Chapter 2
VIKTOR
“Please… please, Viktor. Don’t do this…” His begging is interrupted by coughing and spurts of blood splatter his lips and dribble down his chin.
I’m looking down at him, crumpled into a shaky mess on the dirty warehouse floor.
The knuckles on my fists are throbbing and covered with blood, but the adrenaline has kicked in hard.
If I thought he’d last another hour, I’d happily continue beating him.
The beast in me is enjoying every minute of the carnage.
I think this has always been part of my functional disfunction. The monster inside me would always rather be fucking or fighting. Right now, I’d rather beat this son of a bitch for at least an hour more.
But looking at what’s left of his face, his smashed nose, his swollen eyes, the broken fingers on his right hand, all twisted in different directions, the dirt and blood all over his T-shirt and jeans…
I think one well-placed kick to the head would probably do the trick and end the night. Too bad slow torture isn’t my thing.
I snicker and say, “You really want your last words on earth to be begging? Shame.”
He lifts his head and peers up at me through his swollen lids. His fat and bloodied bottom lip quivers. “You have to believe me. I… I was forced. Th–they were going to send me to prison. Brother, please.” He speaks the last words in Russian, trying to appeal to my sense of brotherhood.
“When I report back to Nikolai,” I tell him, “I’m going to have to tell him that you died begging and sniveling. I doubt he’ll be surprised. Men without the backbone to stand up to the enemy when they come calling don’t deserve a seat at our table.”
His swollen face scrunches and he starts to sob. “Please… Viktor… Mercy. Have mercy on me.”
I reach into my waistband and pull out my gun. “I am. This is me at my most merciful, Pavel. Do svidaniya.”
The second I say my final goodbye to him, he starts to wail. The sound echoes around me like an agonized banshee. I pull the trigger.
His head jerks back violently as the bullet enters his forehead. What I could see of the shine of life in his eyes dulls and he falls back into a slump on the floor.
I stand and watch for a few moments as blood pools under him, the thought of putting another bullet in him crossing my mind, if for no other reason than to give myself a little more satisfaction.
Nikolai asked for a single bullet to the head after beating the shit out of him.
But my distaste for his whining and begging makes me want to kill him again.
I turn and holster my weapon, taking some breaths as I walk out of the warehouse. Breathing centers me after a job. It’s like a switch needs to be thrown inside my mind to stop the animal from raging.
Outside, it’s already getting cold. The weather’s starting to turn, and I can almost feel the coming of ice and snow in the breeze.
It’s still months before the winter comes through in earnest, but some years it comes a little early.
I hope people behave through the winter.
Doing this sort of job when it’s cold out is a kind of torture that I’ve never looked forward to.
Time to call Nikolai. I dial his number and put the phone up to my ear, my eyes drifting toward the chain link fence surrounding the property. This building is due to be demolished in the morning. A perfect burial for a rat.
“Yes?” he answers.
“It’s done,” I tell him and start to hang up.
“Good,” he responds. “Come to my place. I have something to discuss with you.”
I hesitate, but only because I have plans. “Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight. Is that a problem?”
“No, sir. I’m on my way.”
I hang up and walk the rest of the way to my car. Tonight of all nights. I hope whatever’s on his mind is short.
It probably will be, what with it being the anniversary of Nikita’s death. Maybe this conversation he wants to have has something to do with that?
I get in my car and grab an old rag that’s been sitting on my floor for a while to wipe the blood from my knuckles.
I’ll have to wash my hands when I get to his house.
Nikita used to joke about leaving provisions in the car for nights like this—baby wipes, hand sanitizer, etc.
I’ve always been opposed to that. At the time, I thought it sounded weak to have a wash-up kit waiting for you in the car after beating someone’s ass.
Now, as I peer down at the tiny red crevices in my knuckles, I wonder a little about that logic. “It’s not weak to be smart,” he used to say. It was something that he got from Teddy or one of their ilk, I think.
My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket, so I pull it out. Speak of the devil. I put it on speaker and set it on the passenger’s seat.
“Teddy,” I say. “What’s the word for tonight?”
“We’re a go,” he says, his gravelly voice filling my car. “Just like I said it would be. Unanimous vote. Nicki was one of ours, too.”
That makes me smile. Nikita’s relationship with the Red Devils was kismet and the kind of thing that proved to do nothing but good for us as the years went on. “That’s good to hear. Thank you for bringing it to the club.”
“Eh. I barely had to mention it. I know it’s been, what? Seven years now? Everybody still remembers.”
Well. Seven years already. I just turned forty this year, which means he’d have been twenty-nine. It’s strange how time flies by that way.
“Festivities start in about an hour,” he said. “Kika’s promised to bring some premium trim by if you’re looking to blow off some steam for the occasion.”
I sigh as I think about the women who liked to hang around Teddy and his gang.
They were usually pretty and the kind of sleezy I could get into.
When Nikita was alive, I’d partake here and there, but lately, I haven’t had the urge.
It’s been a while since any woman has intrigued me enough for even a one-night stand, but maybe once I’ve got a few drinks in me, I might change my mind.
The beast inside me is still a little hungry.
“That is good news,” I tell him. “Might be a little late coming through. Got some business at home base.”
“Well, I doubt the party will be slowing down before dawn, so as long as you come through before the sun comes up, you’ll be fine.”
“Good to know. I’ll see you soon.”
“Later.”
I hang up and lean back in my seat for a moment.
Seven years since the night that changed my life.
Most of the scars have healed, but my memory of that night and even the weeks leading up to it still hang in limbo.
Probably for the best. They say that the mind sometimes protects you from the things that will mess you up the most. Maybe I don’t know exactly how I almost died with my best friend.
I start the car and set off. Nikolai’s estate is just on the edge of town in a gated community where I think there may be only four houses in all within the wrought iron barriers. Big house sitting on acres and acres of land…
It reminds me of when Nikolai decided to allow his son to join the Bratva. He was a skinny vor v zakone with nothing but piss and vinegar in his veins. Given Nikita’s pedigree, he genuinely thought he knew everything at thirteen.
Young and dumb, and I had been the one selected to take him under my wing at twenty-two.
At the time, I viewed it as a way to impress his father and convince him to use my talents for wet work.
It worked a little too well. Not only did it secure my place as enforcer, but Nikita eventually signed on with me.
We’re all supposed to be a brotherhood, but Nikita was the only one I thought of as a real brother.
The only person I could trust completely, something that just doesn’t happen.
Not for Bratva, anyway. This life I live is filled with looking over my shoulder and being a step ahead.
At least when Nikita was alive, I always had someone watching out for danger with me.
But for every tragedy, there comes a chance to become stronger, and I have. I’m sharper than I ever was, and meaner. Just my name has the ability to strike fear in the hearts of my enemies.
A twenty-minute drive and I’m beyond the borders of Nikolai’s estate.
It’s been a few days since I was last here.
He was out of sorts because of his daughter, Tatiana.
She was sixteen or seventeen when I last saw her and apparently, she’s gone rogue overseas, or so say the rumors.
I’ve heard some brigadiers discussing what they would do if their daughters decided to let loose the way that Tatiana allegedly has, and all I can think is Nikolai probably needs some good news right about now.
And Pavel the Rat becoming fertilizer is just the news he needs to hear.
I pull into his circular drive and park my car off to the side. My hands are still sore and stained with blood. I flex them for a moment after I turn the car on. Guess Pavel had a hard head. I’ll need to put them in ice when I get home.
I get out of my car and straighten my suit jacket.
The moment I look up and over the roof of my car, I notice the rose trellis on the right wall of the house shivering.
At first, I think I’m seeing things in this dim evening light, but it shivers again and this time, I hear the sound of a soft grunt.
Around the car, I walk slowly, following the path of the long trellis upward to the second story.
A young woman is slowly climbing down. I lean against my car and cross my arms, watching her take careful step after step down the brittle wood of the trellis.
She has a mop of curly, light colored hair… wait, it’s pink. I see it shine as she moves into the moonlight. Definitely pink. She’s wearing a yellow dress that looks ill-fitting over her curves yet flows in the breeze as she moves. It lifts a little, flashing a red thong underneath.
Who is this pretty little thing? Whoever she is, she clearly has no intention of being in Nikolai’s company. I wait until her feet are safely on the grass before I clear my throat. She jumps and whirls around.
Shit. Shit.
We stare at each other for a few moments. The recognition is immediate. Those big, innocent brown eyes and those heart-shaped lips that always seem to be turned up into a mischievous smile. I watch as her eyes trace my face, and those lips turn up even more.
“Viktor?” she says with a gasp.
“Tanechka.”
She gapes for a moment, her face flushing. “Hi,” she says. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”
“Neither was I,” I say with a laugh. I nod to the trellis and add, “The front door was just too much trouble, huh?”
She laughs, but it doesn’t sound genuine. It sounds nervous and a little terrified. “Yeah, Papa’s downstairs and things aren’t really all that great between us right now, so I decided to take an alternate route.” She looks me up and down quickly, then, “So, how’ve you been?”
“I should ask you the same,” I say. “Word around the campfire is that you got into some hot water while you were overseas.”
Her smile fades. “Is that so? The brotherhood are filled with such fucking gossips.”
I laugh and walk toward her. “I admit that. We are terrible gossips. It’s the one worst-kept secret about the brotherhood.”
She nods and her smile returns slightly, just at the corner of her mouth. “Well, trouble tends to follow me. What more could you expect from a Bratva princess?”
“I see.” Looking at her, I suddenly realize she’s nowhere near the child she was when I last saw her.
Her body has filled out considerably and formed into a perfect hourglass shape.
And while her eyes still have the twinge of innocence in them, maturity has taken its toll.
I can even hear it in the assured tone of her voice.
Little Tati is a woman now. And what a woman she’s become.
She brushes a few of her curls out of her face and asks, “So, are you coming or going?”
I snicker as I decipher her meaning. “I’m not about to defy your father, Tati. You should know better.”
“What defiance?” she says with a coy shrug. “I just need a ride to a friend’s house. That’s all.” She takes a step toward me, her hips moving like music I can’t hear. “I can make it worth your while.”
The temptation is very much present. Looking at her now, and the tell-tale smell of roses that has always surrounded her like an aura greeting my senses… If I were a lesser man, she would have easily entrapped me.
I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and I glance over. Two of Nikolai’s men are walking our way. Tati sees them as well and her shoulders slump.
“Sorry,” I say. “Looks like you’re being summoned.”
“Dammit,” she whispers. “Just my luck.”
The men are two of Nikolai’s boesiks—Ivan and Leo.
They’re practically walking shoulder to shoulder as they approach, their nearly identical buzzcuts making them look like a pair of battery posts.
They both nod at me in acknowledgement. “Good evening,” I say back to them.
“I take it Nikolai is looking for his daughter?”
“He is,” Leo says, giving her a hard look. “He’s also waiting for you in his office.”
“On my way.” To Tati, I say, “This is where we part ways, I’m afraid. Stay out of trouble, hmm?”
“No promises,” she says smartly. With that, she turns and walks with Leo and Ivan back into the house. I watch her go, following the rocking of her firm ass. I’ll bet trouble follows her. I’ll bet it can’t help but keep her in sight at all times.