Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
A nger ripples through me like the beginning of a tidal wave; I can’t prevent the wash of emotions that begin to drown me as I stare at the door that Milo just left through. Rage . Debilitating Fury . Fucking embarrassment .
The last one, because Milo just took a piece of me with him.
I drag my hands through my hair, sliding onto the floor in a bid to steady my frantic heartbeat. I knew Milo was bad for me. He’s the goddamn enemy, after all, but a part of me might have hoped that there was no hidden agenda when I caught him here tonight.
Fuck, was I wrong.
Tugging a smoke from my pack on the bedside table, I light it up and sit with my thoughts. The fact he just asked me a goddamn favor, right after we fucked, stings like a bitch. After the initial slice, though, realization has set in and now I’m enraged. My hands shake as I take a drag, inhaling the toxic chemicals as I try to calm down. It’s no use, though. Milo already gets under my skin, and this was just another, more devious, attempt at doing just that.
I bring my knees to my chest and rest my elbows on top, sucking hard on my cigarette until ash drops into my lap. Fuck, I don’t even give a shit about the mess right now. Heat curls around my neck, and I know there’s no way I can calm down just sitting here. I need something more than nicotine to take the edge off.
It’s late, moonlight filtering in through my windows, but that doesn’t deter me from putting on some running shorts and a hoodie, grabbing my sneakers from the wardrobe and stepping out into the cold night air. Sometimes it’s the dark that helps me clear my head. There’s just something so peaceful about the emptiness.
With my breath puffing out in front of me, I start a pace that has me comfortably running through the streets of my neighborhood. My feet pound the pavement, my heartbeat matching the thud that reverberates from my soles upwards. ‘Rip Your Heart Out’ by Hopsin plays in my EarPods as the skies open up, rain drenching my clothes and skin. It’s a soothing welcome to the erratic thoughts and unsteady emotions sprinting through me right now, because I can’t decide what I’m more angry about. Am I pissed that I fucked Milo? Not one bit. Am I annoyed that I fucked the enemy? Sure. Am I disappointed in myself for thinking Milo didn’t have ulterior motives? Bingo.
My jaw clenches as I pick up speed, disgust slithering through me. I wish I could let this shit slide— that’s usually what I do best— but I can’t. For some reason, this is different. This is different.
I halt at the end of the street, leaning forward to rest my hands on my knees as I catch my breath. Fuck Milo for making me feel like this. Fuck Milo for making me feel . It’s the one thing I can’t afford to do, and he’s done it in one swipe, knocking down my fucking walls like they were nothing.
My phone rings through my EarPods, Haldon’s name being announced before I click ‘answer’ on my phone. “Yeah?” I pant.
“Got you at a bad time?” he chuckles.
“Just out for a run,” I bite back. “Why?”
“Bit late for a run,” he remarks.
Turning on my heel, I head back the way I came. I can tell that whatever my best friend is calling for, it’s not to discuss my running schedule— so I walk back to my apartment, done with my attempt to distract myself. It wasn’t working anyway.
“What is it?” I huff, swiping away the rain that has mixed with my sweat over my face.
“We had a missing delivery,” he tells me. I can hear the irritation in his voice, though he does well to tamper it down.
I take a deep breath, exhaling into the dark, wet night. “What do you mean?”
“The Russians,” he growls. “They didn’t deliver the liquor supply. You think this is a message?”
“I don’t know, man. I doubt they’re reacting so soon. We told them we’d give them an answer when we’re ready.”
“Yeah? Well, I think they’re getting impatient.”
I roll my eyes at that because the Russians aren’t known for their patience. Still, we won’t be bullied into giving them an answer. Not yet, anyway . Roman has been tasked with speaking to his uncle to find a mole, since he knows everything that goes on.
Cillian is the kind of guy you don’t see coming, partly because he’s so damn suspicious that it has the opposite effect. I don’t know how the guy does it. He walks around, looking like a complete thug, yet gets shit done a lot quicker and more efficiently than most of my men.
“Just hold off on jumping to conclusions,” I placate. “Roman’s seeing if we can get some intel from the inside.”
“And if he can’t?” Haldon questions.
“Then we make a new plan,” I supply.
There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone, where I suspect Haldon is calculating how long he can go before he blows up. He’s usually able to keep calm, so I can safely assume it’ll be at least another week before he’s testing his restraint. The guy seriously needs to get laid—though I know that isn’t a problem for him—because he sounds like he’s hanging on by a thread. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re in charge of a legacy. Like all of us, we have our family names to protect; to maintain our power in the city. If we lose that, I don’t think either of us would be able to look our fathers in the eye.
“Can you reach out to old suppliers?” I suggest.
Haldon’s dad burnt a few bridges when he initially took on the Russians’ offer. Back then, I don’t think he considered the repercussions down the line, but then again, maybe they were just na?ve. Maybe they didn’t think that the Russians would be demanding more from us, using what little hold they have to twist our arms.
No . Somehow, I think The Five knew this would happen sooner or later. Maybe that’s why my dad was so quick for a solution. He’s certain that there’s a mole to be found, someone who can help us. But I’m still on the fence.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Haldon huffs. “But Vee?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t like where this is going.”
He hangs up before I can respond, which I’m glad about because I don’t really want to voice my own reservations about this plan. I don’t think I like it either.
* * *
“W hat the fuck do you mean?” I bellow at Roscoe, a soldier of mine who always ends up taking the brunt of my wrath.
“It’s gone,” he answers simply.
“I can fucking see that! What I want to know is how the fuck you guys let this happen?” I glare at Roscoe, then at the men standing sheepishly behind him. One of them is to blame for this, I just don’t know which. Security tapes have been wiped, so there’s no chance of finding out who was here to sabotage my shipment. It could’ve been anyone, and I hate where my thoughts take me.
These men have been loyal to me for the last two years. Eight came through the ranks from under my dad’s reign, but Roscoe, he’s the guy I appointed to oversee and prevent this shit from happening in the first place.
I grew up with Roscoe, just like I did with Haldon and Roman. Only he doesn’t come from our world—he comes from a broken home and a fucked up father that would rather beat the daylights out of his own flesh and blood than teach him how to be a man.
Thankfully, my Uncle Trigger took him in, taught him what he needed to know to succeed in this life, and he has. He’s been by my side for a long time, and his loyalty has never been in question because I know how much he values our friendship. Until now.
“Vee,” he whispers, stepping towards me. “It’s my fault.”
I see the glint in his eyes and the way they flicker with deceit. I’ve seen it enough times to know when he’s lying, and right now, he’s protecting the men standing behind him. Whether he’s testing me or not, he knows I’d never kill him, but this does mean I have to show that this shit can’t slide.
Narrowing my eyes on him, he nods back and understanding flows between us. “You’re on clean up,” I bark.
He accepts his orders, turning on his heel and walking away with my men in tow. He’ll be cleaning up the Bonanno mess around the city until I see fit. Which will probably be in a day, since I hate doing that shit to him. But I need to set an example and he knows it. I can’t be seen slacking now that I’m in charge, and if my dad was here, I know that there would be a worse punishment.
I turn on my heel, staring back at the empty container sitting at the end of the docks. Lighting up a cigarette, I consider my options. This definitely puts a dent in my plans. I’ve got contracts to fill and nothing to offer, which wouldn’t be an issue if I could get another shipment in. But after tonight, I’m not sure who I can trust.
I suck on my cigarette, letting the cherry heat up my face as I stare off into the distance. Since the security cameras have been wiped, I have nothing to go off but the word of my men and?—
Something catches my eye, so subtle that I’d have missed it if I didn’t already feel the insane feeling of another presence. Not just any. A familiar one. One that I haven’t felt in days.
A growl rumbles through my chest, my teeth clenched as I push my feet forward, toward the open door of the container. The shadows cover the majority of the metal box, but the floodlight that beams over a far corner of the docks spreads out just enough to highlight the traitorous figure stepping out from behind the door.
“You!” I snarl, dropping my cigarette to the ground as I lunge for Milo. My hand grips his jacket, slamming him against the side of the container as my anger and irritation take over. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
A deep chuckle escapes him, his dark eyes sharp and locked on me. I haven’t seen him for three days, since the night I kicked him out. His presence conjures up all the feelings I felt before and after he left, and this moment right here is a stark reminder of why I shouldn’t be anywhere near him.
“I’m disappointed,” he mocks. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
I know he’s only taunting me, but the words slip out anyway. “You thought wrong, Kyrovsky.”
“See?” He smirks before turning his lips down, feigning distress. “Disappointed.”
Shoving him away, I glare back at him. “You haven’t answered my question. What’re you doing here?” I point to the empty container. “Has this got something to do with you?”
He steps forward, and I counter backwards. I need to create as much space between us as possible, because being in his proximity is too much, and I don’t mean in a bad way. A part of me revels in losing myself in Milo. I’ve had a taste, and now I want more.
Now that I’ve had time to re-evaluate what happened the other night, I can’t find it in me to feel the guilt that I know I should. Milo is a good fuck. Compliant, yet defiant. A complete contrast with every inhale and exhale, and I enjoy suffocating in him because for just a moment, I forget who I’m supposed to be. I forget about the legacy I have to follow, my family obligations and the businesses I have to control. For just a moment, I can be myself.
Beyond the obvious line we’re crossing, I was able to relax. I could breathe. There was no back and forth between us the other night, just two people sharing pillow talk.
Until he fucked it all up.
My scowl deepens, and it’s enough for Milo to shake his head. “It wasn’t me,” he answers. “But it was the Federovs.”
That gets my back up even more, my hand already reaching for my gun. “So it was you.”
“Not directly. No.” He raises his hands as I point the gun at him—odd, because he’s never shied from the other end of my barrel before. Something’s wrong.
Tilting my head, I survey him carefully. Nothing stands out to me, though. “Answer me, Milo. Why are you here?”
He slowly lowers his hands, and I follow, lowering my gun. It’s still pointed at him because I won’t hesitate if he tries to pull a fast one, but something in his eyes tells me he’s not here to harm me in any way.
“I knew what was going on,” he sighs.
And there it is. The guilt. The torment. The internal turmoil between loyalty to the Bratva and… me. I want to ask why he didn’t tell me, but deep down I know the answer. We’re nothing but enemies to one another, even though we fucked. That’s all it was.
I should really kill him for this. For being here. But my finger hovers over the safety catch, debating what to do. It’s a split second too long, because Milo lunges forward, gripping me by the back of my neck and slamming his lips onto mine. His mouth opens as his tongue seeks mine, licking the rim of my bottom lip.
Heat races through my body as he deepens the kiss. I push forward, backing him up until his back slams against the metal wall of the container. The sound echoes around us, pulling me out of the trance Milo had me in.
“We can’t keep doing this,” I tell him. As painful as it is to say, it’s the truth. We can’t tiptoe the line that separates our loyalties. Sooner or later, one of us is going to get burned, or worse. I have a duty to keep myself safe just as much as he does. Giving into temptation is the only thing that’ll be our undoing, because war between us and Russians, I can handle. It’s the rest I’m not so sure about.
“I know,” Milo finally agrees, though it’s quiet and raspy. He lifts his head to the sky, eyes focused on whatever is above us— not a lot, considering we’re in the midst of a polluted city. “I wanted to talk to you about the other night.”
“What about it?” I ask, stepping back to create some much-needed distance between us.
“It isn’t what you think,” he sighs. “I wasn’t sleeping with you to get something in return.”
I shift uncomfortably on the spot, shifting my gaze to the water lapping at the sides of the docks. I don’t think I’m ready for the real reason. “Elaborate.”
“There’s a reason I asked you for that favor, Vee.”
I snap my head back to him. The familiarity in his tone, the use of a nickname he has no right in using, sets me on edge. Not because I hate it, but because I like it too much. “And what’s the reason?”
He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I wish I could tell you.”
Even though I can see the sincerity in his eyes, there’s something off about the vagueness in his words. Frowning, I realize my hand is still gripping my gun tightly. It’d only take one second to raise it and pull the trigger, ending this back and forth that we have going on. But I know I can’t do it. Hours and hours of talking myself into it, and I know I could still never kill Milo. Enemy or not, he’s fucked up something inside me.
“You shouldn’t have bothered coming here,” I growl. “You look guilty as fuck, and if I wasn’t alone, you’d already be dead.”
He chooses this moment to step closer. His aftershave lingers in the air, circulating, enveloping. A mix of cedar and bergamot, fresh and deep, just like the sea. When I stare in his dark orbs, it’s almost like I’m seeing the ocean; an endless abyss that encapsulates him entirely.
Milo licks his lips, and my gaze tracks the movement before those delicious lips tip into a smirk. “Then it’s a good thing you’re alone.”
“Go,” I command as he steps a few inches closer. My words stop him in his tracks and I close my eyes, silently hoping he listens—because I’m about ten seconds away from going against my better judgement, and I really don’t want a repeat of the other night.
Lies.
I hear Milo exhale loudly, his proximity closing in. My grip tightens around my gun, and just when I expect him to do the exact opposite, he turns away. I open my eyes, latching onto his disappearing figure.
After a few beats of isolating silence, I let out a breath and tuck my gun back in my pocket. Groaning, I readjust my dick that has decided now is the best time to get hard. I need a serious word with the fucker, because this has to stop happening. I can’t be around Milo anymore. I can’t be involved with him in any capacity. I’m leading with my dick and not my head, and it’s only going to cause death and destruction because that’s what this attraction is. A toxic void of emotion that neither one of us wants to escape.
And this is just the start.