Chapter 33 – Luka
I lya let out a short breath. It wasn’t loud enough for the representatives of the Toro Syndicate to hear. A newer organization, this group wasn’t bound by familial ties. It was a rabble of individuals that drew up a charter, took on a name, and were growing a fearsome reputation. Before this summer, they were nonexistent. Now, they threatened to be the biggest criminal organization in Chicago.
Correction, they had a faction here. Their base of operations wasn’t in the Windy City. But not even Kazimir’s computer geeks could figure out where their hive was.
Here they were, five upstarts. A meager representation, but the feeling in my gut told me not to underestimate them. While my gut cautioned my moves, and my brain reminded me that Dimitri wouldn’t look favorably on any hotheaded displays, my heart was elsewhere.
“They think their shit doesn’t stink,” Ilya muttered in Russian.
I snorted.
“And so, if you provide us with the weaponry, we’ll leave your territory alone,” Vortex concluded.
Not only was he proposing a shit deal, one where we made pennies on the transaction as middlemen for the weaponry, but he also had the stupidest nickname.
I cocked my head to the side and studied him. “Is the Toro Syndicate a biker gang?”
Vortex looked back at his four companions.
“Because y’all have the weirdest nicknames,” I smirked. “The only other weirdos with names like Gunner, Viper, Fury, Ford, and Vortex, are bikers.”
“They didn’t come on hogs,” Ilya added helpfully. “They have a pretty sweet Land Rover, though.”
“I like Land Rovers—dependable. Good vehicles,” I mused.
Vortex pulled himself up straight. “Excuse me, gentlemen, we’re here to discuss business.”
“Business?” I pulled at the back of my neck, fingers working into the tightening muscles. “You mean theft?”
The men bristled. Angry exclamations and flashes of teeth played out in front of me.
Ilya stifled a yawn.
I agreed. I was bored too.
But for the sake of business, and because my big cousin the pakhan made me a captain, I tried to right this sinking ship of a business meeting. “Let me explain to you how a real mob works.”
“We are a real mob,” the one named Ford spat.
The others I mixed up, but Ford’s face was square. That unfortunate chin—which would benefit from a beard—was cut like the bumper on an F-150.
“You haven’t been around long enough to know how things work,” I drawled.
The pickup truck man would have exploded if Vortex didn’t hold up his hand.
“We spoke our terms. Countering is only to be expected.” He pinned me with a hard look, pupils narrowing into slits. “But you can drop the insults, sir,” he added.
I inclined my head. “It’s not meant to be insulting, Tex. Until a few months ago, no one heard of Toro. Now your name is whispered on the streets with both trepidation and anticipation.”
The fucker’s eyes twinkled.
Damn, throw a small compliment and win. Huh….
“See, we don’t make the weapons or ammunition ourselves,” I continued. “It would be too hard with the almighty justice system in this country sticking their nose into our business. We have to get them made in another country. Luckily, we have a very good connection—”
Ilya growled in warning.
I shot him a dry look. I wasn’t going to tell him that my father’s cousin Maksim was our gun maker in the Old World. Neither was I going to say that we received a very good price on guns and ammunition, which allowed us to take a bigger profit. Those were family secrets, and they died with me.
“Anyhow,” I breathed. “We have to cover the cost of transportation, which is substantial.”
That was true. John Henry Van Greene’s shipping company charged an arm and a leg for the service. But the fucker was damn good. He knew his worth and charged accordingly.
“So when we sell to another party, we have to cover expenses. The price you’re asking doesn’t give us enough to make it worth our trouble,” I concluded. “After all, we have to eat too. And if we aren’t paid for our services, we can’t buy food. Especially with inflation.”
That last bit had two of the newbies nodding in agreement.
“That makes sense,” the guy I wanted to say was Gunner said.
“Made Men are businessmen at heart,” I smiled. “Let’s talk about a different number, have a beer to conclude business, and be on our merry way.”
The corners of Vortex’s lips curled up. Slowly. It wasn’t a pleasant smile.
Ilya loosened his stance, catching the subtle warning in the air.
“Our price is firm. We know what you’re doing with the entertainment venues. It would be a shame if those ventures fell through.”
Blackmail. This fucker was blackmailing us.
I would have been impressed…if I wasn’t fucking annoyed. Who the hell did he think he was?
My phone chose that moment to beep. Pulling it from my back pocket with slow and deliberate movements, I saw the caller I.D.
“My boss is calling. I’ll update him on the situation and see how he wants me to proceed, since I can’t authorize these numbers,” I lied, putting the phone to my ear.
Vortex nodded. “Tell your cousin his wife looked beautiful in that peach blouse this morning.”
The blood in my veins iced. But only for a moment. Anger quickly made it boil. How dare this impudent little shit-stain threaten Laurel.
“Will do,” I clipped out.
“Yes?” I said in Russian.
“Hey! Luka! There was an Amazon delivery for you. We scanned it per protocol, and it isn’t a bomb, but it’s some weird technology. None of us has seen it before,” Genrikh said eagerly.
I wanted to smack the guard upside the head. My voice stayed low. “It plays music.”
There was a pause. “Like a speaker?”
What a Gen Z. He didn’t recognize an 8-track player?
“Remind me to give you a lesson on anything that predates the MP3 player,” I grumbled.
“I know what an MP3 is. It didn’t get apps, like Spotify.”
I gazed at the ceiling. That was about all the stupid I could handle. While he was younger, it didn’t mean he had to be ignorant. Just because he didn’t have a Zune or an iPod as a teen and suffer like the rest of us, or CDs and cassettes as a kid….
But I wasn’t annoyed with him. It was the sly shit stain gleefully watching my every move.
“I’ll pick it up in a half hour. You break the player, and I’ll break your fingers. Got it?” I growled, hanging up to the stammering guard.
“Well? What did the great Dimitri think?” Vortex yapped happily.
“He didn’t speak to his cousin. It was something about a…music player?” one of the lackeys ratted me out.
I pinned him with a look. “You speak Russian, comrade?”
He nodded.
I switched to English. “Well, Viper, let me explain how rude it is to eavesdrop.” As I moved back to the circle of light, my fingers reached under my shirt.
“I’m Gunner,” the man protested.
Stopping beside Ilya and discreetly nudging him twice with my boot, I looked the wannabe mobster up and down. “Really? I thought he was Gunner?”
“He’s Fury,” the man shouted, raising his hands. Dark blotches of purple and red appeared on his face.
“None of that matters. What I care about is that you didn’t speak with Dimitri,” Vortex interjected.
“No, I have a delivery to make to an important person, and you’re wasting my time.” With that, I threw two knives.
Three shots rang out from Ilya’s gun.
The fucker Ford turned at the last second, his shoulder taking my blade. Which meant he was fast enough to reach for his own gun. I caught the motion and leapt on Ilya.
The man was built like a saint's damned tank and did not topple like he was supposed to. The bullet missed me, which meant it missed him too, and that was all that mattered.
Ilya’s shots hadn’t missed.
“Get off me,” the brute snarled.
“You’re welcome!” I sang out, flopping to the ground.
“What a fucking mess,” Ilya grumbled, rubbing his palm down his face.
I propped myself on my elbow. “We’ll torch the place, and no one will find the bodies.”
Ilya pinned me with a look. “They won’t take this lightly.”
“They’re insignificant.” But as I said it, the sages of old protested in my mind. “However, I’ll advise Dimi that we wipe them out, pull them up by the root, and salt the earth so they don’t come back.”
“I like that plan,” Ilya said after a pause. “Go make your delivery, I’ll clean this up.”
I resisted the urge to pat him on the back. But it didn’t stop a snarky comment. “Gee, that’s swell of you,” I quipped, already in a better mood. Pulling my blades from the bodies, I cleaned the blood off on their clothes.
“You’re so weird,” Ilya mumbled.
“At least I don’t have a stupid nickname,” I countered.
He snorted. “And you know what an 8-track is.”
“Right?! This generation. I’m going to have a history lesson with young Genrikh.”
“Maybe we’re just old.” Ilya tossed the bodies on top of one another with a strength that defied age.
“Nah, we’re just awesome.” With that, I left.
I could have sworn Ilya laughed. Granted, it was a rough sound that could have come from straining to lift the large body of Ford. Ilya hadn’t laughed in months, so it was hard to be sure.
***
Club M? was in full swing. After finishing work, Vivian was perched on a stool at a high top in the V.I.P. section, enjoying a beverage with Daniella, who’d made a rare appearance. Because we didn’t have a home office setup, Vivian had taken to going with Laurel and working in the offices upstairs in the club. While I wanted to punch the smug attorney who’d given her the job, I had to admit it wouldn’t be right to turn his pretty boy face into a pulp. No, this job as his assistant made Vivian happy. She wasn’t just some photocopier either. The one night she explained the work at dinner, she said it was like being a lawyer but not having the license.
Standing in the shadows, I watched her as the gift pulsed like a living creature between my fingers. Saints, she was beautiful. Those wild curls were darker in this light. They created a shadowy halo around her face. Lips blood red, she was a siren, ready to beckon an unsuspecting soul to damnation.
I never wanted to sign on the dotted line so quickly.
As if she could feel me, Vivian’s gaze shifted to the dance floor. I knew she felt me, because she didn’t look at the rest of the club, only my dark corner. There was no way she’d spot me. My tactical clothing made sure I blended in with the bodies around me. I tightened my grip on the brown box in my left hand.
Something tugged at my heart when Daniella’s words pulled her away from the search. So close… I’m right here, darlin.
But Vivian threw her head back. The milk chocolate contents of her drink sloshed precariously on the side as she chinked glasses with Kazimir’s wife.
I watched them for a moment longer, praying that she would look down from her tower and spot the lowly serf once more. Instead, the princesses sipped their drinks, chatted animatedly, and occasionally broke out in fits of laughter.
To keep the rolling thoughts at bay, I focused on the security details surrounding my precious treasure. Like any good dragon, I liked my hoard safe. Letting such a beautiful gem sit in the open, ripe to be plucked by any fool, sent a wave of unease through my shoulders.
The words of the dead man played through my mind. He knew what color Laurel’s blouse had been. It was a negotiation tactic, nothing to worry too much about. But still, the girls needed to be kept safe if they were going to sit in the open, outside the safety of the back rooms.
Yes, they were adequately guarded. There were two access points to their private section, and there were strict rules about them not descending to the dance floor unless we were present. I wasn’t the only caveman—it was Kazimir’s idea. The argument that ensued the night he proposed it last spring was epic. His pretty little wife was one with the music, and she could move. To keep her caged in the V.I.P. section, away from the dancing, was torture. Now that Vivian was in the picture, I felt differently.
Still, even though there were guards stationed at both entrances, I did a careful assessment of the situation. My evaluation confirmed that there was no way to sneak onto the platform. But an enemy wouldn’t have to creep onto the mezzanine to hurt them. If I snuck in a plastic blade, a dart, or some other projectile, I would have a clear shot from right here.
I would be speaking about new security measures with Ilya.
However, I needed to make sure Kazimir and Dimitri took my side.
In the time it took me to jog to my car, park in the back of the club, and return, Laurel had joined the ladies. Dimitri was also there, but he was sitting on a couch looking at a stack of papers. The work never ended for the wicked.
A guard brought another chocolate drink to my bride and a red drink to Laurel. Daniella poured more of her Pellegrino into her highball glass, gesturing to the dance floor and babbling something that had the other women smiling.
Tucking the box under my armpit, I loaded the marble into the leather pad, took aim, and let the glass stone fly through the air. Vivian’s martini glass shattered, dousing the table in chocolate. Dani’s was knocked to the floor a second later.
Dimitri was on his feet, papers scattering to the floor. He shepherded the girls out of the danger zone, but my hellcat paused, staring in the direction of the missile.
We would be having a conversation about the proper way to react when an attack happened. My palm itched, but I could only teach her a lesson if I baited her into touching me first.
I stepped out from the shadows, and our gazes collided.
Vivian put her hands on her hips, lips pursing tight.
When Dimitri reached for her, the club suddenly descended into red. Part of my subconscious reasoned that he was trying to protect her. But the overwhelming need to hit him for laying a hand on Vivian’s shoulder swallowed every rational thought.
Vivian jerked away from him, stabbing her hand in my direction. I couldn’t hear the angry words on her lips, but I felt them.
A smile curved my lips. Saints, I love it when you’re all fired up.
The guards blinked at me, stammering in confusion.
“There’s no threat,” I snapped in Russian as I passed them.
In seconds, I ascended the stairs, crossed the path that led past other V.I.P. booths, and clipped out orders to the guards stationed by the Vlasov private area.
“It’s too predictable that we occupy the same area, night after night,” I started, pinning Dimitri with a look.
My cousin looked up from where he gathered his papers from the floor. “You messed up the order of these.”
I shrugged.
“They weren’t numbered,” the pakhan growled.
“And whose fault is that?” I flopped onto the couch, arms spread wide. While my cousin yammered, I turned my attention to the woman with fire in her eyes.
“You spilled my drink.” Vivian crossed her arms, not even looking at my left hand.
Fuck those lips pressed tight were all too inviting. My dick swelled at the thought of making her kneel before me, forcing my dick between those crimson pillows.
She would likely bite.
But if we were alone, I might just be crazy enough to try it.
“Let me make it up to you.” I tossed the package I’d been holding to her. “Nice catch, darlin.”
Suddenly swept in the undertow of an overwhelming, and wholly unfamiliar, emotion, I needed something to occupy my hands with. I leaned over to the side table and plucked Dimitri’s chilled vodka. The stuff was like disinfectant, but I managed a small sip.
So gross!
By the time, I put it back, Vivian had gone completely still.
“What is it?” Daniella asked, head tipped to the side.
Laurel tiptoed forward, holding out her hand.
Vivian passed it to her but slid her gaze to me. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
Those two words lit fireworks inside me.
“Now—” Dimitri sank into the opposite side of the sofa and tried to snap my attention with the stern command. “Would you care to tell me why you are here stealing my booze, and not at the warehouse with Ilya?”
“Because I don’t like disposing of bodies,” I drawled, not looking away from Vivian. We spoke in Russian, so she had no idea what we said.
But Laurel did. “Luka Vlasov! Tell me you didn’t massacre the representatives of the Toro Syndicate?”
“Okay, I won’t tell you,” I smirked, finally tearing my gaze from Vivian to meet the accusatory glare of our queen. “I’ll tell you that Ilya and I ended them.”
Dimitri groaned. “Start at the beginning.”
Switching back to English, I jerked my chin to the mess on the floor. “Can I order you another drink, Vivian?”
From the way her lips pursed, I knew she was fighting back a smile. “Do you know what it was called?”
“Not a damn clue. But I think I’ll have one too. After all, we have some celebrating to do,” I drawled, shooting Dimitri a wink.
The pakhan was not amused.
Vivian considered me for a moment. “I don’t need another full chocolate martini. That one was going to be my last. Would you…want to split it with me?”
Heat flooded my veins at the idea of drinking from the same glass as her. Our lips touching the same place. Passing a beverage back and forth. Would our fingers touch? Or would it be a game filled with anticipation? The patter of my pulse increased several notches, and my breaths turned shallow at the idea.
“I would like that,” I said.
A smile played at the side of her mouth. We continued to stare at one another for a moment longer before Dimitri’s growl demanded my full attention.