His Lethal Attraction (Bratva Brotherhood #5)

Chapter 1

Nika

Hydroponic tanks hiss and gurgle through the humid conservatory. Sunlight pours through the glass walls, reflecting off the thin layer of snow that dusts the mountains and heats the greenhouse even this late in November.

Roses climb trellises in disciplined rows, whites and creams on the left, pinks and yellows on the right. Centered on the floor between them, wooden benches contain tanks that overflow with greens, herbs, and produce plants.

Even in my sanctuary, everything must serve a purpose.

The familiar fragrance of earth and blooms envelops me as I focus on the tablet. A blue dot inches west across the screen, tracking the package and delivery driver.

Maxim Belov. Mad Max, Roman Kozlov’s cold, emotionless killer.

The dot isn’t a GPS tracker. He already caught on to those.

We’re pulling data from the DOT traffic cameras along I-90 between Chicago and Seattle, just a handful of miles away from my mountain sanctuary.

Max is somewhere past Spokane now, maybe as far as Ritzville, and covering ground quickly.

We forced them to wait for four long weeks while I took my time setting up secure communication and drop spots throughout Chicago and beyond.

With the hook deeply embedded, we’re reeling them in. We’re luring the Kozlovs out of their safe territory in Chicago toward the West Coast, where we hold more sway and the home court advantage.

“He’s making good time.”

Dimitri Sorokin moves soundlessly, a skill I’ve tried to emulate but never quite mastered.

He stops at my elbow and studies the blue dot on the screen.

I nod. “Roman would have teleported him here if he could have.”

Under the bright light filtering into the greenhouse, Dimitri appears younger than his thirty-five years with his brown eyes and hair, soft chin and nose, and generically handsome but forgettable face. Perfect features for what he does.

What we do.

He leans against the bench and crosses his arms. “We could have finished this a while ago, Kai.”

The nickname softens his words, but I still sense his disapproval.

Although I hate to disappoint him, I know I’ve done the right thing. “It had to be November thirtieth.”

Several seconds pass before understanding dawns on Dimitri’s features. “Lilia’s birthday.”

I lift my shears when I find a shriveled, dried leaf clinging to a rose stem. The dead greenery falls away with the slightest pressure. “Happy birthday, Mom.”

Having Roman—the man I haven’t claimed as my father in fifteen years—hand over the necklace on my murdered mother’s birthday was my idea.

That’s not just strategy. It’s poetry. Dark, cruel, knife-twisting, bone-scraping poetry.

After fifteen pain-fueled years of plotting and machinations, I’ll finally get my mother’s locket back. The one a blood-drenched Roman ripped from her throat after he killed her.

The memory assaults me without warning.

Shrieking wind over the trees. Gunfire mixed with thunder. So many ear-ringing screams. The acrid scent of smoke. My mother’s vacant eyes staring upward.

Inhaling, I lock the images in the place where I cage the screams. The home of the nine-year-old girl who found her dead mother.

She doesn’t get to surface. Not now, when I’m so close to my goal.

The shears tremble in my grip as I snip another leaf from the rose. “I need to know this will work.”

“He’ll go to Seattle as ordered, and then I’ll text him the new location.

I’ll head out now, to the rendezvous in Leavenworth.

” Dimitri repeats the plan we’ve rehearsed a dozen times.

“The coordinates I’m sending will put him at the trailhead outside town.

Remote. No witnesses. I’ll collect the locket, verify its authenticity, then bring it back here.

You stay in the house, Kai. Lock the doors. Standard protocol.”

Right. Stick to our mission. No deviations.

As I snip another leaf, a thorn catches the pad of my thumb, piercing the flesh. I hiss through my teeth. “Shit.” Blood wells up, bright against my pale skin.

Dimitri frowns at my language. “Stay sharp.”

I wipe the blood on my pants, ignoring his obvious irritation with my word choice. “I’m always sharp.”

His eyes lock on the stain that my black leggings can’t quite hide. Then he spins and marches through the French doors into the house.

The main living space spreads beyond the doorway. Minimalist gray furniture curves around a fireplace large enough to stand in. Vases speckle the room, overflowing with white and pink roses and giving the area vibrant bursts of life. The petals never wilt. I replace them too quickly for that.

Dimitri jots notes in a journal from his chair near the fireplace, then puts the notebook and his laptop in the safe behind the picture on the wall.

I painted that portrait of my mother years ago. Childlike proportions and strange color choices give the image a rough quality that’s always felt precious to me. My rendering of her dark hair and kind eyes carried me through some of the toughest days of my adolescence.

Dimitri’s footsteps fade. A moment later, his truck rumbles to life in the driveway, the sound gradually disappearing into the distance.

For the first time all day, I release a relieved sigh.

We’ve been a team ever since Dimitri saved me from Isla de Huesos. He raised me, trained me, and supported me in my quest for vengeance when he could have allowed me to drown in my grief and rage or left me on the steps of an orphanage.

He’s acted as my savior and mentor since I was nine. More recently, he’s served as my shadow, my sounding board, and my agent. Together, we’ve built every piece of our strategy, calculated every move.

But this final act doesn’t belong to him.

It’s mine.

This is my family. My vengeance.

I won’t sit idle, surrounded by roses and security systems.

Dimitri’s already headed down the mountain road toward the highway and rendezvous point, where he expects to intercept Max and the locket.

Unless I reach Max first.

My boots wait by the door, right where I left them after hauling in firewood. I slip them on and grab my jacket from the closet, then rush outside and across the gravel toward my black truck. My bag sits packed in the covered bed.

Mom, your necklace was taken from you through violence and blood. I’ll get it back the same way.