8. Maksim
Maksim
I pull up to the house in Coral Gables and see Damien's car in the driveway.
I kill the engine and head inside. This house is my finest property.
Six bedrooms, a private pool, and a security system that rivals a bank vault.
Six women live here. Most have been with me for years. Everyone knows the rules.
Damien is standing in the living room with Briar. She’s twenty-one, brunette, and one of the smartest women I’ve met. She could have done anything with her life, but she chose this. I don’t judge; I just make sure she’s safe while she does it.
“Maksim.” Briar is nervous. I can tell by the way she twists her fingers.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Damien crosses his arms. “Tell him what you told me.”
Briar takes a breath. "I was at the club last night with one of my clients.
I didn't realize he was Albanian until he started talking.
He must have gotten in under the radar somehow.
Had to be a low-level guy. Got drunk and started talking.
He was going on about how Bekir fucked up some delivery.
He said Arlind is furious. That he won't let it go. "
Not Bekir. Arlind Derveshi. The man at the top of the Albanian food chain in this city.
“Go on,” I say.
"He said the girl was promised to Arlind years ago. That Bekir had her at your club, and you took her. He said you humiliated the Albanians in front of everyone."
I knew pulling Lila out would cause problems, but I didn’t think it would escalate this quickly.
Briar shakes her head. “He made it clear Arlind won't stop until he gets what he wants."
“Lila,” Damien says flatly.
“And revenge,” Briar adds. “My guy said Arlind doesn’t forgive disrespect. Ever.”
I run a hand through my hair. This is exactly what I didn’t need. Arlind Derveshi is not a street-level thug I can pay off or intimidate.
“Do you know how they found her?” I ask.
She nods. “My client told me he found her. He’s a computer guru. Set up a program to crawl the internet looking for images of her.”
“She was taken away when she was a child,” I say.
“He wrote a program that aged her. Some AI thing.”
“Fuck,” I hiss.
“She posted some pictures on Instagram or something.” Briar shrugs.
I wonder if she knows. Fucking social media. How stupid. I want to yell at her. She should have been smarter. Then again, she was probably just trying to live her life. She had no idea her father had sold her.
“Thank you, Briar,” I say. “You did good telling us.”
She nods and disappears down the hallway.
I turn to Damien. He’s shaking his head.
“Don’t,” I say.
“I’m going to,” he replies. “You’re the brother of a pakhan. You know how this works. You don’t take another man’s property. You don’t humiliate him in public. And you sure as hell don’t bring that property into your house and protect it like it’s yours.”
“She’s not property.”
“She is to him. She is to everyone in this world. You broke the rules, Maksim. For what? One girl?” He steps closer. “There are thousands of girls out there. We save who we can. That’s always been the rule. We don’t risk everything for one.”
“She’s different.”
“How?” His voice rises. “How is she different? Because she’s pretty? Because she looked at you with those big blue eyes and said ‘please’?”
I don’t have an answer that makes sense. Not one that I can put into words that won’t sound ridiculous.
Just the image of her on that floor. I've watched women in worse situations go completely still.
Shut down. Survive by disappearing inside themselves.
She didn't do that. She was half out of her mind on whatever they gave her, beaten and barely coherent, and she was still fighting.
Not performing. Not calculating. Just refusing.
Like she couldn't conceive of any other option.
“I couldn’t leave her there,” I say finally.
“Yes, you could have. You’ve done it before. We all have.” He’s not wrong. I’ve walked away from situations I knew were bad. I’ve had to. “So, what is it about her? Why is she worth starting a war over?”
I look at him. My best friend. My most trusted lieutenant. The man who has been at my side for years.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I’m not giving her back.”
Damien stares at me for a long moment. Then, he laughs. It’s not a happy sound.
“You’ll get us all killed,” he says.
“Then we’ll die protecting her.”
“Maksim, you’re one of the smartest men I know. This is stupid.”
“I will not debate this.” I head toward the door. “Let’s go. I need to get to the club.”
“You think your brother will risk bratva resources for some girl you pulled out of a club?”
“I’m not asking him to.”
We walk out together. He gets in his car, and I walk to mine. I get in, start the engine, and take a second to think about what he said.
What the hell am I doing?
Damien’s right. I’ve broken every rule I’ve ever lived by. I’ve put myself, my people, and potentially my brothers at risk for a girl I barely know. Someone who would probably run the first chance she got if she thought she could survive out there.
She’s been through hell. She’s lost everything. And the world wants to take more from her.
I can’t let that happen.
Damien pulls in behind me. It’s one of my smaller ones; more of a gentleman’s club. Dark furnishings. Low light. Quiet. Private.
My club manager, a woman who calls herself Sapphire, greets me. I do these check-ins at least once a week. It’s all about verifying the books, asking if there are any problems, and checking in with the women.
Damien walks beside me. I’m not mad at him, and he’s not mad at me. We have these little arguments, and then things go right back to what they always are.
We stay for an hour. Damien and I are talking as we head for my car parked in the back of the building. I’m reaching for the car door handle when I hear the screech of tires on pavement. My instincts kick in before my brain catches up. I drop low, yanking Damien down with me.
The first shot shatters my driver-side window. Glass explodes over us. More shots follow.
“Get down!” I shout, though Damien’s flat against the ground next to me.
My car absorbs round after round. The metallic ping of bullets hitting steel fills the air. I count at least two shooters, maybe three, based on the angles. They’re using the building across the alley for cover.
One of my security guys comes running from the club entrance. He doesn’t make it three steps before a bullet catches him in the shoulder. He goes down hard, cursing.
I move toward him, but Damien grabs my jacket.
“Stay down, you idiot!”
The shooting stops as suddenly as it started. I hear an engine revving and tires squealing. They’re gone.
I’m up and running to the downed security guard. Blood spreads across his shoulder, but he’s conscious and swearing, which is a good sign.
“I’m okay,” he grunts. “Fuck. I’m okay.”
“Get him inside,” I order the other guards who’ve emerged. “Call our doctor.”
Damien’s on his feet with his phone out. “On it.”
My car is destroyed. If I’d been inside when they opened fire, I’d be dead. If I’d been standing one foot to the left, I’d be dead.
I don’t normally get shot at. I’m the brother nobody cares about, the one who runs clubs and keeps his head down. I usually make problems disappear with money or favors, not bullets.
Damien walks over, his face grim. “I told you.”
“Don’t.”
“I told you this would escalate.” He gestures at my Porsche. “This is just the beginning.”
Fuck. I know he’s right.
“You need to call Sergei,” Damien says. “This is too big for you to handle alone. You need the bratva.”
“No.”
“Maksim…”
“I said no. I can handle this.”
“They just tried to kill you in broad daylight. Next time, they might succeed.”
“I’ll increase security,” I say. “Triple it. Lock down all the properties. But I’m not bringing my brothers into this.”
“Why not? Pride?”
“Because this is my mess.” I meet his eyes. “I pulled her out. I brought her home. I’m not going to ask Sergei to clean it up for me.”
Damien shakes his head. “Your pride is going to get someone killed.”
“It’s not the first time we’ve been shot at.”
Damien sighs. “You’re in deep, aren’t you?”
I don’t need to say anything. We both know the answer.