12. Dimitri
12
Dimitri
G abriella stretches on the couch and yawns big before snatching her reading glasses off her nose and tossing them on top of her book. She has one last exam, and then she’s free for the summer—a summer I plan to occupy for much of it. And true to her word, she’s aced every exam so far, her determination to go to the Playground driving her. She reaches for the TV remote and turns on her playlist built for studying.
My phone rings and Alexei’s smug face appears on the screen, cutting off my view of Gabriella’s home. She doesn’t know about the hidden cameras and I’m not about to tell her either. Call it crazy stalker behavior or possession, but I call it proactive security and reassurance of her location. Besides, she seems to enjoy when I surprise her and the only way I can do that is if I know where she is.
“What is it?” I snap.
“I need you at the warehouse right away,” he answers in a solemn and even tone. “We have a situation.”
It’s unusual for Alexei to reach out to me for help, being capable of handling his own business, so when he does, it’s a rare emergency.
I stand and slip my suit jacket on before sliding my phone in my pocket and leaving my office. It’s another busy night at the Playground and it’s still early. At the bottom of the stairs, a handful of my men escort me outside to the waiting vehicles parked at the curb. I climb in the middle one and nod to Ivan in the rear-view mirror and we’re off.
My hand aches to open the app that will show me my angel, but there are eyes everywhere, even here in what I assume is the privacy of my car. So I fight back the urge and settle in for the ride to the warehouse district.
My biggest pet peeve is going into something blind. Before starting my undercover mission, I dived into the background of the Mikailhov family and the history of the Bratva. I wanted to be prepared for anything, and it has saved my ass more times than I can admit. As I climbed higher in the Bratva ranks, so came the suspicion and threats. There was a moment I feared my secret had been discovered when my loyalty was questioned shortly before taking the position beside Sergei. Igor tried to feed me a bullshit story to see if he could catch me in a lie. When he failed, the satisfaction I felt seeing his angry disappointment was a better high than any drug could ever provide.
When I arrive at our string of warehouses in the abandoned district, my mood has turned sour at the unknown awaiting me. It only continues when I step inside the metal building and find a bloody heap of a man tied to a chair behind Alexei.
“What’s the emergency?” I ask.
“This motherfucker was caught selling our supply to the Ukraine mob.”
“And who is this man?” It’s difficult to make out his identity through the amount of blood covering his face.
“His name is Anton.”
Fuck .
I looked into him like I promised Jacob, but nothing concerning stood out. Since he’s just a low Bratva soldier I’ve never encountered before, I’m certain that my identity remains a secret. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have secrets to share otherwise and when faced with torture, a man will say anything to save his life. Even something he swore he’d never admit out loud.
“How did you catch him?”
“The idiot was getting his cock sucked off at some club, bragging about how he sold our drugs.”
“Has he said anything?”
“Nothing useful.” Alexei throws the unconscious man an angry look. “He kept saying over and over that he did nothing and then passed out after three blows. Worthless piece of shit. If I’d known he was such a pussy before, I wouldn’t have bothered making him a soldier.”
“Who vouched for him?” I ask.
“Some guy called Igor. He passed away last year from prostate cancer.”
Well, that’s…fortunate. It leaves only Anton to deal with.
The loud bang of a metal door slamming open echoes through the room. Alexei and I turn as one to face our newest arrivals.
“What the fuck is this I hear about our drugs ending up in those filthy Ukraine hands?” Sergei demands, his face red already from anger.
“How could you let this happen, Volkov?” Igor attacks me which immediately puts me on edge and ready to fight.
“I didn’t let anything happen,” I snap back. “This is the first I’m hearing about it, too.”
“Enough you two,” Sergei orders, but I'm already done arguing with the fat fuck. Igor crosses his arms, trying to intimidate me with his stare, but he just looks constipated. “Alexei, wake our guest up so we can get to the bottom of this.”
Alexei grabs a hose and twists the faucet on full blast. A jet of water slams into Anton and the man wakes up with a shout. With his hands tied and unable to wipe the water from his face, it takes him a moment to focus. When he does, fear fills his face as his body shakes.
“Hello again, Anton,” Alexei greets the beat-up man with a pleasant tone and smile. “We have guests.”
“Alexei, please…let me go. I didn’t do anything. I swear.” He shifts his eyes across the room, snagging on each of us before settling on Sergei. “Pakhan. I didn’t do it. I would never sell drugs to the Ukraine.”
Sergei grunts and pulls a lighter and cigar from his jacket pocket. He cuts one end and lights the other, taking a long inhale before blowing the smoke out. “Is that so?”
“I promise,” Anton begs.
“You didn’t sell our drugs to the Ukraine mob?”
“No, boss.”
“You didn’t know that the drugs you sold were dirty? That the man you sold them to was arrested?”
My head snaps to attention, glancing between Sergei and Alexei. This is the first I’m hearing about this. Well, to be fair, this is the first I’m hearing about any of this. Alexei shakes his head at me. It’s news to him too.
“Wha—what?” Anton stutters.
Sergei takes a long drag of his cigar before answering. “Oh yes. And the moment he was in that interrogation room, do you know what he did? He flipped on his Ukraine buddies and then he told the fucking pigs where he got the drugs from. That they came from you. From the Russians.”
The police investigating the Bratva is annoying, but not uncommon. Our men get arrested often, but our lawyers are the best in the city. But that’s not what concerns me now. I’m not the one who instructed the idiot to sell product to the Ukrainians. It’s something I need to ask Jacob about because if Ford is giving orders to informants beneath me, without telling me, it puts the mission and my life at risk.
“Pakhan, I’m–I’m so…so sorry,” Anton sobs, his tears blending with the blood and sweat on his face. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know.”
“Who told you to sell to the Ukraines?” Igor steps in and asks.
I don’t appreciate the side glance he sends my way, like he expects Anton to blame me.
Anton drops his head and shakes it from side to side, crying and mumbling incoherently under his breath.
Alexei reaches down and grabs a handful of his hair, wrenching his head up. “Answer the question.”
“I–I–I can’t.”
"Why not?"
"They'll kill me. Please../"
“So, there is someone? Who?” Igor demands, spit flying into the man’s face. From Alexei’s curled lip, some of it landed on his hand too.
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I–I can’t.”
“Are you working with the Triads?” I ask, refusing to step closer, but my voice carries anyway.
“No. I swear,” Anton answers, his tone assertive and sure.
Ever since that idiot, Michael DiAngelo, went on a rampage late last year following his sterile diagnosis, the Triad presence has increased. So far, they’ve been more of a problem for the Irish and Italians, but it’s only a matter of time before they turn their sights on us. I’ve told Jacob about them, but either Ford doesn’t care or he's ordered Jacob not to.
“Then who?”
Our men fear each of us in our own ways, but I’m the stuff of nightmares to them. Just my presence in the room is enough to frighten them, and when I speak—when I start asking questions—I become the devil in their eyes.
Anton closes his eyes and sobs uncontrollably. Between his legs, a new stain emerges, the liquid joining the blood and water on the ground.
Alexei groans and shoves Anton’s head away from him in disgust. “Gross, fucking bastard pissed his pants.”
That’s the least of Anton’s problems right now.
“Who, Anton?”
“I was just following orders. I’m sorry…please…I’m sorry.”
“Who?”
Anton wails, thrashing against his binds until he finally collapses, his chest heaving from the exertion. He’s close to his breaking point, and I need to be careful here.
“Who?”
Finally, after a long silent pause, he admits, “The FBI.”
The room explodes with yelling and cursing in both English and Russian. I let the Mikailhov brothers have their outbursts while Alexei delivers a punch to the side of Anton’s face. Blood flies from his mouth, along with a tooth.
“You mother fucking, piece of shit, traitorous asshole!” he shouts before he punches him again, taking a few more teeth this time.
“That’s enough, Alexei.”
My words register through the red cloud that’s overtaken my second. He stalks away like an angry hurricane, swiping things off tables and kicking anything in his path.
Igor walks up with a gun in his hand. He points it at Anton’s down-turned head and is about to pull the trigger when I step in.
“Wait.” My command is enough for Igor to stop, and the look he gives me is just as murderous as his intention.
“What the fuck, Volkov? The bastard needs to die. He’s betrayed us! He’s working with the fucking FBI.”
“I know, but—”
Igor narrows his dark gaze at me. “What? Is he a friend of yours? Huh? Are you dirty too?”
“Of course not,” I growl, making sure my answer is understood before continuing. “Look, I agree with you. He needs to die, but before he does, we could get more information from him.”
“Like what?”
“Like how and why they contacted him in the first place? Why did they order him to sell our drugs to the Ukraine?”
There’s a chance I can save Anton. Being an informant is riskier than an undercover agent’s job. I have the backing of an entire organization, while they typically have one or two agents who are likely to cut contact when things get tough. But if I can get Anton out of here, I can collaborate with Jacob to fake his death and give the man a chance to escape the Bratva.
“Wait…wa…it,” Anton says, his words mumbled and gurgled from the blood in his mouth. He raises his head with a painful groan before he looks from me to Igor. “I know…something.”
Cold dread settles over me, pouring down my spine to send chills everywhere.
“What?” Igor snaps.
“I’m not…a–alone…there’s someone…else.”
Igor spins away toward his brother, cursing and spewing venomous words in Russian. I ignore them though because when Anton looks at me; I see it. There, in his eyes. He knows. His last-ditch effort, his Hail Mary. Somehow, he knows I’m the other one. Why didn't he admit it earlier? Was he promised something to keep my identity quiet? Or maybe he really doesn't know, and I'm just anxious for no reason. Either way, when faced with the prospect of death, a person will say anything to save their life.
I hate this.
I hate the position Anton’s decision just put me in.
He’s left me with no other choice.
Before he can say another word, I aim my gun at Anton, catching the flash of terror overtake him when he realizes his mistake, and squeeze the trigger.
Gabriella is sleeping when I walk through her bedroom door. It’s late or is it early in the morning now? I have no idea and don’t really care. All I can concentrate on is the angel nestled among her ridiculous number of pillows and blankets and the overwhelming need to touch her.
I strip down to my boxer briefs before sliding beneath the covers. As if she subconsciously recognizes my presence, Gabriella shifts closer to me in her sleep. She’s on her stomach, her beautiful face turned toward me. A stray strand of hair falls across her face and I lift my hand to brush it away behind her back. My fingers then shift to caress her soft yet strong body, moving down her back to trace the line of her sleeping shorts before moving back up. I stroke her naked shoulder and down her arm and then I reach for her face, running my fingertips along her defined cheekbones and brow before tracing her lips. She’s already stirring, her mind processing that she’s no longer alone in bed.
Eyes of the most beautiful hazel open slowly. She blinks several times before realization takes over.
“Dimitri?”
“Hello, angel,” I murmur before leaning forward to kiss her fully awake.
She hums against my mouth. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you. I needed to see you.”
She reaches up to grip my hand, bringing the pair close to her chest. “What time is it?”
“Late. Early. I don’t know. I don’t care.”
Gabriella hears the pain in my tone and sees the grief weighing heavy on me. “What happened?”
I can’t very well tell her I executed a man tonight to make sure my identity stayed secret. I can’t tell her how it felt, pointing my gun at a man just like me and how it felt to pull the trigger. I can’t tell her how if I’m not careful, it’ll be me next in the chair.
But I can tell her this.
“I killed a man tonight.”
She knows the life I lead. She knows the job I have. Crime is in her blood as much as it covers mine.
Still, she grows silent and stares down at our hands. Their clean now, but I wonder if she's imaging the blood of them.
“Say something, please.”
“Was he innocent?” Her voice is barely audible.
Was he? One could argue that he was on certain points.
“No more than me.”
“Was it necessary?” she continues.
I wish she would look at me, but I doubt I can meet them even if she did.
“Yes.”
“Would someone have died if you didn’t?”
“Yes.” Me.
Gabriella finally raises her eyes and where I expect to see anger and disgust, I only see understanding and compassion. “Then you did what you had to do. You had to weigh the odds and make a difficult decision. No one can blame you for doing that when the good outweighed the bad. The one to save the many, right?”
I snort softly. She enjoys her movies way too much. If only she knew the many was just as corrupt and bad as the one.
“Do you regret it?”
“No.” It’s an honest answer, which only makes me feel guilty for feeling that way. At the Academy, we’re taught that to take lives is sometimes necessary, but it’s still a difficult thing to do, to accept, and move on from. Since being in the Bratva, I’ve taken more lives than I can count. Mostly in gunfights but executions like tonight are a rare thing because usually Alexei or another captain handles the “clean-up” and I justify those deaths as sight unseen. “Does that make me a horrible man?”
Gabriella shifts closer, tangling her legs with mine. “No. It means you did the right thing. That there was no other choice. In school, we’re taught that sometimes death is necessary and kind. That to fight for a different outcome is almost cruel when the outcome is worse than death.”
“What could be worse than death?”
“Being trapped in your mind. Being unable to walk or speak. Yeah, you’re alive, but you’re not able to move on. You’re not the same person you were before. Death is a welcomed relief sometimes.”
I capture her lips, softly kissing her, my tongue slowly caressing hers into a sensual dance. She moves closer and I roll onto my back, bringing her to rest between my arm and chest. She props her face up and I can feel her concerned eyes on me.
“What do you need, Dimitri?”
Out.
Out of this life.
Out of my mind and the demons that love to torment me.
Just…out.
Free.
Free from it all.
I lower my gaze to meet hers.
I need her.
With her, I feel all of those things.
She calms my demons. She silences the noise. She eases the chaos.
“I just need you,” I tell her in a whisper.
“You have me.” Gabriella reaches up and cups my cheek before she pushes forward to kiss me firmly, like she’s trying to tattoo her words on my lips. But there’s no need for that. She’s already tattooed on my dark and tattered heart.