The Bratva’s Virgin Bride (Milov Bratva Brides #8)

Chapter 1 - Viktor

I need to get out of my head. I don't know how I let Anton convince me that going clubbing was the answer, but here I am, driving through the streets of Las Vegas in my Audi, music blaring. The streets are wet and I'm a bit reckless as I weave through the various cars in my way. The lights along the boulevard are bright and it gives me a slight headache. I prefer dim and muted. Las Vegas is such a tourist attraction, and it's busy. But this is where Kervyn set up shop, so this is where we have to work.

I'm not far from the club now and soon, I pull into the parking next to Anton's MG and get out. The club is two stories, with people queuing up outside to get in. I walk straight to the front of the line and the bouncer opens for me, much to the protest of people waiting.

The hazy view from where I'm standing does little to fix my mood, which is bad at the best of times. So much has happened. So much is happening, and I feel like I'm out of sorts. Something isn't sitting right with me. It doesn't matter that I'm a cousin to the biggest Bratva leader in Las Vegas. It doesn't matter that my brother has opened up this and other clubs in our names to see our family succeed. Nothing matters, not really. It hasn't for a while now.

We're sitting in the VIP section of our newest club. I walk over there and pass the bouncer. It has a wooden bar spanning one side of the room, mahogany wood varnished to a glossy finish, which glistens under the lights behind and in front of the bar. There's a dance floor in the middle with poles for the ladies to get creative on. Two are taken. The girls are twirling around them like idiots who have no clue how to dance. How did they even get into the VIP section? I don't know.

I walk over to Anton, who is standing by the bar.

“Viktor. I was wondering if you were going to make it,” he says with a Cheshire grin.

He turns to the bartender and orders a refill for himself and a whiskey for me. I lean against the bar next to him. “To be honest, I didn't really feel like coming out,” I admit.

“Tough day?” Anton asks as he looks at me. My twin. Different in only a few ways, such as our eye color. I'm reckless whereas he thinks things through. I'm harsh, whereas he is calm. Doesn't make either of us any less deadly. We are Bratva, after all—we're in the business of being deadly.

I shake my head. “No tougher than usual. I just didn't feel like coming out.”

“Why? Has Rigor done something to piss you off?” he asks, handing me my whiskey. I sip it slowly.

“No, he hasn't done anything. I'm just… distracted.”

“Who or what has you distracted?” he asks.

I wish I knew and I tell him as much. Anton sips his whiskey slowly and looks around. “It's a beautiful night to be out. Let's see if we can find something else to distract you with. Maybe some pretty girls from the dance floor.”

I don't really care. I shrug and move to one of the chairs, slouching down in it and setting my whiskey in front of me on the table. Anton joins me and we both simply watch the happenings of the club for a moment before a group of three women enter the VIP section. Women? No, they're more like girls. Too young to be drinking in our club, but who are we to judge?

“Now we're talking,” Anton says. He motions for the bartender to come to him. “Tell the girls to join us and bring a bottle of your finest red wine for them.”

“Yes, Sir,” the bartender says, hurrying off.

I watch as he speaks to the girls. They look over and start giggling. Definitely too young to be drinking in our bar, but who am I to stop Anton from having fun? The girls come over to the table and the tall blonde one smiles at Anton. “Hi, thanks for the wine.”

“You are most welcome,” Anton says. “I hope you three will join my brother and I.”

“I'm Mickey, this is Jody and Sarah.” She motions to her two friends, who look like they can be sisters.

“Sit, sit,” Anton says, not introducing us. We never introduce ourselves, it keeps the mystery going. “What are a lovely trio of girls like you doing in a dump we own?”

“You own this club?” Jody says, mesmerized. She sits beside Anton while Sarah sits beside me. Mickey sits between them and we form a circle around the table. The bartender brings the wine and three glasses.

“We do,” Anton says with an enormous smile. “Our family does, at least. We're all co-owners.”

“That's amazing,” Jody says, sipping her wine. I don't miss the slight face she pulls. She's not used to drinking. They must be about nineteen or twenty years old at most.

Mickey sips her wine a bit better than Jody does. She must be the party animal of the group. “Well, we're just so lucky to have met you.”

I scoff quietly, and Sarah looks at me curiously. I look at her. “You're not lucky to meet people like us.”

“What my brother is trying to say,” Anton says loudly, “is that we're the lucky ones to have bumped into you tonight.”

Sarah smiles up at me and bats her eyelids. I don't pay her any mind, focusing instead on my whiskey. I take a deep sip. Anton continues to flirt with the girls, asking them about their lives. They're in college, apparently, and Sarah is studying to be a doctor. Mickey is studying to be a lawyer and Jody is studying to be an accountant. All high-class pursuits, but they are just little girls spending their daddy's money without a care in the world. They don't belong in my world. I get up suddenly and Anton looks at me, surprised.

“I need the men's room,” I say, downing my whiskey and leaving without looking back. I hear the girls laughing even over the music, and I know they're trying too hard. Anton had best not get himself into trouble.

I go upstairs to the office, where there's a private bathroom I can use. Afterward, I walk out to the balcony and look down at the club. Nothing is interesting to me right now, and it's a listlessness that unsettles me. Normally, I'm all bravado and confidence, but lately, I feel deflated. I'm more reckless and ruthless than Anton is, that's for sure, but I feel no inclination to do anything. Am I depressed?

What a load of shit. Of course I'm not depressed. I'm just distracted. By what? I don't know. It's a mystery to me. I need to focus. I need to get my head in the game. I have a lot going on in the family, and I need to ensure that everything runs smoothly.

I turn my attention to the rest of the club, where bodies are writhing against each other on the dance floor, or people are shouting over the music to be heard at tables dispersed amongst the club. I see a woman near the VIP section, and I pause. She has dark brown hair and full lips. She has a great figure with curves in all the right places. She's laughing at something her date or her boyfriend has said and her smile is almost the same as Riley's.

Riley.

Gwen's friend needed rescuing not so long ago, and I will remember that day forever. I wasn't sure we were going to get to her in time. We had planned everything meticulously. We put trackers on the Vultures' vehicles and watched and waited. Gwen hadn't been happy waiting. She knew every second counted. Once we pinpointed it down to two locations, we mounted two teams to hit at the exact same time. We kept in contact the entire time and the Vultures didn't know what hit them when we entered. I remember shooting so many people that day. Who knew one location could hold so many bodies? It was going to be one hell of a cleanup.

We cleared the rooms one at a time while taking out the gang members before we came to the basement. There was no one at the door and we walked in to find the young girl strapped to a chair. Her face was dirty with streaks from where she had cried. Her mouth was sealed shut with duct tape that I had to peel gently off her. Her hands were tied behind her using cable ties and they were cutting into her wrists. I had cut them swiftly, and she had slumped forward, rolling her shoulders.

“Who are you?” she had asked, wide-eyed.

“The cavalry,” I had responded. “Gwen sent us,” I add.

She had looked so relieved. I helped her up, and she almost immediately collapsed in my arms. I picked her up bridal style and carried her out of that godforsaken place and into the car. We had arranged for a doctor to be waiting at Roman's place to look her over, and Gwen had been so relieved when we delivered her. Roman was happy with himself, of course. He'd been a hero to Gwen that day.

Now it felt almost like a distant memory, even though it was just a few weeks ago. The second time she had been taken, we had rescued her as well. It's like she had a penchant for trouble, that one. It's enough to keep any person on edge. I don't know what I'll do if she's taken again; I suppose I'd have to rescue her. No thanks to the person actually doing the work. At least not from my brothers. What did I expect? For them to become all emotional when we came over from Russia? We were here to do business and to prove ourselves to our family, which is what I should be focusing on. Yet, seeing the woman down below, I can only think of Riley.

I still don't understand what my brother Roman sees in Gwen. He married her so quickly, made her a part of our life without thinking, and yet calls me impulsive. Then again, Rigor isn't much better. He kidnapped the wrong girl and married her. That still makes me chuckle—the two of them tied down by these completely innocent souls. Although Fiona has a bite to her, I'll give her that. She did save Rigor's life. Gwen isn't exactly helpless either.

But Riley, she's fragile. She is breakable, and thinking about her now lights a fire inside of me. I want to protect her from this life, this style of living. I want to keep her safe from it all. I don't know how I'm meant to do that, though. She's staying with Gwen and Roman at the moment, I know that much. Maybe I should drop by and check on her.

I make my way back to the VIP section and order another whiskey, going to sit near Anton, who is now surrounded by the girls swooning over him. They excuse themselves to the bathroom, and Anton looks over at me. “Someone's moody,” he teases. “Can't get it up tonight, Brother?”

“Fuck off,” I say angrily. “There's nothing wrong with me.”

“There is, even if you won't admit it,” Anton says with a grin. “You're going soft in your old age.”

“We're a minute apart,” I point out.

“Not in our minds, apparently, or in our hearts. What's wrong? Who are you pining for?”

I could tell him about my worries about Riley, but he'll just tease me about her, and I'm in no mood. “Enjoy your tarts tonight, Anton. I'm out of here.”

“Viktor…” he says as I down my whiskey and get up. “I thought we were just having some fun.”

“I'm not in the mood,” I say, walking out of the VIP section. I go past the girl who reminds me of Riley and I can't help but drink her in. Riley is perfect. She's sexier and more appealing. The girl is similar, and if she didn't have a date, I would bed her easily to satisfy this itch I have about Riley.

That makes up my mind. I'm going to check on Riley tomorrow while she’s still awake with Gwen and Roman. I walk out of the club, nodding to the bouncer standing there before I walk to my car. Some punks are leaning against it and I growl at them to get off of it before I climb in. I pull away from the club and join the traffic. Las Vegas is so alive at night, the lights and the people, but I just have one singular goal in mind right now and I want to make sure she's okay. That's all.

Maybe then I can get some rest.