by Warren, Rie
I blew out a rear light then hit a tire, which sent the damaged vehicle swerving into another. But the gun-crazy motherfuckers managed to make a getaway no matter how fast I ran or how accurately I shot.
The last thing I heard before the final truck screamed around a corner was the distant yell of, “That’s a message from the O’Sullivans, you fecking Russkie cunts!”
6
Jo
“HOW COULD HE JUST run out there like that? Is he insane?” I peeked up at the other brother standing over Sasha and me.
My heart knocked in my chest, vibrating with absolute terror.
Yes, I’d been in gunfights before, but nothing like this completely unexpected attack. My ears continued to ring, my palms were damp, and I flinched every time the loud report of gunfire crackled from outside.
“He knows how to handle himself.” Maksim stood like an angry god above us, barely concealed anger evident in the sharpness of his voice and the rigidity of his body.
Sasha gripped my hand in hers as we crouched side by side.
The gunshots faded off into the distance, and Maksim quickly vaulted over the bar with another warning at us to stay put.
“Has this happened before?” I asked.
Sasha—a bright young woman I’d come to know a little over the course of the night—shook wavy hair from her face. “Nyet. Not like this. No one would have the balls to attack the Bratva in their own compound out of the blue.”
“Is your father okay?”
She snorted. “He’s probably up in the office smoking a stogie.”
I doubted that very much. Everything I’d heard about Yury Zolotov made mention of the former Gulag prisoner who wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty. How else would he have built his empire?
“Do you think Kirill’s all right?”
“If he wasn’t, would you care?” she retorted.
I didn’t know exactly how to answer that. Not until Maksim walked back around the bar with broken glass crunching beneath his shoes.
He motioned us up and out from our hiding place. “All clear now.”
After the extreme commotion, the sudden quiet deafened me—glass crackling, smoke drifting. Then Arkady and Kirill walked back into the main room of the nightclub.
I took a big gulp as breath expanded my chest. I wanted to fling myself in his arms.
His eyes searched me out immediately, and I watched as the deep frown between his brows smoothed out. As if he was as relieved that I was unharmed as I was thankful to see him in one piece.
My heart climbed to my throat.
Coming straight up to me through the clusters of people and piles of debris, he cupped my shoulders gently.
He inspected me all over from head to toe, then peered intensely in my eyes. “Are you certain you’re okay?”
I was too rattled to reply, but I gave him a shaky nod.
“Good.”
Leaving me standing with Sasha, he huddled with his brothers. They talked rapidly in Russian.
“What are they saying?” I glanced at Sasha.
“Shhh.” Her nose wrinkled then her face cleared. “You’ll see in a minute.”
I simply hoped there wouldn’t be any more surprises tonight.
The soldiers began lining patrons up, trying to calm them down.
“They’re not just gonna kill them because they’re witnesses to the whole thing, are they?” Alarmed, I stared at Sasha.
She placed her hands on her hips. “Do you think we’re animals or something? I mean, I thought you’d have a better opinion of me, at least, since I leant you the hot high heels but . . .”
In the next few moments, I saw what the Krasnov brothers had planned to do with their customers, the witnesses.
Various soldiers ushered all who were unharmed to the entrance while Arkady and Maksim looked over those who’d been hurt during the shootout.
“Sasha. Come.” Maksim beckoned her with a jerk of his head, one of the soldiers toting a large medical bag into the area.
“You know first aid?” I blinked at the Russian princess all done up in her sexy red dress.
“Sometimes they actually let me be useful.”
“I can help too,” I offered.
Kirill hooked a brow in my direction then shook his head in refusal.
Something was definitely off with the man—had been ever since he’d come back from whatever errand Yury must’ve sent him on.
I knew for a fact his job description included maiming, murdering, and burying bodies where they’d never be found unless he wanted to send a message.
Maksim and Arkady aided Sasha as she quickly took care of those who’d been caught in the crossfire.
It would’ve been amusing—observing the voluptuous beauty ordering around the big, bleak-faced Russians—if not for the fact anybody could’ve been killed.
Miraculously, only a few had suffered from what appeared to be minor flesh wounds.
After Sasha attended to the casualties, I watched, intrigued, as Kirill peeled off bills from a massive roll in his pocket.
He handed the money to the walking wounded with whispered words of instruction.
The last civilians escorted from the building and the place locked down as much as possible given the damage to all the windows, soldiers melted into the background.
“Motherfucker!” Out of nowhere, Kirill slammed his fist down on a table that wobbled on its legs.
The full force of his fury turned on me, and he glared at me with blazing black eyes. “Did you know about this?”
I faltered a step backward. “What? No. What do you mean?”
“That was a message from your family, Joanna.”
“How do you know?”
He took one menacing step forward. “They weren’t very subtle when they shouted a parting this is payback from the O’Sullivans.”
I stumbled another pace, a stone lodged in my throat. “I swear I didn’t know. How could I? I’ve been under lock and key since you trapped me here.”
He barked a laugh, a raw harsh sound.
Then he upended the table he’d bashed, sending the thing sailing across the room.
Facing away from me, he dropped his head. His fists clenched.
Finally, his shoulders slumped for one single second then he pivoted back to me, and it wasn’t rage contorting his expression that time.
It was . . . concern?
Arkady, Maksim, and Sasha seemed to dissolve away like the soldiers had.
Stalking to me, Kirill grasped my upper arms in an unforgiving hold. “Don’t they know you’re in here?”
I nodded jerkily. “I don’t see how they couldn’t.”
“Then why the hell would your family put your life in danger too?” He shook me like a ragdoll.
My teeth chattered from his rough treatment as much as the shock of the night.
As if realizing he could really hurt me, he took his hands off me.
He flexed his long fingers wide.
He dipped down to stare into my eyes. “Are you worth so little to them?”
Another question I didn’t have an answer to.
What if I outlived my usefulness to the Bratva and they decided I wasn’t worth the trouble?
“Maybe I’m not the hot little commodity you thought I was,” I whispered in a ghost of a voice, suddenly cold as if someone had walked right over my grave.
“Blyad.” Kirill kept studying me.
Then he shrugged out of his jacket and slipped it over my shoulders. “You’re shivering.”
The loud clearing of a phlegmy throat drew all attention to Yury. He came from the mezzanine with Boris bounding in front of him.
Severe lines carved into the corners of his mouth, and the tats on his neck looked even more sinister.
Wrath lurked behind his deeply hooded eyes, and my shudders increased.
Kirill pushed me behind him as if to protect me from the pakhan.
“You keep your mouth shut like your life
depends on it this time,” he ordered in an undertone.
“This was unexpected.” Yury crossed his arms over his barrel-like chest. “Perhaps a mistake?”
Maksim and Arkady glanced at Kirill.
I wondered what the true pecking order was among them. Or was Kirill—the middle brother—only in charge of me because I was his charge, and this was all my fault when it came right down to it?
Even Sasha, usually outspoken as far as I could tell, held her tongue.
“Papa, it was the O’Sullivans.” Straightening his shoulders and firming his stance in front of me, Kirill laid it on the line. “I take full responsibility.”
“What do you propose we do?”
“We don’t act half as rashly as the Irish did for a start. They didn’t hurt anyone—it was all bullshit and bluster to see if we’d back down.”
Kirill’s broad shoulders filled my sight, his wooden posture making him even bigger as he stated his case. “We make a plan. Use the girl to get what we want. Them to honor the former agreement and to pay reparations.”
When he said girl, I was tempted to kick him in the goolies.
“And if they don’t want her?” Yury basically asked the same thing Kirill had of me.
Cold settled marrow deep in my bones as they discussed my value so calculatingly.
“Someone else will. She’s the printsessa no one’s really ever seen, after all.”
My heart skipped a beat to hear Kirill admit he’d trade me. For cash or guns or more turf.
“Show the girl to me.” Yury’s heavily accented voice carried all the way across the room.
“Papa—” Sasha interrupted.
“Not now.” The pakhan’s sharp tone silenced her. “Not tonight.”
Sasha sent me a look of sympathy.
Kirill yanked me in front of him then clapped his heavy forearm across my collarbone in a rough manner.
Yury crooked a finger at me.
Kirill shoved me toward him.
When the boss squinted at me, I knew what it was like to be nothing more than a slave.
All was quiet around us as he took his time surveying me wearing Kirill’s shirt I’d fashioned into a dress since he’d presumably destroyed my own clothing. In the stilettoes Sasha had given me so I didn’t have to walk around barefoot.
With Kirill’s suit jacket draped over my shoulders.
Yury’s eyes shot to Kirill after taking in my outfit. “Are you getting too attached?”
I didn’t move a single muscle when I heard the snap-crunch-snap of Kirill’s ringing footsteps over broken glass up to me.
Unblinking and unmoving, I even held my breath when the unmistakable rasp of metal against leather whispered from behind me.
Kirill’s hard hand appeared in front of my eyes, and he held his lethal knife, so much longer and sharper than my switchblade.
The tip of his blade caressed along my cheek then skipped across my lips and over my chin. He didn’t pierce skin, but the intent became wickedly clear when he hauled me into his unyielding chest with a powerful arm caged around my waist. He held the KA-BAR against my neck with just enough force to scrape my flesh.
My knees almost knocked together, but I remained immobile.
One wrong move on my part, and Kirill could slice through the major arteries in my throat.
“I’m not too attached to do what needs to be done.” His fingers moved to my ribcage where only he knew about the multicolor welts that littered my skin.
Boris growled at his master at the very worst time.
I winced, pain shooting all along my side, which made the blade bite harder against the thin skin of my neck.
A sickening smile twisted Yury’s lips, and he must’ve thought Boris had snarled at me because he reached down to pat the dog’s head.
“Now, can I keep her as long as necessary to unfuck this situation with the O’Sullivans?” Beneath the cover of his jacket, Kirill ran his fingers to my hip and squeezed me softly.
Only then did I exhale.
But one little pat—just like Yury had given the mutt—didn’t mean he wouldn’t follow through with his threats.
“Da.” After a long last look, the boss relinquished me from the imprisonment of his astute eyes.
Then he ordered, “And kill her if need be.”
“Da.” Kirill’s hands slid off me, and he pushed me aside.
I tried to hide my shaky inhale but didn’t know how successful I was at concealing my nerves.
Sidling over, Sasha sat me down in a chair.
With a roll of her eyes and a soft purr, she somehow ordered the last remaining bartender to serve us from possibly the last remaining bottle behind the bar.
He dutifully delivered two shots of tequila.
“Is this wise?” I whispered.
“Now they discuss the real business. They won’t be paying any attention to the two of us for oh”—she glanced at the screen of her phone—“a few more minutes. Plenty of time for a shot after what you just went through.”
Dutch courage, I needed plenty of that after having Kirill’s clearly favored weapon almost gashing my throat open.
Despite our guise, both Sasha and I paid attention to the low, rife words exchanged between the Krasnov brothers and the Zolotov Bratva boss.
“How did the exchange go?” Sasha’s father wasn’t through questioning Kirill and I, for one, was epically curious about what he’d been up to earlier.
He could either prove a killer or my unlikely savior.
Devil or angel.
I had a feeling I’d lain in the devil’s bed already.
“It was an ambush.” Kirill’s smooth deep voice hypnotized me. “Two men hired by Rodney.”
“Oh shit,” Sasha murmured.
“What the hell?” Arkady’s brows beetled together.
“I handled it,” Kirill asserted.
“Right,” I muttered into my tequila shot. “He just took out two or three dudes on his own.”
Sasha chuckled quietly. “Clearly you don’t know Kirill all that well yet.”
“I got the money.” Patting his pocket that bulged from something other than an erection, Kirill played it all cool like getting ambushed was just a daily occurrence. “There’s a new hit on me.”
My eyes grew bigger and bigger the more I listened.
“Za zdorovie.” Sasha downed her tequila. “Cheers.”
I couldn’t even swallow let alone drink.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Kirill as the dark blue shirt stretched across his muscled shoulders and his hands that killed moved to the back of a chair.
Hands that had touched me. Left me breathless. Had me arching for more of his caresses regardless of the fact he’d tied me up.
Or maybe because he had bound me to his bed and, in doing so, he’d scaled my defenses and centered me in the sensuality of something so far beyond my control—something decidedly delicious and wicked.
“They’re dead. If anyone cares to go looking for them, they’ll just find my usual calling card,” Kirill added to another question from Yury.
Maksim muttered something so low and growly I couldn’t understand him, but Kirill answered, “The Yakuza.”
Holy hell.
Kirill had a price on his head.
Not one but possibly many.
Japanese gangs and now my family?
He parted company with the leaders of the Bratva, prowling toward me.
I quickly threw the tequila shot down my throat, glancing at the tall gorgeous murdering man headed right my way.
“Good luck.” Sasha squeezed my hand, then she gracefully gained her feet and ambled off.
I wasn’t quite so graceful, not with Kirill collecting me with a hard hand at my elbow.
“Girl time is over,” he said.
“Okay.”
Yet he made no move to drag me back upstairs. Anger continued to vibrate just beneath the surface of his skin, and his fingers tightened on my elbow.
> The interior of the nightclub had been torn up, apparently by my kin, and Kirill took in the aftermath with a look of complete disgust.
“Are we waiting for the police?” I asked.
He snorted. “They will not come.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
Glancing down at me from his superior height, he sucked in his cheeks. “They’re used to having their palms greased by the Bratva. They know better than to overstep boundaries.”
“But what about all the people who saw everything?”
“The people who frequent The Sickle aren’t the type to snitch.”
He moved away to straighten the table he’d flung aside earlier.
I trotted right after him. “Is it safe to stay here tonight?”
His eyes had never looked blacker than when he narrowed them on me beneath one imperious brow. “You tell me.”
I recoiled from the implication that I had anything to do with any of this. “I wouldn’t know.”
Blowing out a long ragged breath, he sat on the edge of the table. “Soldiers will be standing guard through the remainder of the night. Like always. We’ll be fine.”
I wondered if that were true when I saw Sasha, Maksim, and Yury depart moments later. “Where are they going then?”
I watched through the broken windows as Maksim handed Sasha into a shiny black SUV before climbing in with her. My one and only friend and potential confidant zoomed off into the night, the vehicle closely tailed by another to escort them away.
“Do you always have to talk so fucking much?” Kirill drew my attention back to him.
“I talk a lot when I’m upset or nervous.” Or, you know, when my life is in danger because of a man I barely know.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Sasha and Yury don’t live here. Maksim usually goes where Sasha is to keep her in line.”
I didn’t ask about Arkady when I saw him leading Boris into the hallway that went to the elevator.
Arkady and Sasha hadn’t seemed so bad, but I still had my doubts about Kirill, especially after he’d pulled his knife on me with seeming cold disinterest.
I began to fret even more when he ushered me away from the passage his brother had just taken. On the other side of the bar—picking our way through the shards of shattered bottles, mirrors, and glasses—Kirill opened a hidden door with a press of one fingertip.