Chapter 14 Roman
ROMAN
It was a long night and an even longer morning, but the dirty work is done and the business is back on as usual.
When I came into the office this evening, everything was moving along like nothing at all happened… though I’ll have to remind Natasha to keep quiet about everything to their coworkers. Pretty sure I drove the point home after I sent her and Junie off to get looked at, but one never knows.
Last I heard, she’s all right. She walked away with a black eye, bruises and fingernail cuts around her neck, but otherwise, she’s all right. I made sure to give her a few thousand dollars so she can take some time off to heal.
My guys are all through the club now. Junie’s home with a concussion, so I had to get somebody to cover the door anyway. I’m sure Ember’s pissed about that, but she’ll just have to get over it.
As for Natasha’s boyfriend? He won’t bother her again. I made sure of that.
I’m sitting on the couch in my office, having a drink. My fists are bruised and sore. That guy had a hard face and could take a punch. Those first few punches were like hitting concrete. Just like concrete, however, if you hit it enough times, it eventually cracks and crumbles.
I look down at the club and the spot where we ‘handled’ things. The blood has been mopped up. The teeth, fingers, and toes that were left in puddles of blood around his chair were found and disposed of. The sin we committed is as gone as he is.
A knock at the door. I turn just as it opens and Ember peeks her head in. “Are you busy?”
“No,” I answer. “Come in.”
She comes all the way in and closes the door behind her. Tonight, like every night, she looks good, a simple cream business suit and her white blonde hair tied up in a bun. It’s very professional and sexy as fuck.
I look away from her, drinking my glass of vodka. She’s probably about to lay into me about what happened.
“I know you said no ‘business’ on the premises,” I say, beating her to it. “But you have to understand. Last night was something that needed to happen.”
“It didn’t need to happen,” she says, “but I get why you did it.” I hear her sigh heavily. “Thank you… for taking care of things.”
I look over my shoulder at her. She’s got her hands clasped in front of her humbly.
“For the record,” I say, “I don’t take pleasure in doing shit like that. The way I see it—”
“Would you have done the same for me?” she asks.
It’s an honest question. It deserves an honest answer. “He’d have gotten worse for coming after you.”
She doesn’t respond. She walks all the way in and sits on the arm of the couch and goes, “Good to know, I guess. Anyway, it’s done and over with… and Natasha’s safe. I’m grateful for that. Let’s drop it, okay?”
I nod and take another sip from my glass. She scowls as her eyes train on my reddened and lacerated knuckles.
“That looks infected,” she says. “You should wrap them up.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her.
“No, it’s not. Hold on.”
She turns and leaves. I finish the last of the vodka and by the time I’m setting the glass to the side, she returns with a first aid kit. She sits next to me on the couch and opens the kit. “Hands, please.”
“This is unnecessary.”
“What kind of boss would you be if your hands stopped working?” she asks me, her head tilted slightly. “I’ve got enough on my plate. Let’s not add that, too.”
I hand her my left hand, resting it on her thigh as she gets the alcohol and cotton balls. “I swear every time I come in here, you pull me into trouble. You are bad news, Mr. Orlov.”
That makes me smile, but not for long. As soon as the cold sting of the alcohol laden cotton ball touches the tiny cuts in my knuckles, I flinch and scowl. She holds my hand firmly.
“It’ll only be a second,” she says, pulling it back to her. “Come on. You used these well enough last night. A little sting can’t be that bad.”
I snicker. “You should have been a nurse. You have the right bedside manner for it.”
She dabs my knuckles. Slowly, I start to notice her fingers rubbing my palms slowly. I squeeze her fingers and she smirks at me.
“Sorry. I guess I never noticed how callused your hands are.”
“You don’t like it.”
“I do, actually. Rough hands are a sign of hard work.”
“I’ll remember that.” I let her take care of the cuts on both my knuckles, watching how delicate she is in her treatment. She’s doing her best not to hurt me any more than she has to right now. It’s curious. It’s like she’s a restoration artist working to restore some fragile piece of art.
“I know you didn’t come in here just to tend to my wounds.”
She nods. “No, actually, I came up here on business. Actual club business.”
She turns and tosses the cotton balls in the trash basket a few feet away. Then she turns to the bandages, peeling them from the sticky surface and placing them over my red, scarred, and bruised skin.
“What’s up?” I ask her.
The task done, she tosses the rest of the trash and closes the first aid tin. “I was thinking with everything that happened, we should start interviewing for more security.”
“Not necessary. I handled that. If you didn’t notice, I’ve got one of my guys at the door and several of them working security around the club.”
“Yeah, well…” She hesitates, looking down at her hands for a second. “We shouldn’t rely on your brothers so much for security, anyway. I mean, I know that’s the arrangement for keeping the police out of here, but do we really need them as regular security?”
I raise an eyebrow up at her skeptically. “You’re fucking with me, right?”
She purses her lips and shifts in her seat uncomfortably. “I’m serious.”
“You won’t find any better security than the Bratva, milaya. Just the reputation will keep out the riffraff.”
“It could also draw unwanted attention,” she says.
“So what if it does? I’ve kept my word as far as conducting Bratva business here. If we were raided today, they wouldn’t find anything.”
“They’d find something,” she says. “Even if they had to make it up. And anyway, I don’t understand why you’d even want to risk it either way.”
I sigh. She’s being pretty insistent about this. I guess the problem with Natasha’s boyfriend freaked her more than she’s admitting.
“All right,” I say. “You can start looking. I want final say, though.”
“Final say? Are you serious?”
“Of course I am. What could you possibly know about security?”
She scoffs and says, “I know enough to hire someone adequate. Have a little faith, huh?”
I put my hands up in surrender. “All right. You win. Whoever you would like.”
“Thank you. As it happens, I already have somebody in mind, actually.”
“Really?”
She nods. “The universe must have known I’d start looking soon because I literally ran into this guy yesterday morning as I was getting my coffee. He even heard of the club and me. I think he’s been here a few times. He said that he was having a hard time finding work and asked if we were hiring.”
I tilt my head slightly, mild alarms going off. Some guy who was hitting on you, you think would be good for this job? “That’s a bit of a strange coincidence, don’t you think?”
“What are you talking about?”
She’s so smart and oblivious all at once, it’s laughable. “He probably was here one night, saw the hot woman asserting authority around the club and thought he could shoot his shot at you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? You are an incredibly beautiful woman. I’m sure any man would move mountains to be with you.”
She holds my gaze for a moment, then looks away, flushed. “You make it very hard to keep things casual when you say stuff like that.”
“I can save it for dinner. You never set a date with me.”
She blinks, then her smile softens. “Sunday night. Georgio’s. Seven o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Anyway,” she says. “I’ll give him a call on my break.”
She stands, breaking our connection completely. “That’s fine. What’s his name?”
Before she can answer, my phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket to see that it’s Ares.
“I need to take this.”
She waves me off. “Go ahead.”
I watch her walk out of the room, then answer the call. “Yeah.”
“Our friend has been spotted on your side of town,” says Ares.
Sergei. I had a feeling that was him watching me from the edge of my property. “Anywhere in my neighborhood?”
“One of our guys spotted him sitting in his car at the end of your block for a few hours last night. He’s definitely watching your movements.”
That’s not good. This needs to be dealt with swiftly. “I want him found yesterday. Understand?”
“It’ll be done.”
He hangs up. Son of a bitch. I can’t help but think of Sasha coming home from school and running into this guy… or something worse. Maybe my first thought of having somebody keep an eye on the property wasn’t so paranoid, after all.
Either way, this guy needs to be found. And found fast.