Chapter 53 Ransome
RANSOME
“I’m alright. For fuck’s sake, I’m fine.” My mom shoves the EMT who is trying to bandage her hand away.
The bullets, shot from a Chadovich car outside the restaurant, luckily missed everyone inside. The only contact they made was with the bottle of chardonnay that my mother was reaching for. It exploded and cut her hand, but other than that, we saw no bloodshed.
This time.
My father, with little to no concern for his wife, throws down his napkin. He has been spewing Russian swear words for a solid ten minutes. Who he even called, I don’t care. All I care about is Amara being safe.
Once the perimeter has been secured, I turn to Ivan. “Take her to the penthouse.”
“But I don’t want to go,” she argues. “I want to stay with you.”
Amara is clinging to me like a five year old clings to their parent on the first day of school. Which I get—she has just been on the other side of a lead shower—but I don’t have the mental bandwidth to entertain her right now.
“You can’t stay with me.” I usher her into the back of the Escalade.
“Ransome, we were just shot at! I don’t want to be alone!”
“You won’t be,” I tell her. “You’ll be with Ivan.”
“I don’t want to be with fucking Ivan! I want to be with you.”
“I have things to take care of.” I shoot her a hard look. “This is all part of it. Get used to it. Now.”
She looks wounded by my words. Her bottom lip is trembling the way it does when she’s fighting a big emotion. The kind she desperately wants to keep private. Guilt, humiliation, fear.
I know she’s scared. Fuck me, I do. But she knew what she was getting into when she agreed to date me. She signed on the dotted line. She doesn’t get to have a mental breakdown and realize she’s in too deep now.
She’ll collect herself if she knows what’s good for her.
“Okay,” she whispers. “Fine. If that’s what you want, Mr. Rozanov.”
Her cold address makes my fists clench harder, but I force myself to ignore it. To ignore the glaring evidence that I’ve just hurt her in more ways than one.
Being unhurt was never part of our deal.
I close the door and Ivan takes off. Then Mav, Baron and I walk over to the parking lot.
“Did anyone see the car?” I ask.
“It wasn’t Tristan,” Baron answers.
“I’m not surprised. He’s not this stupid.”
“But it was an inside job,” Baron goes on.
“He would hire someone to do his bitchwork,” Mav jokes.
I spin around, ready to grab him by the throat. “Amara was shot at. That’s not bitchwork.”
But Mav just grins. “You’re getting attached.”
“Are you attached to your face? Because I’m about to make it damn fucking hard to recognize.”
“Mav’s right,” Baron cuts in. “Keep your head clear, boss.”
“You know none of this would have happened if we’d handled things our way,” Mav points out.
“Yeah, well, the old men like to handle it like gentlemen,” Baron says. “With negotiations and agreements.”
“Meanwhile, we’re getting shot at by Tristan’s boys,” Mav spits. “If they’re going to play dirty, so are we. We’ll hunt Tristan down, beat it out of him, find the men he hired, and do the same to them.”
“What do you think?” Baron asks.
But I think it’s obvious what I think.
“We’re going to find the men who could have killed Amara and nearly took my mom’s hand off,” I snarl. “And we’re going to make them wish they’d die by being beaten to death.”
“Let’s go!” Mav claps.
Everything is on fire right now, including my temper. But one thing is for certain. When I am pakhan, things are going to be run very differently. I will rule with a harsher hand.
Driving around in Chadovich territory is never a good idea. But I am determined to find Tristan. Whether he was the one who fired the bullets or not, I want to get my hands on him. I know he’s behind it all.
“We should just light their world on fire,” Mav says. “They’ll come crawling out of the woodwork if their homes are up in flames.”
Maverick has always had a trigger-pulling mentality when it comes to fighting the Chadovichs. Obviously, that’s not the way to handle things.
“The focus right now is Amara,” I say flatly. “I need to keep her safe.”
“You’re really in deep, aren’t you, Cuz?” Baron asks.
My eyes rip from the road long enough to shoot bullets in his direction.
“He’s not wrong.” Mav smiles, leaning in from the back seat. “And I feel like you need to reel it in.”
“I think you both need to shut your fucking mouths,” I snap.
“I think what Maverick is trying to say is be careful,” Baron says.
“What I’m trying to say is if you’re going to keep her close, keep her close. As in rein that shit in,” Maverick has the gall to go on. “Word on the street is she was seen with Tristan.”
“She was caught alone with him at the masquerade because he followed her outside,” I say. “And that’s been taken care of.”
“Not the masquerade,” Mav says. “Last night.”
“Last night?” I frown. “Amara wasn’t with Tristan last night.”
“Do you know where she was?” Baron dares to ask.
My jaw clenches and unclenches. “She was with her friend.”
“With her friend where?” Mav presses.
“They went out. To a speakeasy.”
“That tracks.” Mav snorts.
I slam the brakes hard.
“I don’t know what the fuck you two are insinuating,” I snarl, “but—”
“There’s been rumors that they were seen together,” Baron cuts in. “That’s all.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t know who they’re hearing it from or where, but I will get to the bottom of it. Like every other fire in my life, I will put it out.
And when I do, people will learn just how different things are going to be when I am pakhan.
After circling all the places Tristan would usually hang around—empty lots where they tailgate and the warehouse they work out at—I pull up to one of the bars in their territory.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Baron asks as I undo my seatbelt. Maverick is already halfway out the door.
“His brothers’ cars are here. So he most likely is too.”
“I doubt we will be able to get in the door.” Baron nods over at the beast of a man in black guarding the front of the building like a pitbull.
“Which is why we are going in the back.”
I get out. Baron reluctantly follows.
We make our way down the alley where people are hanging out, drinking, smoking, practically banging against the brick wall. Everyone is staring. Everyone knows who we are. If Tristan is in there, it’s only a matter of time before someone tells him we are coming.
And I don’t give a shit.
The back door opens as two girls are leaving. One of them holds it open for us with her ass as she lights a cigarette. She smiles at me, blowing smoke in my face as I go.
I ignore her and walk inside. Baron thanks her and Mav says something dirty to her. I snap my fingers and he keeps walking. It’s not the time and this is very much not the place.
We make our way down the hall. It’s a seedy night club kind of joint, not a place the Bratva goes to strut status. More like a place they go where the drinks will be free if they pay for the girls.
As we come to the opening, I stop. My head slowly pivots to scan the room. The place is crawling with people, including guys I’ve seen Tristan hanging around with. But no Tristan.
“Yury and Daniil,” Baron says over the pounding bass. “Two o’clock.”
Bingo.
Even if he’s not here, his brothers will know where I can find him.
We shove our way through the crowd, pissing people off as we go. But they’re too drunk to do anything about it, so everyone moves on their own account.
Tristan’s brothers are sitting across from each other in a booth, each of them holding a girl.
I stop in front of the table and point at each of the girls, then motion for them to get lost. They move without hesitation, and the boys look annoyed.
Until they see my face.
“He’s not here,” Daniil goes first.
“Where is he?” I demand.
“He didn’t say,” Yury answers. He takes a sip of his beer and refuses to look at me.
I grab the bottle out of his hand and toss it behind me. I’m not sure where or who it lands on and I don’t care. Then I put my hands on the table, elbows locked, and lean in close enough that I can see the sorry attempt of growing facial hair on Yury’s skin.
“I’m going to give you the opportunity to answer my question one more time. After that, you won’t have enough fingers left to stroke your own dick.”
“You might not even have a dick,” Mav adds.
Daniil swallows hard and opens his mouth, but Yury talks instead.
“He told us he had business. He didn’t say what. And if you just start hacking up Chadovichs in a Chadovich bar, it won’t end well for you.”
My attention turns to him. Yury is cockier. Bolder. While his younger brother sweats bullets, he doesn’t even blink. Honestly, he’d be the better choice for pakhan than Tristan. He’s level.
But by the time I am pakhan, the Chadovichs won’t need one.
“The place is teeming, Ransome,” Barons warns me, and I know. Security has already clocked us and we are outnumbered by a lot.
I stand up straight, my eyes still locked on Yury. Then I grab his glass, take a sip, and slide it back to him before we turn and walk out, through the front door this time.
“What the fuck?” Mav goes off as soon as we are outside. “Why didn’t you do anything?”
“I did do something,” I state coolly as I get back in the car.
“You could have fooled me,” Mav huffs.
“He made a statement,” Baron says. He gets it.
“A statement?” Mav laughs. “Looked more like you backed down to me.”
“We went into a Chadovich bar and threatened the youngest Chadovich. Tristan, wherever he is hiding, will hear about it. And when he does, he will come to us. We won’t even have to do anything.”
“Feels pussy whipped to me,” Mav mumbles.
But Mav and I hunt differently. He goes into the woods guns blazing.
I set up traps and wait.