Chapter 19 Viking
CHAPTER 19
VIKING
Viking woke up with a splitting headache. To an empty bed. The events of the day before came back to him, hitting him like a train wreck. His ring finger lacked a marriage band, but he was a married man now nonetheless. To a woman he hated. Last night he’d gone to bed after drinking a bottle of Jack. Maybe even two, he wasn’t sure. It was either that or fuck his new wife into oblivion.
He rolled out of bed and went straight into the shower. He needed to think. A little over a week ago Elena had been his prisoner, and now she was his damn wife. His plans for her hadn’t exactly panned out the way he’d intended. He should probably set some ground rules. He turned off the shower and got out, toweling off as he walked back into his room to get dressed. Still no sign of his new bride.
He heard a bark and couldn’t prevent a smile. Of course. She would have met Loki by now. His vicious dog was probably yapping at her ankles, showing her who was boss. Loki didn’t take kindly to strangers.
Putting on jeans and a shirt, he looked for his watch. After putting that on, he sauntered into the kitchen where he was met by the smell of coffee and waffles. He loved waffles. His usual morning routine was to pick some up before he went to work. Baran drove him. Where was he, anyway? Must have stayed in the apartment below, giving him time for his ‘wedding night.’ The kid was weird like that. Modern as the day was long, but old-fashioned when it came to things he considered tradition.
Elena was crouched near the kitchen island, petting Loki. His dog was wagging his tail and showing his belly.
“Traitor,” he muttered.
Hazel eyes looked up. “What was that?”
“I said, where’s my coffee?”
He dropped onto the chair across from her, forcing his gaze away from her. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to push away the fantasy of pressing her against the sink and entering her from behind. He’d already spotted a wooden spoon, perfect to swat her ass with as he pumped into her. Except, she didn’t deserve to get off. He could fight this.
Keep telling yourself that.
After giving Loki one last rub, Elena got up and put two mugs before him. Only one of them was coffee.
“It’s your hangover drink,” she explained, and sat across from him.
It was the wrong thing to say. It only reminded him she’d made him this drink before. In another life. A time he tried to forget.
He grabbed the drink anyway and downed it in one go. The green goo tasted disgusting, but he knew it would have the right effect.
“How many times did you make it for Morelli?” The words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them. He didn’t like the way they sounded. As if he were jealous.
Her brows shot up, and for a second, she looked caught off guard by his question. Then that veil fell over her eyelids again, and he wondered what other secrets she was keeping from him.
“Never,” she declared, dividing the waffles onto two plates. “He didn’t get drunk.”
Viking found that hard to believe. Then again, Lorenzo Morelli had been known for his closely-guarded private life.
He mused over this some more as he accepted a plate from her. It was surreal, the way they sat at the kitchen island having breakfast. Loki sat at their feet, somewhere in the middle between them, as if he belonged there. Which he didn’t, of course. His dog should remember where his loyalties lay. The damn mutt hadn’t even greeted him; he’d been so caught up in his meal.
“So, now what?” Elena asked. She didn’t look him in the eyes as she pricked her fork into a waffle.
Good question. Now what? Nothing had changed, really. And at the same time, everything had. He didn’t know how to deal with it, nor did he want to. This picture-perfect life an outsider would get from peeking in through their window wasn’t real. He wolfed down his breakfast and got up.
“What do you think? Now we start our fucking honeymoon.”
Her eyes narrowed at the sarcasm in his voice. He didn’t give a shit.
She leaned down, her hand hovering over Loki. The beast licked her fingers, then rolled onto his back. The old bastard had already fallen for her. Disgusting.
“He’s beautiful,” she said softly.
That, he was.
“He reminds me of Pucci.”
The words, innocent in their nature, were like a blow to his chest. The last thing he wanted was a reminder of the old Elena. Seeing her this way, in his kitchen, looking carefree, it was as if the last sixteen years had never happened. He couldn’t fall into that trap. He couldn’t let himself forgive her for the unforgivable, only to be stabbed in the back again. Those days were over. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to answer the unvoiced question in her eyes regarding his dog.
“Don’t leave this place without Baran. He’ll be looking out for you.”
“You mean, keeping an eye on me?”
“Does he need to?” Did she really think he was ever going to let her go? Surely she knew how their world worked. If a Vory wife left you, you had to give chase. He’d find her and punish her.
Her chin jutted. “Maybe.”
She was outright challenging him. First by showing she had his dog wrapped around her little finger, and now by questioning his authority over her.
“Try me,” he growled. “Just try me and see what happens.”
He’d drag her back kicking and screaming.
***
His morning didn’t start out great, and his afternoon didn’t look like it was gonna be much better. The only ray of light was his daily check-in with his daughter. So far he had only missed one day and Artist had informed him Vicky had expectantly watched her phone all day. He liked to think it was because of him. It wasn’t ideal, speaking to each other only over the phone, but it was all he could offer her right now. He wasn’t going to take any chances with her life, not while Pedro Morelli still was on the loose. Sadly, the bastard had gone off the grid. It was like the Earth had opened and swallowed him up, offering him refuge. Viking would love to personally accommodate Pedro’s permanent stay in the depths of the Earth, but the opportunity hadn’t yet presented itself. Even Damon’s extensive circle of spies hadn’t spotted him yet.
Damon handed him a glass of raki and took a seat across from him. “You look like crap. Married life treating you badly?”
Viking swallowed two painkillers and washed them down with the white liquid. “You taking a page from Baran’s book now?” According to the Turk, raki was the cure to a hangover. Never mind it tasted like toxic liquorish with a hint of pain.
Damon grinned. “Looks like you kissed a raging bull and he didn’t love you back.”
Yeah, Vasili had gotten in a few good punches. “You should see the other guy.”
“I have. He looks like an even bigger pile of shit.”
“He is a pile of shit.”
“Speaking of…shit might hit the fan.” His chin jerked toward the office in the back of the club. “Damian Caputo showed up an hour ago. I was supposed to call you if it took you any longer, but you’re here now.”
“What do you think he’s here for? The feuds?” If anyone knew it would be Damon.
“Maybe. Though he wouldn’t need our manpower. He’s got enough of his own, being the boss of all bosses.”
“That title doesn’t exist anymore.” The Italian families hadn’t had a true leader for ages.
“Courtesy of Lucky Luciano,” Damon agreed. “He abolished the old ways.”
Everyone knew the story, and Damon was an expert on it, fascinated as he was with old American gangsters. Lucky had taken out his rival and declared there would be no more capi di tutti capi, boss of all bosses. Instead, he’d instigated the Commission. Then he put the ‘organize’ in organized crime by running the crime syndicate similar to how corporations were run. That system was still in place to date.
Viking set down his glass and walked into the back room. Caputo gestured him to his side.
“I hear congrats are in order.” He presented a box of cigars. Then he took one out and gave one to him and Kristoff.
Viking dropped into a chair next to him, lit his cigar, and took a good puff. “Thanks.”
He’d quit smoking tomorrow. You didn’t insult a boss by refusing his gift. Still, this couldn’t be the reason Caputo was visiting them. He’d barely known ahead of time that he was getting hitched, and Caputo must have planned his visit before his surprise marriage.
He gave Kristoff a what-gives look.
“Damian has some issues back in Vegas. I gave him some pointers on how to deal with them.”
Caputo wasn’t the kind of man to ask for advice how to handle his business. Not unless he was looking for another way besides total bloodshed. Kristoff was known for his more…creative ways of handling things. He was even more creative when it came to doing away with bodies, but that was a whole different story.
Rings of gray smoke left Caputo’s mouth. “If only I could do it the Bratva way.”
“Who’s going to stop you?” Kristoff cocked a brow.
“My pockets,” Caputo countered. “I like them to be deep. Dead bosses and capos mean less business.”
“Do what I did,” Kristoff said. “Marry people off, eliminate the threat.”
Viking mentally flipped him off. He wouldn’t actually do it with Caputo present, though. They always showed a united front to outsiders. And no matter the friendly connection between the two bosses, Caputo was and always would be, an outsider.
Caputo looked pensive. “Marry five families off?” There was a laugh in his voice until he saw Kristoff’s face. It looked damn serious.
Viking sat upright. He always knew when something good—depending on which side you were standing—would come out of Kristoff’s creative vault. This looked like one of those moments.
“We have a saying in Russia. It’s not about who’s against you, but who’s with you. You’ve got five feuding families. People who hate each other’s guts. They have killed capos without the Commission’s permission.”
Caputo’s eyes narrowed. Technically, no one outside the Families was supposed to know about the Commission’s existence. He didn’t comment on Kristoff’s observation, though, but gestured for him to continue.
“Your problem sounds a lot like how, in medieval times, kings conquering new lands dealt with the nobility. Instead of letting them kill each other in one on one fights, the king would marry them off to each other. This way, whether they wanted to or not, they became family. As a generation passed, the families became more and more intertwined. New, better, stronger alliances were forged.”
Caputo took one last puff of his cigar. “Just like that?”
“Pretty much. You just have to secure the women first. Then you have to beat the men into submission. It’s all about logistics.”
Viking sent his friend two more mental fuck-yous. The bastard had basically used this tactic on him. Damn Kristoff’s sneaky ways.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” Then Caputo’s face turned serious, darker. “Now, the reason I’m here. I’ve heard you’ve been looking for the Bridemaker.”
Viking tensed. That asshole, whoever he was, had had a hand in kidnapping Sy’s wife. Not only that, but he’d brought young girls into Kristoff’s town to be sold as child brides, and they’d been looking for him ever since. When they found him, they were going to make an example out of him. He’d broken Kristoff’s most sacred rule: don’t fuck with kids.
Kristoff casually leaned back, but Viking knew better. Taking out the Bridemaker was high on his priority list.
“What of him?” Kristoff asked.
“I want you to back off,” Caputo said. “That leech is mine.”
“Why?”
“It’s personal.”
“Didn’t know you had a personal life.”
Caputo’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Fuck you, Romanov.”
Ah, shit. Calling Kristoff by that name was a trigger. This could go south, fast.
Viking got up and casually placed himself between the two men. They looked ready to lock horns any second. Then something odd happened; both men fell back into their chairs.
“No need for that, big guy,” Caputo said, gesturing for Viking to sit down. “We’re not gonna kill each other.”
“At least not today,” Kristoff agreed. “Tell me why this is personal for you.”
Caputo hunched forward. “It’s not about him. It’s about a girl who works for him.”
“Seven,” Viking guessed. That crazy assassin was on their list as well. She might have saved his sister-in-law in the end, but was the one who had kidnapped her in the first place. So they felt less than warm-and-fuzzy about her.
“Seven,” Caputo confirmed.
“Not exactly a girl, but more a psychotic assassin,” Kristoff mused. “We’ve done some digging on her to see if she could lead us to him. So far no luck, but we did find out she’s been with the Bridemaker since she was a little girl. According to rumor, she’s his most loyal acolyte and fiercest soldier. What’s your business with her?”
Caputo’s lips thinned. “We have history.”
As the men got talking about history, Viking thought about his own. Here he was thinking Caputo was crazy for even wasting breath on a crazy woman when he’d just married his own past. What to do? What to fucking do?