Chapter 19 #2
I watch his gaze flick to me and Kostya, and I recognize the disdain instantly. The feeling is mutual. Once he’s done sizing up Kostya, his eyes land on me, his contempt multiplying at what he finds.
I let a slow, knowing smirk stretch across my face just to piss him off more.
“Marcello Romano.” I drawl his name like a mild insult. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you at my club.”
His response is as stiff as expected. “Wasn’t my plan either. A decent uncle would’ve driven his niece home.”
I suppress my anger at his remark and force myself to widen my already cocky grin.
“Never claimed to be decent.”
Frankie quickly cuts in, sensing the tension between us. “Uncle, be nice.”
I soften immediately at the anxiety in her voice.
“Only for you, plemyannitsa.” I offer her a warm smile. “Besides, we both know I would have driven you to the moon and back if you asked. I just had… something come up.”
“It’s okay. It’s my fault for dropping by without calling you first. Maybe we can have a family dinner this weekend? My place. I’ll cook.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
For her, I’d cancel every meeting for the next month if I had to.
She then turns to my brother and asks, “Are you coming too, Uncle Kostya?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Kostya replies, but his focus is distracted from our niece and locked on Marcello’s car. Then he murmurs to me, low and tense, “Stella’s here. And she’s not alone.”
Everything inside me stills.
“Oh?” I turn instantly, eyes snapping to the car, and finding that flaming red hair of hers hiding in the back seat. My pulse jumps before I can control it.
But then Kostya leans in and whispers something lethal in my ear, words that hit like a sniper’s bullet to the chest. “Kill,” he murmurs, voice suddenly tight. “The woman sitting in the front passenger seat… that’s the Fed. The one from San Francisco. That’s her. I’m positive.”
And everything inside me, every warm thought, every flicker of joy at seeing Stella again, turns to fire and ice at the same damn time.
My blood starts roaring.
I look at the car again. Really look.
Red hair in the back.
A brunette in the front.
My heartbeat spikes into something violent.
The rage hits so fast it steals my breath.
This is the Fed who infiltrated our operations.
The Fed who cost us months of work.
The Fed whose team burned down everything we built out west.
Sitting close to Stella.
Breathing the same air.
Close enough to touch.
Something feral cracks loose in my chest, rage flooding into my veins, fast and vicious.
“Change of plans,” I say, my voice going cold as winter steel. “I’m taking my niece home.”
And before Marcello can say a single word in argument, I bolt into the snowstorm, fury propelling me across the parking lot. The wind claws at me, but nothing slows me down. Not when she is in that car.
I reach the back door, grip the handle, and rip it open.
Stella looks up at me—my Stella—and for a heartbeat I almost lose all track of thought.
Almost.
“Get out,” I order.
“No.”
I bite back a snarl. This woman will be the death of me.
“I’m in no mood for games, milaya. Get out of the car,” I say, lowering my tone, trying and fucking failing at being patient with her.
She doesn’t move.
God give me strength.
“I said get your sweet little ass out of this car. Now, Stella!”
“And I said no, Kirill. Go away!”
Not happening.
I lean in and take her arm with a grip that isn’t harsh but still unmistakably firm, then pull her out of the seat. She begins to rant and rave in protest, as expected, but I don’t miss how she doesn’t actually fight my grip off her.
As I haul Stella towards my club, I see that Kostya has a gun jammed into Marcello’s ribs, keeping him from interfering.
Good.
Marcello bares his teeth at my brother as I drag Stella through the snow, still cursing up a storm.
“Take them inside,” I order Kostya once I’ve reached them, my brother immediately steering Kira and Stella inside my club.
“Uncle, what are you doing?” Kira calls back, confused and worried, but I don’t answer, my attention now fully on Marcello and the fury radiating off him.
“You have no idea what you’ve just done. Wars have started for less.”
I step closer, meeting his threat with one of my own.
“Agreed.” I then lower my voice to a whisper that could cut steel. “You brought a Fed to my club, Romano? The fuck are you playing at?”
His whole body tenses. “What?”
I study him closely.
He’s confused, like any man would be if he had no clue what I was talking about.
“Fuck.” I drag a hand through my wet hair. “You don’t know.”
“Know what, Kirill?” he demands, completely unaware that I’m about to ruin his night.
I lean in again, my voice dropping to ice. “The woman in your passenger seat is an undercover FBI agent.”
He freezes instantly.
Good.
“What?”
“She’s a Fed. Kostya ran into her in San Francisco. She and her team took down good men. Seized enough of our product to cripple us out west. Months of work gone. All because of her.”
“She’s… FBI?” His shock is real, but I don’t have time to pity the fool.
“Yeah. And if you care about this fragile truce our families have right now, you’ll keep her the hell away from anything Bratva-related.
” I step in even closer, letting my threat settle into his bones.
“And if I ever see her near Stella or any of my family again, I’ll kill her myself and leave her corpse at your doorstep. Fed or not. Understood?”
I give him one last disdainful look, straight past him and toward his car. Toward the Fed still sitting inside it, clueless about how close she came to dying just now.
The only reason why I didn’t put a bullet in her was because Kira was watching.
After I let that threat fester in the air, I turn my back on him and walk into my club, my fury trailing behind me like smoke.
“You have lost your goddamn mind!” Stella shouts the moment she sees me again.
Kostya has a nervous Kira and an enraged Stella sitting in my office, but it’s the fury in my younger brother’s eyes, brewing like a thunderstorm ready to break, that demands my attention first.
I get why he’s pissed.
Kostya vowed to kill the undercover FBI agent who ruined his California deal the next time he saw her.
Because of her, he was branded incompetent not only in Sasha’s eyes but probably in Misha’s too.
And say what you will about my little brother, his ego and pride are just as big as any Petrov man’s.
Being denied that opportunity to make that mistake right, would sour any Bratva underboss.
“You’ll get your chance. Just not tonight.”
“Sure, I will,” he seethes, running his fingers through his hair in aggravation, but then his anger subsides somewhat when his attention is suddenly pulled to the two women in the room. “Shit. What do we do now? The meet is,” he glances at his fancy watch, “Shit! It’s in forty minutes.”
He’s right.
Blyad!
I can’t just leave Stella and Kira here while Kostya and I go bribe some local officials.
Pizdets!
“I’ll go,” Kostya says, squaring his shoulders. “Take the girls home and I’ll go… set things up for you.”
“No. You take the girls. I’ll handle the meet. They’re expecting me anyway.”
“Those fuckers couldn’t tell us apart even if they tried. I’ll go.” He lowers his voice and leans closer. “Besides…” His gaze flicks toward Stella. “You have a banshee to deal with.”
“Are you sure you can handle this?”
He nods.
I throw an arm around his shoulders and pull him close. “Wire them the money, but make sure they understand that failure to do what’s expected of them means that they won’t live long enough to spend a dime of it. Understood?”
“Not my first rodeo bribing a man. I won’t fuck this up. Just trust me.”
I look at my brother for half a heartbeat before nodding once.
“I do trust you. Go. Handle business. While I…”
“Handle your woman,” he finishes with a wink before heading out.
I exhale deeply and turn toward Stella.
God, she looks good.
And being this close to her again… I didn’t realize how much I missed it until now.
But I can’t dwell on that. First, I need to take Kira home.
Then?
Then I’ll have some quality time with my woman.
It’s been a long time coming.