Chapter 33
PAVEL
W e had an unseen enemy.
That much was certain.
Someone had been lurking in the shadows and stalking our organization for some time now.
But they fucked up…big.
They made the mistake of going after my wife.
For that, they would die. Painfully.
One thing was clear, Los Infideles had a new, very well-funded leader, with intimate knowledge of our business.
A war was coming.
Usually the prospect of blood and violence would set my pulse racing.
Although I didn't seek it out, I didn't exactly shy away from violence. In my world, it was a necessary tool of business. Every now and then you needed to remind both your enemies and your allies why you were to be feared, and your authority never questioned.
This would give us the opportunity to reassert the dominance of the Ivanov bratva. Especially with my brothers now in the country to reinforce Gregor, Damien and Mikhail's already extensive and influential syndicate.
A new era for the Ivanovs was coming.
And yet…all I could think about…all I wanted to do… was get back to Alina.
The last thing I wanted to do this morning was leave my bed. I could have stayed there forever, just savoring her warmth cuddled up against my body while the soft cadence of her breathing surrounded me.
It had been a few weeks since those fake cops had tried to use her to get to me.
The bruise on her cheek had faded but the memory of the traumatizing event hadn't.
It still was a battle within me to leave her side each day.
Never again would I allow her to be put in danger.
Hopefully the message of that pussy “detective's” badly mutilated body found in a ditch right outside the precinct had sent a very clear message.
Don't. Fuck. With. Us.
It would only be a matter of time before we learned the hidden leader's identity.
Then we would strike.
Gregor had reluctantly agreed to bring in Roman for just that reason.
I'd gone with him and Damien to inspect the new dock warehouses we had purchased to receive arms under the radar.
We were headed back to the city and I was already anticipating all the decadent things I had planned for my new wife when I spotted a JoAnn Fabrics coming up on the right.
I leaned forward from the back seat and tapped Damien, who was driving, on the shoulder. "Do me a favor and pull in there."
Damien raised an eyebrow as he realized where I was pointing. "Are you serious?"
"Just do it."
Gregor turned to stare at me from the passenger seat. "I'm sorry, are we cutting into your craft time?"
I threw off my seat belt as our Range Rover pulled into the parking lot. "Fuck off."
Alina and I were visiting her grandmother at the end of the week, and I wanted to bring her some yarn and a few other supplies. Her grandmother was a sweet woman. Neither of them deserved the bullshit her father put them through.
I was more than happy to be the one to step in and spoil them both rotten.
Like my brothers, my life had a new focus beyond blood and money.
And it felt good.
A rush of cool air hit us as the metal doors slid open.
The store was brightly lit with an aggressive number of fake flowers at the entrance.
All eyes turned to stare as three towering, tattooed Russians invaded the pastel paradise of suburban crafting.
Several women grabbed their young children and pulled them out of our path as we walked deeper into the store.
After passing wedding favors, fabrics, and something that looked like an entire aisle dedicated to something called scrapbooking, I found the yarn.
Damien shook his head. "Fuck. Who knew there were so many colors of fucking yarn."
I smacked his chest and gestured to the horrified women scurrying out of the aisle. "Watch your fucking language around the women. Have some respect."
Gregor picked up a bundle of pink yarn. "What is this for?"
I placed my hands on my hips as I surveyed the yarn options. "Alina's grandmother."
He smirked. "No, I figured that. What is she making—a scarf, a hat, a sweater?"
I gestured with my hands. "What are those blankets with all the squares?"
Damien chimed in. "Afghan."
I pointed to him. "Yes! Afghan. She's making an afghan for one of the nurses who takes care of her."
Selecting an eye-catching teal yarn, I held it up for their inspection. "What do you think about this one?"
Gregor shook his head. "That's acrylic."
My brow furrowed as I looked at the yarn in my hand and back at him. "So?"
"You only use acrylic for the baby shit." He gestured to the store manager who was hovering at the end of the aisle staring at us. "Back me up on this."
The woman's eyes widened as her mouth dropped open. After trying to form a response, she shook her head and ran off.
Gregor frowned. "Trust me. I'm right."
Damien nodded. "He is. You want to use the good stuff," he offered as he picked up a soft gray yarn. "This is wool. It's better."
I snatched the yarn from his hand and stared at the lion on the label. "How do you two know so much about this?"
Gregor shrugged, his massive frame dwarfing the display. "I'm a dad. You learn this shit fast."
Damien pointed to his chest. "When you're married to a designer you learn to pay attention to this crap if you want to get laid."
I nodded sagely as I grabbed a few yarn packages. "How many do you think we need?"
Damien held up his cellphone. "We could call Boris in Chicago. He knits."
"Oh, good idea."
Gregor shook his head. "Just get them all. She can always make matching armchair covers with anything leftover."
Damien intervened. "Wait. You can't just get all gray."
"Why not?"
"The blanket will be boring if it's all one color."
I tapped my temple then pointed at him. "Good point. The scarf Alina is knitting for me has at least four colors."
Gregor gave me a knowing look.
I raised an eyebrow. "What?"
He lifted one shoulder. "Nothing. I just remember a couple of cocky assholes arriving in America a few months ago spewing bullshit about how me and my crew had gotten soft and lost our edge and now…" He swept his arms wide. "We're in a fucking JoAnn Fabrics."
He wasn't wrong .
It was startling how dramatically my brothers’ and my lives had been changed since arriving in America. It was hard to believe that all three of us were happily married to three amazingly beautiful, intelligent, and strong women.
Gregor had every right to take every derogatory thing we'd said about his domestic bliss and shove it right up our asses.
But that didn't mean I had to admit it to him.
I flipped him the bird. "You don't need to tell me you all were a terrible influence."
He slapped me on the shoulder. "You're welcome."
Damien held up one of the gray skeins against a pale purple yarn. "What do you think of the heather gray with the lavender?"
I nodded. "I think that works. How much do we need?"
"How big is the blanket?"
"Don't know."
"We should just buy it all just in case."
"Good idea," I said as I turned to search for a cart.
Walking to the end of the aisle I spied an empty cart next to a woman looking at wooden birdhouses. "Are you using this?"
The woman backed away as she stammered while hugging her purse to her chest. "Um…n-no…take it."
Ignoring her reaction, I smiled. "Thank you."
Rolling the metal cart back to the yarn aisle, we piled all the available gray and purple yarn into it.
As we headed back toward the cashiers, we passed the paint aisle.
Gregor turned. "Is that buy one get one free on canvases? I should get a few for Samara. "
Damien pointed to a few aisles down. "While you're doing that, I'm going to grab Yelena some sketch pads and pencils, she mentioned at breakfast she was running low."
As Gregor headed down the paint canvas aisle, he tossed over his shoulder, "We should call Mikhail and ask if Nadia needs anything."
I pulled out my cellphone. "On it."
An hour later, we rolled three cartloads up to the cashier. As the employee checked us out, another woman in line cleared her throat.
We all turned.
She blinked and backed up a step. After visibly swallowing, she pointed at our cart. "That is a chunky yarn. You'll…you'll want to make sure you have 7 or 8mm needles for it. The regular ones will be too small."
We all exchanged a look.
I shrugged. "I have no idea what needles she has."
The older woman pointed over her shoulder. "I could help you pick some out."
After giving her a wink, I stretched my arm out. "Lead the way."
With bright red cheeks, the woman giggled as she led me back to the yarn aisle. As we walked more women joined us.
"Does she have a pattern? I can select a few that I've done and liked."
“You only have two colors, three really would be better.”
“I’d recommend at least one crochet hook just in case.”
It was amusing to be surrounded by so many women who under any other circumstance would have crossed the street at my approach…and with good reason. “That would be very helpful, thank you."
An employee whose head barely reached Damien's elbow piped up. "I noticed you only have two sketchbooks in your cart. They were buy two get one free."
"No kidding? Thanks!" He headed off back down the aisle to get another notebook.
After some time and a whole gaggle of women to help, we returned to the cashier.
After ringing up all our items, the cashier asked, "Do you have any coupons?"
My brow furrowed. "Coupons?"
Half the women around us reached into their purses, pulled out their coupons and waved them in our direction.
"Take mine."
"No take mine."
"I have a twenty percent off your whole order discount!"
"You can use my employee discount."
We exchanged an amused look between us.
After years in the shadows, being mothered by craft store ladies while buying yarn to make my girl happy wasn't the worst way to spend an afternoon. Domestic bliss had its perks.