Chapter 18 Anton
ANTON
The sun breaks in through my window and I’m up with the sun. Despite how little sleep I’ve gotten, I’m on my feet and ready for this day.
There’s a lot to be done still. My property and home are secure, but I need to check in on my businesses. I don’t know what the Amur will go after next now that Mikki has been attacked.
After Natalya left the room, he told me that the guy who attacked him gave him a message.
Regards from Nikolai. The bastard is openly mocking me now.
Instead of killing Mikki outright, he sent him back to me like a messenger.
And attacking with a knife instead of a gun…
it’s smart and precise. Mikki was meant to walk away from that attack.
I feel like he’s standing somewhere I can’t reach, laughing at me and waiting for me to make the next move so that he can use that opportunity to wipe us all out.
I’ve got to get ahead of this. I need to check in with the other brigadiers to get a lay of the land as it is. They know the parts that they are to play. They know where and whom to strike. I just need to know how many of Nikolai’s properties, men, whatever are in the ground in comparison to us.
When my father was alive, he used to tell me about his time serving in Russia’s army during the First Chechen War.
His stories always involved bombs and foxholes, tanks and regimens.
What I’m dealing with is nowhere near as devastating.
Still, winning this war is something that I hope he’d be proud of.
I shower and dress quickly. Nothing fancy today, a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck.
I need to make a call to Iggy to see if he knows someone who can get large pools of blood out of couch (and probably the seats of Mikki’s car) upholstery.
I’ll also need to have someone come over and unload the clothing from Mikki’s car so that Natalya will have something to wear.
I grab my phone from my nightstand and go to leave when it rings in my hand. I glance down at it. Vladimir Petrov’s name in bold letters flashes back at me. Great. I don’t need this today.
I answer it. “Hello?”
“Anton? How are you?”
Vladimir Petrov always has a smooth, calm voice when he’s speaking to his contemporaries.
When I was just starting out as a brigadier, I’d hear some of the others call him the ‘whispering gentleman’.
It’s been my experience that when they call someone a gentleman in my world, it usually means the opposite.
“I’m fine,” I tell him. “What can I do for you? I don’t imagine this is a casual call.”
“Well, I’m afraid not, my friend. My daughter has taken it upon herself to run off. I’m quite concerned about her. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her, have you?”
That’s an interesting way to put it. He’s talking about her like she’s a child. Was she not living in her own apartment when she came to me? “No,” I tell him. “But I’ve been busy lately. I don’t suppose you’ve heard about that whole business while I was overseas.”
“Yes, yes. Moi soboleznovaniya. I’m sorry for your loss. I can only imagine what it must be like to have the helm of Pakhan thrust upon you. If you need any tips and tricks, I’ll be happy to oblige.”
I could laugh. I probably should. It’s clear he means that as a joke. I’m not feeling particularly funny right now, though. “Thank you, but I’m handling things all right,” I tell him.
“Hmm. Yes, you do know how to handle things, don’t you?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. His tone hasn’t changed. He still sounds like he’s joking, but he’s not. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” he says. “You and my daughter? Fucking in that secret sex club of yours? How long did you think the two of you could keep something like that from me?”
Not long, apparently. “She’s an adult, Vladimir. She can do as she likes.”
“She is my daughter and you know better. You know, I have killed men for lesser crimes than violating my daughter the way you have. You’re very lucky to still be walking around right now.”
“I don’t really have the time or the inclination to argue about this with you. I have important matters to attend to. Maybe you should focus on keeping your family business out of the streets.”
“Easily said for someone who thinks he’s not a part of that business,” he says, his voice deepening. “Let me tell you something, Anton. If I find out that you are protecting her, I will have your balls cut off and shoved down your throat.”
“She shouldn’t need protecting from you,” I say. “Don’t threaten me, Vladimir. I’m a Pakhan now. You don’t want to cross the line with me.”
“You’re still a snotnose shestyorka and I will crush you under my heel for desecrating my daughter’s honor.”
“Well, you know where to find me,” I tell him. “I’ll be waiting right here if you want to test your strength.”
With that said, I hang the phone up. Fuck Vladimir. I don’t care who the fuck he is. He doesn’t get to threaten me so casually.
I put my phone in my pocket and leave my bedroom.
It’s a good thing I locked up Natalya’s phone.
He won’t come for me just for having sex with her.
Not now that I’m a Pakhan. That kind of thing would start a war that I imagine he doesn’t want.
However, Mikki was right about one thing.
When he gets wind of the Amur’s attacks on me, he might be all the more motivated to join their crusade.
I sincerely hope he thinks better of it. It might take me some time and effort, and I believe I could answer his attacks effectively, but staving off two Bratvas in a tenure that’s lasted less than a couple of months is about as undesirable of a situation that I could want.
I walk down the stairs and notice my door is open. My senses are heightened as I approach the door, hand on the gun in my belt. I get to it and see that it’s ajar, so I step behind it and push it open slowly.
Sitting at the curb, just a few steps shy of my front steps, is Mikki’s car. There’s a noticeable trail of blood droplets leading up to my door from where he came in last night. But that’s not the most interesting thing.
The back door of the car is open. I can see under the door are two bare feet with pink nail polish on them.
I smile. I guess she couldn’t wait for me. I take my hand off my gun and walk down the stairs.
When I get to the car, I stand behind her. She’s wearing one of my robes. It’s so big on her that part of the hem is dragging on the sidewalk. Leaning into the car, her ass is turned up as she stands on her tiptoes to get at something on the other side of the pile of clothes on the back seat.
It’s comical. She’s clamoring around in there like a raccoon rummaging through trash. I clear my throat.
She jumps and bangs her head on the car ceiling. “Shit!” she swears as she backs out, rubbing her head. The robe is hanging off her precariously. It looks like she had it tightly tied, but all the movement has moved the belt down and now the opening is showing a little too much of her cleavage.
She looks at me as she winces and touches her head. “You scared the shit out of me,” she says.
“Sorry,” I say as I laugh. “You could have just asked me to take care of this.”
“What? And interrupt your whole… thing? You’ve probably got lots of Bratva stuff to do today. I didn’t want to get in the way.”
I take her by the hand, gently pulling her away from the car. “Relax. I’ll have someone bring all this up to your room today.”
“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” she asks. “I can’t walk around in an oversized robe all day. I’d like to shower, put on clean clothes.”
“Okay, so… pick out an outfit and get back inside. You shouldn’t be out here like this.”
“No kidding.” She rolls her eyes and dives back into the backseat, picking out a pair of jeans and a shirt. “You still have to get me underwear.”
“There’s no underwear?”
“There is, but… I don’t know if I want to wear someone else’s panties.”
I tilt my head at her. “What makes you think something like that?”
“Your friend… Mikki. He said all this came from somebody named Maria.”
I have to stifle a laugh. “Maria’s Boutique in the city. The owner is Mikki’s little sister. It’s a store in front of a club. I’m surprised you’ve never been there. I hear it’s very popular with the kids these days.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, you can’t tell that by looking. I mean, everything is everywhere. No hangers or anything.”
“If you don’t like it, I can always have Mikki return this stuff.”
“No, no.” She reaches back into the car and pulls out a bra and panty set. “It’s fine. Really.”
We head back inside and she goes upstairs to get dressed. I sit down and make my phone calls, calling Iggy about Mikki and about someone who could take care of the mess. When he picks up, he sounds out of breath.
“Interrupting my morning jog to clean up another mess,” he says sarcastically. “Beautiful. And what’s with Mikki coming to you instead of me? He’s too good for my stitches now?”
I have to laugh at Iggy’s fake indignance. “You’ll have to talk to Mikki about that,” I tell him.
“Bah. Tell him to come to me this afternoon. I need to double-check your work.”
“I’ll pass the message along.” He sounds like he’s joking, but he’s serious about this part. Mikki had better get his ass over there today.
Iggy promises to send over a friend of his that cleans crime scenes for a living as well as two of his nieces to take care of bringing the clothes in for Natalya after that. Then we banter a little more. “Leah keeps asking after you, you know,” he says of his wife. “Call her every once in a while.”