2. Dimitri
2
Dimitri
T here’s an old Cherokee tale about how two wolves live within a person. One light and one dark. And the one that wins is the one you feed the most.
I’ve always liked the story, but I call bullshit on that part.
Just as the sun needs the moon, a person is made of both light and dark and cannot be defined by only one. It’s all about balance between the qualities. If you feed only one, you starve the other to the point where animosity and jealousy grows and becomes uncontrollable. But if you feed them both, there’s a peace inside you. One that will guide your decisions and actions.?
It’s a battle I struggle with because every day that passes in this God-forsaken place is another day where the dark wolf in me wins that little bit more. I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I went undercover. What was meant to be a simple mission, get in, gather the intel and get out, has transformed into something else entirely. Some days, I don’t even recognize the man staring back at me in the mirror, while other times, it feels like I’m looking at the most real thing in my life.
“Boss?” I open my eyes and meet the gaze of my driver staring at me in the rear-view mirror. “We’re here.”
I divert my gaze to the blood red neon sign that spells out the Playground , visible through the tinted car window. My mind was so consumed by my thoughts, I didn’t even realize where we were. I value these precious moments alone in the car. I need them. These brief respites allow me to shed my forced persona, and gives me a moment to fight back the dark wolf that’s always creeping closer, ready to consume the last scrap of goodness in me—if there’s any left by now. Honestly, it’s debatable. Especially considering how there is literal blood on my hands.
“Have Alexei bring me a spare suit,” I order while I examine the fresh bloodstains on my shirt sleeves. I’ll need a shower too. It’s a good thing then that my office is essentially a small apartment.
“Yes, boss.” My driver gets out of the car and hurries around to open my door. A custom that took some getting use to.
As I climb out of the car, I rise to my full height and survey the packed street. I enjoy seeing a crowd outside the doors, not that the Playground ever lacks for guests. There’s a primal urge in every person who desires to witness the exotic and the illusive. There’s a deep desire to be embraced by the dark inside them. Where the forbidden pleasures that allure them can be explored and indulged in without fear of judgment. That’s what the Playground represents. What it gives people. What it gives me. Inside these walls, I’m just a man trying to distract myself from the reality of who I am outside this place—Dimitri Volkov, the powerful head captain of the Russian Bratva in Miami—and how my former identity as Dimitri Clark, an undercover FBI agent, continues to fade away into obscurity.?
The bouncers open the doors for me, and the sensual atmosphere envelops me the moment I step inside, like a warm hug that strips the weight off my shoulders for another day. As I expect, Alexei waits for me in my office. In my chair. With his feet on my desk. Drinking my vodka. The little shit.
“Ah! There he is. The man of the hour,” Alexei greets me with his signature half-cocked grin before he takes a giant swing from his glass.
I stride over and shove his boot clad feet off my desk. With a laugh, he stands and moves away, only to perch on the corner of the large piece of furniture.
“I brought you your spare suit, Your Highness.” He points toward where a black garment bag hangs off a door hook.
Sarcasm. How unsurprising from the Russian. Alexei is my second, just as I am Sergei’s. It’s a position I never desired or wanted to reach but was forced to when the information I was sent undercover to get wasn’t available to a low foot soldier. I thought that once I uncovered the identities of the High Table leaders, this hell would be over.?But I was wrong. Special Agent Ford…no, sorry, Director Ford now was quick to give me new orders. Since there’s never been an agent so close to the top before, the FBI is taking full advantage of it. They want as much as I can gather until I’m told otherwise. Ford’s words, not mine. So until then, I’m forced to continue portraying this persona of a man I never thought I could be, a man I’m good at being and…a man I secretly like being, too.
“Does the Bratva Prince require anything else?” Alexei continues to poke. “Need someone to scrub your back for you? Give you a quick rub down before the show?”
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest, settling Alexei with an amused look. “Are you offering?” I’m acutely aware that I’m poking a hot fire with a gasoline-soaked stick. Alexei is far from shy when it comes to physical desires; he knows exactly what he likes, and that often extends beyond just women.
“You know you only have to ask, Dimi,” he teases with a wink. I hate that nickname, and he knows it. Just like how he knows full good and well that our relationship has never been, nor will it ever cross the line of friendship. Alexei is the only man I trust completely in the Bratva. As impossible as that seems. As wrong as it should be, but I do. He knows me in all the ways that matter, minus the single most important details. That I’m an undercover federal agent and will one day be responsible for sending him and others to jail. Something tells me that small detail will ruin our friendship. And the very idea of that day pains me because while the things Alexei does for the Bratva are dark…he’s really not a bad guy at all in the grand scheme of things. If I can somehow protect him from the aftermath, I’m going to try. For all the times he has saved my life, he deserves that much.
“Keep wishing,” I say back before grabbing the bottle of vodka and pouring myself a double.
“So, how did the sale go?” Alexei asks, changing the subject back to more serious matters. His eyes snag on the blood staining my clothes. “Not well?”
I down the glass with a hiss between my teeth before responding. “Words were exchanged over price, but the Ukraine mob will be exclusively pushing a new formula of ecstasy by the end of the month.”
“Igor will be pleased,” Alexei remarks under his breath.
I bristle at the name of Sergei’s younger brother and the largest pain in my ass. Recently, he’s been trying to prove himself to his brother by encroaching on my role, doubting my decisions, and causing his brother to question my business choices. “I couldn’t give a fuck what pleases that fat waste of space.”
My timing is perfect. Alexei, who had been in the middle of taking a sip of his drink, snorts at my crude yet honest opinion causing alcohol to come flying out of his nose. “Motherfucker!” he shouts. “Shit, that burns.” Wiping at his face with a napkin, he scowls at me. “Jesus, give a man a heads-up next time, will you?” Standing, he turns his attention to his soiled clothes. “Great. Now, I have to go change.”?
Instead of leaving to do so, though, he sets his glass down and promptly strips out of his button-down shirt, exposing his pale chest. Alexei is tall with a lean boxer build and just like me, he’s covered in tattoos. He keeps his hair short, and the dark brown color matches his eyes. The low light of my office catches on the silver ring piercing his brow. The sight of it tells me he hasn’t been in the fighting pit tonight. It’s the first thing he takes off and the last thing he puts back on…if he even remembers to do it.
“Get out of here, Alexei,” I order. “We have a show to prepare for.”
A wicked gleam appears in my friend’s dark eyes. “That we do, boss. That we do.”
I don’t know what it is about tonight, but there’s something in the air that has me on edge and my nerves frayed. The feeling doesn’t hit me completely until I emerge from my office, freshly showered and dressed in a clean suit for tonight’s festivities. But with each step I take downstairs, the feeling intensifies. My eyes scan the crowd, the exits, every blind spot, looking for the source of the feeling, but find nothing. Still…I’ve learned to trust my gut feeling over the years. So, I signal a soldier at the bottom of the stairs.
“Have the men sweep the place,” I order him when he approaches. A look of hesitation crosses his face. I hate being questioned, even if it’s quietly and even more right now with the way I’m feeling. “Is that a problem?”
“No, boss,” he quickly answers, dropping his eyes to the floor. “I’ll have it done right away.”
That’s better.
“Report to Alexei when you’re done.”
“Yes, sir.”
I watch him go, remembering a time when I was him. A foot soldier no better respected than the dirt on the bottom of Igor’s shoe. Maybe that’s why the fat bastard has such a problem with me. When it came time to replace his second, Sergei chose loyalty over blood, promoting me rather than his brother. I don’t blame Sergei. Igor’s a waste of time and space. He thinks with his cock too much to be of any good use to conduct business. The day I put him away behind bars will feel good.
As soon as I sit in my chair, Ana, one of the few waitresses allowed to serve me, approaches with a swing in her hips and a sultry smile on her blood-red lips. “Good evening, Mr. Volkov,” she says in a seductive tone. “Would you like the usual?”
I peer up at her, fighting hard to ignore the tiny, raised hairs on the back of my neck. She’s not the cause of the feeling, but maybe she can help soothe it. “Bring me the bottle tonight, Ana.” Just before she leaves, I add, “And Ana? I expect to see you in my office after the show.”
A blush blooms on her cheeks. She’s a pretty girl with a platinum hair color you can only get from a bottle and big doe brown eyes. I don’t have favorites, but Ana is my usual go to when I need my brain to quiet down. Because outside of these walls, I have to remain focused and free of distractions. It’s a matter of life or death. “Yes, sir,” she purrs before bowing her head and leaving.
I glance from the time on my phone to the large glass box in front of me. Each show is slightly different, but all follow the same routine. The curtains are drawn, blocking the participants from being seen until it’s time to begin. Once it does…well, that’s when the fun really begins. Because the only rule in the Playground is that there are no rules. Anything goes so long as participation is consensual.
Ana returns with my drink and a stowaway. Alexei has his arm draped across her shoulders and he leans down to whisper something in her ear that makes the girl giggle. He reluctantly lets her go so she can pour my drink, leaving the bottle as ordered. Alexei leans against my seat and wiggles his fingers at Ana as she turns to leave. “Bye-bye for now, sweet Ana. Be a good girl for our boss here later, and maybe I’ll reward you afterward.”
After Ana leaves, I turn to my second and meet his amused eyes. “You’re lucky you’re good at business.”
Alexei snorts and pushes off my chair to claim the one adjacent. “Well, maybe if you actually took care of the girl after she sucks your cock bone dry, I wouldn’t offer. But you know, if you need some pointers—”
“Did the men find anything?” I interrupt his monologue, not needing to hear another lecture from my second on the reasons why I sometimes just want a fucking blowjob without the girl expecting anything back. Call me an inconsiderate asshole or whatever, but the last thing I need is a girl getting her hopes up or forming emotional ties with me.
“Nothing but a full house,” Alexei answers, knowing when to push and when not to.
I believe him and trust that the men did their jobs; it’s their heads on the line if they didn’t. Still, the feeling lingers. I do my best to brush it off and ignore it by downing a glass of vodka to quell the restlessness. From my elevated seat, I’m able to see the entire back room of the Playground . It’s a large room, two stories tall, with a glass box the size of a small bedroom set in the middle on a pedestal, like a centerpiece on display. Private tables that resemble smaller versions of cabanas surround the box. While up above me on the second story rest the private rooms available for guests to use at any point before, during, or after the show.
As guests file in, I spy from the corner of my eye a guard approach Alexei and bend down to whisper something in his ear. Once alone, I meet my friend’s eyes with a raised brow and wait expectantly.
“It appears we have a special guest among the crowd tonight, Dimitri.”
“Who’s that?”
“A little angel,” he says with a wicked smile growing on his lips. “Gabriella DiAngelo is here.”
Well, this night just got a hell of a lot more interesting.