Chapter 12
Alessandro
The four of us slide into a tufted leather booth at the Viper Room, a cigar club located above Fiorella’s, an Italian restaurant—both owned by Zerilli.
It’s about what I expected. Luxury in caramel and chocolate tones, black paneled walls, dim lamps, a long bar with red lighting, and a huge Tuscan stone fireplace.
The chilled air holds a mix of fragrant cigar smoke, expensive whiskey and money. A jazz band plays in the corner.
Caelian has already put their camera feed on a loop, so Zerilli will never know we were here tonight. Can’t tip him off to our suspicions.
The waitress brings our crystal tumblers of bourbon and then shows us the cigars on offer. Rocco and Caelian both choose one, rolling it between their fingers and sniffing it, while I assess the waitress—blonde, early-thirties, curvy.
“Let me know if I can get y’all anything else.” She winks and sways her hips as she walks away.
“That southern accent and thick ass says not Russian,” Rocco says as he digs his Zippo lighter out of his pocket.
I nod, take a mouthful of the bourbon, hold the sweet burn against my tongue and then swallow. We chat and drink. Rocco and Caelian smoke their cigars. It looks like a casual night out, but we’re keeping an eye on the women wandering around the room.
The rumor is Zerilli has Russian women working for him in his clubs. If true, where are these women coming from? Are they part of the Bratva trafficking ring? Forced to work here? Is that the payoff for Zerilli letting them operate in Tampa?
We’ve been here for two hours with no luck.
The patrons are getting drunker, the laughter louder, the dance floor filling up with people who have no fucking business dancing in public.
I’m just about to call it a night when I spot a group of five tall, thin women in slinky dresses walk through the door.
They immediately split up, two going to the bar.
“What do we have here?” I say.
My brothers turn and eye the women.
“That looks promising,” Caelian answers.
We watch as they start up conversations with the most well-dressed men in the room. They smile, touch, flirt, enchant. It’s an art form. If they are victims of the Bratva, it’s one they’ve learned to survive.
“Care for company?”
We all look up at the petite blonde woman standing at our table. Her accent is thick. Russian.
Bingo.
“Sure, Doll.” Caelian slides out of the booth and motions for her to have a seat between him and Gunnar.
We do introductions, and she says her name is Brenda. We share a silent glance.
I watch as she performs her act with us. Her painted-red mouth is smiling, but her blue eyes are full of fear. There’s a smear of thick makeup on her neck that’s not quite covering up a bruise, and her hands are trembling. She would be easy to break.
I move my attention to one of the women at the bar. What’s the game here? Are they going home with these men? Maybe drugging them and robbing them?
That’s pretty messy. I can’t imagine Zerilli could keep that quiet. Even with Police Chief Knowles on our payroll. There’s some heavy hitters here with the kind of money that comes with influence.
I lean into Rocco. “We take her with us.”
He nods. Then stands and buttons his suit jacket. “Care to dance?” He gives the Russian woman his most charming smile.
Apparently going home with men, drugging and robbing them is not what they do. Brenda, or whatever her real name is, panics when we invite her to go hit another club with us. Rocco has to stick his gun in her ribs to force her out the door.
She’s silent on the drive to the warehouse, only a small sniffle once in a while. She’s trying so hard to be brave. Or maybe she’s just resigned to whatever fate is throwing at her now.
We have her legs bound, but she’s in a chair clutching a bottled water we’ve given her. I have no desire to inflict anything but fear on this woman for information. If she is a trafficking victim, she’s been through enough. But to stop this, she has to talk.
She keeps flicking nervous glances at the blood-stained board on the back wall. I’m glad we brought her here. It’s a good threat without having to lay a finger on her.
I’m sitting in a chair across from her, my slacks almost touching her bare knees. Gunnar is standing behind me, videoing the conversation with his phone in case she gives us anything to hang Zerilli.
Caelian and Rocco are standing in front of the door. Rocco’s having a smoke, the consistent clicking of his Zippo like a metronome in the room.
“What’s your real name?” I ask.
She lowers her head, refusing to make eye contact with me. I lean forward and grab her jaw gently, forcing her to meet my gaze. There’s something vacant and dull in her eyes, like she’s checked out of her body.
“Let me tell you why you’re here. We believe you’re a Bratva trafficking victim. Forced to work for Zerilli. Is that true?”
Something sparks in her eyes and she blinks. “You are not Zerilli’s men?”
I release her jaw and lean back in the chair. “No.”
She glances over my shoulder at the other guys. “I don’t understand.”
“Zerilli’s not the only game in town. And there are much bigger fish than him who don’t approve of the Russians trafficking women in our territory. If he’s involved, we need to know.”
She licks her dry lips and shakes her head. “I can’t.”
I stand, remove my jacket and place it over her shoulders. As I pull the front closed around her, I lean down and hold her gaze. “We can protect you.”
I don’t know why I say this. It wasn’t the plan. I’m not even sure if I said it just to get her to talk, or if I actually want to protect her. Either way, I need her to trust me.
As I move back to my chair, Gunnar shoots me a questioning look over his phone.
I know this is out of character for me. I ignore him and sit.
She squirms and pulls the jacket tighter around her shoulders. There’s a calculation behind her stare now. “I don’t care about myself. Death would be welcomed. But my little sister, Alina. She’s still in Russia. They say if I try to escape, they will bring her here to replace me.”
I give her a sympathetic shrug. “I understand. But you have to know they will do that anyway, right?”
Horror fills her blue eyes.
I chuckle but it’s not out of amusement. “These kind of men don’t tend to keep their word. The only way to stop them is by helping worse men than them. Men like us.” I gesture to my brothers behind me. “So, help us stop them.”
Defeat has her sinking back in the chair. She nods once.
Keeping my tone soft but firm I say, “Good. Now what’s your real name?”
She looks so small and lost wrapped in my jacket. Her eyes are moving over my face. Probably trying to figure out if I’m going to kill her after I get what I want from her. For some reason, whatever she sees has her deciding to trust me. “Yulia. Yulia Lopatina.”
I reward her with a smile. “Okay, Yulia. Let’s start with some basic information. You were brought here by the Bratva, yes? How long have you been in Tampa?”
“Yes. I’ve been here for almost one year.”
“And what are you girls doing in Zerilli’s club?”
She suddenly looks exhausted. “We are just to get them drunk. In compromising positions so Zerilli’s men can take photos, run up their credit cards with bogus charges. They will be too ashamed to do anything about it. It’s honestly better. Better than the Bratva whorehouses.”
I nod. That makes sense. And now I have my proof that Zerilli is in bed with the Bratva. Stupid motherfucker. I eye the woman in front of me.
Now what to do with her?
I check my watch. “You’ve been gone forty-five minutes, Yulia. Do you think anyone has noticed?”
The pulse point on her neck thumps faster as panic grips her. “There are many cameras.”
“We took care of those.”
“Oh. No. Maybe one of the girls. But they would never ask questions.”
I stand and motion for Gunnar to cut the bindings on her legs.
“All right. We’re going to take you back to keep your little sister safe for now.
” I walk over to a drawer in the table and grab a prepaid cell phone, add one of my phone numbers.
I take my jacket back from her and hand her the phone.
“My name’s Sandro. My number is in there.
We’re going to be working on shutting down the Bratva trafficking operation and Zerilli’s part in it.
But you call me if there’s any trouble. If you don’t feel safe. We’ll come get you out. Got it?”
Her eyes have a sheen of tears, but she doesn’t let them fall. “Thank you.”