Chapter 2 #2
Nate runs in and then stops short when he sees us filling his living room.
He’s shirtless, giving us a view of his puny chest and the start of what will one day be an impressive pot belly, if he lives that long.
Shaggy brown hair falls in greasy strands around his face, and I can tell I don’t like him before I even meet his small, dark eyes.
“Who the fuck are you?” he says, slowly reaching a hand behind his back.
“I’d think very hard about that,” I warn him. “If you continue to move your hand, I’m going to take that as a threat, and I don’t respond well to threats.”
His hand freezes, making me think he might not be as stupid as I initially thought.
“My name is Vasily Medvedev, and my Bratva now runs this part of the city.” I give him a pointed look. “That means you work for me. I’m here to discuss the new rules and to let you know when I expect to be paid.”
“Paid?” He scratches his stomach and lets out a soft laugh. “Look, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but the operation in this part of the city is mine, and I don’t give a cut to anyone.”
The one with the mohawk watches us but doesn’t say anything. When my men start to fan out and have a look around, he makes no move to stop them, just steps aside and cuts a quick look to Nate who’s too busy trying to look tough to give him any help.
“That’s how things used to work,” I explain patiently. “But things change, Nate. Surely you know that.”
I look over when six of Nate’s men are led into the room, all of them looking as confused and wary as Nate and Mohawk. Ilya brings up the rear with a girl on either side of him. He gives me a grin and says in Russian, “They were in one of the bedrooms.”
One of the women struggles against his tight grip while the other looks up at him like she’s hoping he’ll never let her go.
“Get rid of them and tell them not to come back,” I tell him. He nods and walks them to the front door before opening it and shoving them out onto the porch.
“Get the fuck out and don’t come back.” His tone is enough to have them nodding their heads and scurrying away, even if the blonde does give him one last longing look before she runs to her car. He shuts the door and mutters, “She would’ve been a nice easy fuck.”
“I’m sure you’ll find another to take her place,” I tell him and then turn back to Nate, stepping closer so we’re only a couple of feet apart. I wish I hadn’t because the sour smell wafting off his body is enough to almost make me dry heave. Switching to English, I ask, “Ready to listen?”
His eyes dart to his men, and I see the wheels start to turn in his greasy head.
“Don’t,” I say, low enough so only he hears.
He ignores my warning and reaches behind his back, but before his fingers can even touch metal, my knife is in his neck.
His eyes widen in shock and then pain. Mohawk mutters a “fuck” while the other men take a step back and watch their boss die.
I slowly pull my knife out and Nate drops to his knees.
Blood pours from the gash in a steady stream, staining his chest and forming a puddle in the cream carpet.
“That is going to be a real bitch to clean,” I say, using my foot to push Nate over.
I recognize the look on his face all too well and know he only has seconds to live.
Turning my attention away from him, I look at his men, not impressed with what I see.
They’re young, low-level, and in way over their heads. I point to Mohawk.
“What’s your name?”
“Jason,” he says in a low voice. His eyes keep drifting over to Nate’s lifeless body.
“Congratulations, Jason. You’ve just been promoted. Do you share Nate’s opinion about our new arrangement?”
“No,” he quickly says, daring to meet my eyes for a second before dropping them again.
I turn to the other men. “What about any of you?”
They shake their heads and mumble “No,” while eyeing the other Bratva members.
“Wise decision.” I point to five of my men. “They will be staying here and helping you learn the new rules. They will be overseeing everything you do.” I scan the men, waiting until every single one of them meets my eyes. “You are all expendable. Don’t forget that, and we’ll get along just fine.”
They nod and seem more than a little relieved when I move towards the door and the rest of my men follow.
The drug dealers in this house don’t know it yet, but with the help of my Bratva, I’ve just bumped them up to a whole new level.
Even with my cut, they’ll easily be making three times what they were making under Nate.
“Where to now, boss?” Andrei asks, falling in step beside me.
“I want to see how the construction is going on the two strip clubs, and there’s one other dealer we need to introduce ourselves to.”
He gives a tight nod and unlocks the door for me.
By the time we’re finished for the night, I’m exhausted but feeling confident that this city is going to make me a ton of money.
The other dealer we met with cared a lot more for his life than Nate had and was eager to accept the terms of our arrangement, and the two clubs are almost finished and the men I put in charge of it are already interviewing for dancers.
Everything is going to plan. Ilya and Andrei head out to a club with some of the other guys while I fix myself a drink and walk with Ruslan to the back deck.
Sitting in one of the patio chairs, I listen to the ocean and close my eyes, feeling the jet lag hit me hard.
Ruslan rests his large head on my thigh, and I pet him while I try to not fall asleep.
Eventually I drag my ass to bed, sleeping through the night until the early morning sun hits my face because I forgot to close the curtains.
After brushing my teeth, I throw on some workout shorts and walk down the hall to the room that’s already set up as a gym.
I hit the weights and finish off with a run on the treadmill.
The ocean view is mesmerizing and I wonder if I’ll ever get used to it.
When I finish my workout, I’m dripping sweat and thirsty.
Grabbing a towel, I dry myself off and head downstairs to grab some water.
I’ve just pulled a bottle out of the fridge when a blonde woman walks in wearing nothing but a tiny T-shirt and a thong.
Her eyes run over me before her full lips spread into a grin.
“How many men live here?” she asks with a soft laugh.
When I ignore her, she steps closer and points a finger at the large bear tattoo that covers my chest. “What’s with all the bear tattoos?”
I take another drink of water. She’s either completely incapable of reading a room, or she’s the type of woman who refuses to believe a man might not be interested. I’m guessing it’s the latter. When she reaches a hand out, I swat it away.
“Hey, I’m just trying to be friendly,” she says, giving me what I’m guessing she thinks is a pretty sexy pout.
“We’re not friends, and I’m not interested in sloppy seconds.”
Before she can get pissed, Ilya comes running in. “Hey,” he says, and then after several seconds adds, “you,” making it painfully obvious that he’s forgotten the girl’s name. “I told you I’d grab whatever you needed.”
“Please tell me she’s not planning on staying here all fucking day,” I tell him in Russian.
“Yeah, I was kind of hoping she’d leave last night, but no such luck. I might have to enact some tough love.”
“Do it quickly. She’s clingy, Ilya. You need to choose more carefully.”
“They’re all clingy after they get a taste of my cock,” he shrugs at the heavy burden of his apparently magical dick and then reaches down to pick her up.
She gives an over-the-top squeal as he carries her back to the room.
“One more fuck and then I’ll send her on her way,” he promises over his shoulder.
I shake my head and go take a shower. When I get back downstairs, I’m thrilled to see that clingy blonde and whoever the hell Andrei brought back are both gone. The men are sitting at the island, smiling at Katya who’s busy preparing them each an omelet.
“Hey, Katya,” I tell her, taking the cup of coffee she offers me. “Did you and Svetlana get in okay?”
“Yes, Mr. Medvedev, and the apartment over the garage is beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it.” I squeeze her shoulder before taking one of the empty barstools. No matter how many times I tell her she can call me Vasily, or even Vasya, the diminutive of my name, she refuses to do it, insisting that it would be improper.
Svetlana is the exact opposite. She comes walking in with a clothes hamper in her hands, giving me a big grin.
“Hey, Vasya. This place is crazy,” she says, an excited grin lighting up her face as she looks out at the ocean view.
“It’s Mr. Medvedev,” Katya reminds her daughter, pointing the spatula at her.
Svetlana rolls her eyes at me. “This place is beautiful, Mr. Medvedev.” She exaggerates my name and then turns to her mom. “We did hang out in diapers together.”
“He’s still your boss.”
Svetlana sighs and cuts a quick look to Andrei.
I notice the way her cheeks blush when he meets her gaze, making me think I’ve solved the mystery of who warmed his bed last night.
I lift a brow at him so he knows I know what the fuck is going on, but I don’t say anything in front of Katya.
If she has a problem with her daughter calling me by my first name, then I’m guessing she’ll have a really big problem with her daughter sleeping with one of my top men.
While I’m eating breakfast I get a text from Colin, asking me if I’d like to meet for lunch.
I tell him to text me the address and then pull it up on my phone.
He’s picked a restaurant that’s in neutral territory, and four hours later I’m pulling up to the entrance and handing the keys to my new Porsche to the valet.
Buttoning my suit jacket, I tell the hostess who I’m meeting and then follow her to a table in the corner that overlooks one of the busy downtown streets.