Chapter 45
Miami
Roman
Isla, my beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, mesmerizing wife, was almost seven months pregnant, and this was our last chance to take a trip. She wanted to go somewhere warm—obviously—so when Alex called, we flew to Miami.
Isla had never been, so while she was tanning her pregnant belly on the beach, I took a seat at the beachfront café and waited for my friend.
We were closing in on twenty years of friendship. We’d met at some party when Sergei and I came to party in Miami one weekend, and while the Bratva was my lifestyle, it wasn’t fully Alex’s.
After his father passed, Alex took a huge step back. He always preferred to do things independently, anyway, and Kirill—aka The Tsar—and him had an understanding. Alex focused on his business and paid his dues to the Bratva, but he kept a low profile.
He and Andrei ran their operation and grew in size year after year, always keeping to themselves. It was always quiet on their end. No shootouts, no high-profile executions, no kidnappings.
We kept in touch here and there, but last we spoke, he was in a bit of a bind—facing real legal trouble. He’d said he was handling it, though—he had a plan, one that he was sure would work.
The hostess strolled toward me slowly, the man behind her limping and leaning on a cane. I tilted my head to get a better look and Jesus fucking Christ. Was that…Alex?!
"Brother,” he rasped and stretched out his hand. “Thanks for coming.” I shook his hand and pulled him in for a hug, unable to formulate any words. Why the fuck was he limping? He had a cane, but also, where did all his muscle go?
Alex took a seat opposite me, and I looked him over carefully. It was immediately clear that he’d been battered. The more I looked, the more evidence of repair I found. Alex kept his hair a little longer—like me—but now he sported a buzz cut, scars littering his scalp.
“An espresso, please,” he ordered his coffee, and I heard his voice again—strained and raspy.
There was a nasty scar on his chest, hiding right beneath his white shirt.
Another one was angry and recent—underneath his left eye.
Half his earlobe was missing. His chin, his lips, his cheekbones—everything was scarred.
And his nose. Alex had a long and straight nose, but now, it was noticeable—crooked here and there, as if it had been broken in a few places.
But the real shocker was the look in his eyes. Defeat. Like he’d lost so much. Like he’d lost everything. Not only his weight, no. He lost something dear to him.
He leaned on the table and asked, "I hear you're married. Is that true?"
Yes, just hearing it filled me with pride and joy. Isla was my wife. "It’s true. Last year. No big wedding. We just went to city hall."
He nodded, adding with a small smile, "I was going to say—how come I didn't get invited? Roman getting married? That's worth celebrating."
Of course, no one could believe I was married, but that's not why he called me today. I tried not to stare at the injuries on his face and launched right into it.
"What happened, Sasha? Why’re you limping? Who decorated you like that?"
He sighed and chuckled. "It’ll heal before my wedding." A widely used Russian expression that revealed nothing. I waited for the real answer, but Alex sighed again, like it was difficult for him to breathe, and swirled the black liquid in his cup.
"It's a long story, Roma." It seemed that he decided not to tell me anything. "Let’s just say that I’m here, I’m alive, I’m still healing. But I can’t wait anymore. Can you call Claudio Rodriguez for me? I need his help, but I don't know him as well as you do."
Interesting. Something catastrophic must have happened for him to not just ask for help, but to ask for Claudio's help.
"Sure. And what should I tell him?"
Alex didn’t hesitate. "I need his contact here. I need an in with the Kings. I know them, but I need them to trust me, and I don’t have time to build that connection. Next week. I need help next week.”
I nodded slowly, absorbing the information. Alex wanted help from the Latin Kings—one of the largest street gangs in the country. Maybe the world.
“I know, I know,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “I should’ve accepted Kirill’s help all those months ago, but now…now it’s too late.”
It was too late. No one could call The Tsar anymore.
“I’ll call Claudio, but can you tell me what happened?” I requested again, but instead, he quickly switched the subject.
"What's it like being married?" Alex sounded so genuine, like he was actually curious to find out.
"It's great. Once you find someone who lights up your world...."
I trailed off, noticing the way Alex nodded, the defeat in his eyes shining bright again, and it hit me. He found that woman who lit up his world. So why was he here, broken and asking for Claudio’s help?
Alex turned his head to the ocean, the light breeze such a contrast to his mangled state. "Is that her?" He jutted out his chin toward the beach where Isla was walking up to a cabana, all wet from her ocean swim.
"Yes. That's my wife." I loved saying those words. My wife.
Alex revealed nothing else, so I shot for the bullseye. "What's your girl's name?"
The silence was heavy. We sat at the table, everything calm and cheery around us, but Alex was ominous.
"Jade," he said after an incredibly long pause. "Jade…Moretti." He brought his gaze to mine, emphasizing the last name.
Moretti...Moretti sounded so familiar for some reason. Why did he add her last name like that? Moretti, Moret—
"No!" The word burst out of me once I realized. “The Attorney! The U.S. Attorney! His daughter?!”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. What the fuck was wrong with the both of us?
Alex nodded somberly and I cut off my laugh, remembering that he had no idea why I found it funny. "Maybe we're like…brothers or something,” I said, deciding that if I shared my gruesome story, maybe he’d share his too. "I mean, we do look alike."
I divulged to Alex all the details of my connection to Isla. Even after all this time, my stomach still churned at the memory of what happened between us.
"What?” he asked, astounded. “That's fucked up. And she married you after all that?"
"Yes," I chuckled, “I found her in an inferno and then it just…it all detonated.” But it wasn’t about me today. "Tell me the truth now. What happened?"
Alex's second espresso arrived and he grabbed the cup between his tattooed fingers, bringing it to his scarred lips. It was like he couldn’t utter the words. After a short sigh, he sat back and began, "We kidnapped Jade."
Okay. Unexpected start.
“And then..." He was lost for words, but I had a guess as to what he’d say next. "Then I fell in love with her."
Ah yes. Classic. But also…very unlike Alex. Alex was pragmatic. Detail-oriented, careful, smart, and had incredible foresight. But it seemed he was none of those things when it came to matters of love.
"It all…it all just fucking snowballed. I had a crazy fucking ex…she found us and then she told Jade’s psycho ex-boyfriend where she was. He took Olga—who was eight months pregnant—and wanted to trade her for Jade.”
Alex unloaded so many unpredictable details, I was barely catching up.
"That was a huge fucking mistake. Jade wanted to go back.
To keep me out of prison. To fuck up the investigation.
To get rid of the evidence." Alex was slowing down, regret permeating every word.
"I shouldn't have let her go. We should've just fucking killed Knox and taken Olga and been done with it. Fuck."
I had no idea who Knox was, but maybe that was the psycho ex-boyfriend. The silence before this was easier.
"Fuck,” he repeated, gearing up to continue his story.
"She went back. I was set up by one of my men. I was on the run. I hid out with her. I couldn't keep away from her! But…” Alex broke off, rubbing his temple and gulping slowly. “It gets hazy here, Roma, but I think I’ve remembered everything. Knox found us and…and took her.”
Remembered? Fucking Christ, he lost his memory?
“He took her and beat me to shit. I survived by pure luck. Or maybe by accident. And I've been recovering ever since. I couldn’t walk at first, but look at me now. Eyes open, standing on my own two feet again."
Holy fucking shit. That was a ton of problems for a man who always lay low and quietly worked away without raising any issues.
"Damn, Sasha. That's..." I had no words.
"Yeah." He played with his car keys, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching, pure rage spilling out of him.
"She's with him now, and she's impossible to get to.
He has her under twenty-four-hour security.
She's not allowed to go anywhere. She's not at work, and there's no one who can pass a message to her.”
Alex finally looked into my eyes, the gravity of his situation now out in the open.
“But Knox booked a reservation for a whole group of people. Next Saturday. She'll be there—she has to. If she's not there, then I'll be storming his house that night. There's no other way."
And that's why he needed Claudio.
"Where's Andrei? How come he can't help?" Where the hell was he, actually? That little neurotic bastard. But Alex's answer made me understand that things were much worse than his already abysmal situation.
"In jail."
Shit, Miami didn't fuck around.
“And your crew? You had so many guys. Where’s everyone?”
Alex sighed deeply, shaking his head. “Gone. Some went back home. Others ran away. There’s no more crew. It’s all been broken up.”
I mulled it all over as I watched perfect angel Isla put sunscreen on her soft skin. Damn, that girl was made for hot weather. She bloomed underneath the hot sun. She thrived in the sand and in the sea air. Her smile radiated—wait! I had to focus on the issue at hand.
"You want my help?" I posed the question, knowing he was about to shut me down. "No. You don't want it, but you need it. You planning to storm his house and limp around until you find her?"
Alex had nothing to answer. He may have been up on his feet, but he was in no condition to fight. He knew it too. Too proud to ask for my help, too hurt to do it by himself.
"I have a few meetings here; I'm leaving in ten days anyway," I lied. "Might be fun. We killing this Knox guy or you planning to let him go again?"
Finally, Alex smiled. At first, just a little, but then it grew, and a small laugh sounded. Damn, this guy was hurting.
"How did Andrei get into prison and you're here with me? Aren't you on some wanted list?" Poor Andrei. I’d never considered he could end up there, but I somehow got an inkling that he was busting heads while locked up.
"That's because Alexander Martinov is dead.” Alex’s smile faded quickly. “But Alejandro Martinez? There are thousands of them, and I joined their ranks this week. I have a new name and identity. Everyone thinks I'm dead."
Oh fuck. Don't tell me his girl’s been living thinking he’s dead.
“Jade too?” I asked cautiously, apprehensive of his answer.
He nodded, so resigned.
"I need to get her. It's been three months, Roma, and I can’t fucking sleep knowing she’s with him.” Alex looked up, real tears in his eyes. “I couldn’t move for so long. Couldn’t breathe by myself, but I’m better now. I’m walking and I can't wait anymore. Next Saturday. Six days."
The sun, the sea, the music in the restaurant—it was all so carefree, oblivious to the tragedy unfolding in his life. I caught sight of Isla again and put myself in his place. Shit. I'd be reeling—absolutely losing my mind if Isla and I were separated in such a way.
"Don't argue. I'm staying to help. I'll send Isla home, and she can come back another time to meet Jade. Let's kill that motherfucker."
I was angry for him. Who the fuck was this cockroach fucking up my brother's life like this?
My next few days were spent with my beautiful Isla, enjoying the sun, sand, sea, and sex.
Once she was safely back in New York, I pulled up to the address Alex had texted me: a small beach house, secluded and hidden away.
He hobbled toward the dining table—this time without a cane—sat me down, and launched straight into his plans for Saturday.
I dialed Claudio and put the phone on speaker—he picked up after the first ring. “Roman, mi amigo!” That motherfucker loved me and would do anything for me now. I gave up one of the contracts he was after, and he was inundated with cash, ready to kiss the ground I walked on.
Claudio received the rundown and agreed with no hesitation.
"Done. I'll call Jesús, he'll get in touch with you tomorrow.
Pay him for the job at the location and maybe share one of your girls with him for one night!
" He broke out into a cheery and bubbly laugh, like he was a jolly Santa year-round.
"I kid, I kid. He's been married for like fifteen years, his wife would murder him, and we'd never find the body.
" Like always, Claudio defaulted to sex jokes, but no one ever held a grudge.
Saturday night arrived and Alex picked me up at the marina. It was casual, like we were heading to dinner or something; I loved it.
"Are you nervous?" I asked, noticing the way Alex tapped away at the steering wheel. We waited in the car at the back of the restaurant, half an hour before they were set to arrive. Alex sighed heavily, momentarily turning to me before setting his gaze on the building again.
"Yes. I haven't seen her in so long. She thinks I'm dead. I don't know if she's been hurt."
“I understand. It all ends tonight, though.” I glanced at my watch—it was time. “Let's go. Jesús just arrived with his crew, and I'll wait at the bar for my reservation time. And you need to change."
With that, Alex parked the car right outside the back exit and passed me the keys before we both headed toward the kitchen entrance, about to fuck shit up.