Bratva Dark Allegiance: The Complete Collection

by Raven Scott

  “I didn’t expect you to. I wouldn’t, either, but I live here, so… Like, no offence or anything, Jacob— but I’m so tired of listening to Mom talk about you and Caleb’s drama like it’s the end of the world. Caleb’s a spoiled brat. You shouldn’t have let him live with you in the first place, but you did, so you shouldn’t have given him so many chances. Aunt Jess is fucked up because she sure as Hell doesn’t want Caleb back. It’s just a reminder of how much of a failure of a mom she is that he can’t be independent or do anything to improve himself.” She’s kinda bitter today, ain’t she? Arching a brow quizzically, I frowned under furrowed brows. Emily wasn’t the kind to swear, let alone call someone else a failure so blatantly. Flopping her head back, she stared into space with an alcoholic blush staining her thin cheeks. “I don’t know. He asked me if I’d let him use the guest room. He’d pay me, not be a bother…blah…blah…blah.”

  “Is everything okay, Em?” Her baby blues met mine briefly before she nodded, closing her eyes to take a deep drag of her smoke. She flicked her wrist dismissively, her lean nose scrunching up at my probing.

  “I’m fine. I’m going to quit being a lawyer. That’s all. It’s bumming me out a little because Mom doesn’t support ripples, and quitting is definitely a ripple. She’s all about my life falling apart and all that, but I’m burnt out. I’m 30. I’ve been a lawyer for 10 years. It’s time to find something else.”

  “Ah…” Honestly, Emily had mentioned quitting at her firm, but I didn’t put any stock into it. To know she was actually going to quit was good for her, of course, and I glanced over at Joci briefly. She gingerly sat back, wincing when she rested on the chair back, but she was quick to hide it behind a puff of smoke. “Do you know what you’re gonna do next?”

  “I already have another job. I’m going to this agency— Brass Herring Solutions. They’re based in California. I start in February. Basically, they’re like a higher end staffing agency for people like you— people with degrees and experience that just can’t seem to find jobs where they’re at.” My brows rose in surprise, and Emily cocked a smirk as she reached down to produce a dark green beer bottle. She was pretty, showing her age but well, but by looking, no one would ever guess she was a beer girl. “It’s the farthest thing from law that I could find… and the farthest thing from New York City that was willing to transplant me. I’m so tired of living with Mom and Dad. Like— I love them, but Jesus Christ do they suck to live with.”

  “You’ve wanted to live in Cali since we went there on Spring Break in high school. It’s great that you actually get to go.” I really didn’t know what else to say; my sister was an adult and could do whatever she wanted. If she hated New York City, she should leave. If she hated her job, she should quit. The only one that would protest is our mom, and that didn’t carry much weight. “Mom’s just gonna have to suck it up.”

  “What about you? Mom said you paid $30,000 dollars for your girlfriend, and that she’s slow and doesn’t know what peanut butter is.” Joci snorted a laugh before I could scoff in disgust— did my mom honestly tell everyone different amounts? What did that achieve when everyone in the family could just cross-reference? That brief moment when she was believed before being figured out? Was there even a point to such a lie? “She’s just getting worse now that she’s not hyper-involved in all her kids lives. Ever since Roerich told her off for trying to pick up Paul from school and pitching a fit when she wasn’t on the list, she’s gotten real bad.”

  “Peanut butter isn’t a real popular thing in Russia, apparently. And no— I said I paid $15grand for her, but she’s moving here on business. We met at the bar by my place her first night here. Mom brought Auntie Jess over to argue with me, and when she started losing, she shifted focus to Joci to try to cover it up.” Even now, it boiled my blood as that scenario flashed in my mind’s eye, and I shook my head. “She just has nothing to do now that she’s got no kids, Em. She’s so bored she wants to meddle.”

  “You guys are great.” Slurring heavily, Joci smiled sweetly as I trained my gaze on her. “I got my mom and dad killed. That’s not okay. You’re good.”

  “I’m sure your parents would be proud of you moving to America if they were alive, Joci.” My sister shot me a confused look out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored her when Joci sniffed a little. “You okay?”

  “… No…” Glazed, brown eyes met mine from under her heavy lids, and I paused lifting my cigarette to my lips. She tinged green, lips trembling as a white ring formed around them. “I’m g-gonn—”

  “Oh, shit! Hey— hey, hey, hey—” Joci flopped to the side as I dropped my cigarette, and I gathered up her hair away from her face. She hadn’t drunk more than a few sips, and hadn’t eaten anything at all, but what spewed onto the concrete slab was still pretty impressive. Busted capsules bounced between my shoes, and I pursed my lips and held my breath. “It’s okay— you’re alright. It’s just all the Advil.”

  At least no one’s around to see it, or she’d die of embarrassment.

  31

  Jacob

  “Trust me, okay. You’re not going to be the only person that pukes tonight.” I touched Joci’s arm to point at my sister-in-law as she hastily sipped her third or fourth Twisted Tea of the afternoon. “Sandra usually heads into the bathroom about two hours in. She’ll slip upstairs for 20 minutes, come back down— do it again until Roerich hauls her drunk ass to the car and leaves.”

  “I do trust you, Jacob. I don’t want to look bad.” She wasn’t slurring anymore, and her eyes didn’t droop anymore. That was good. At least, now, I could breathe alright and not worry about her falling over or puking again. Joci had swallowed so many gels that at least one didn’t burst. “Your family is nice. Your sister— she’s good.”

  “She’s an alcoholic. Being a lawyer is very stressful. I’m not surprised she’s quitting; I’m just surprised it took so long. Emily never wanted to be a lawyer. What about you? What did you think you’d be doing for a living by 27?” Leaning against my side, she sighed a soft, wistful sigh, and I rubbed her lower back firmly. “There had to be something, even in Russia.”

  “Russia sucks. You’re born high, or you’re born a pig waiting to be hung up on a hook.” I was under the impression that Russia really sucked for everyone without a certain last name. “When I was little… I wanted to be a singer. I was good… until Anatoly ruined my voice. No one likes a singer that can’t sing.”

  “I would love if you sang for me, Joci.” My fingers crept down, and she smirked at me in that little, sexy way she did. “We’re going to leave after we eat. Should be any minute, now. My mom has been cooking all day— it’s gonna be good. How much experience do you have with American food?”

  “Not much… I’m not eating too good. I stay in the hotel, or I’m with you, and… I don’t— I don’t eat at the hotel. My boss buys food, but it always is gross.” My brows rose, concern swarming my mouth at Joci’s confession, and I reached to pull her hair back before she could hide behind it. “You’re upset— I knew you would be. I never think about it. Being… hungry…”

  “I take it you have some experience with going a few days between meals.” I couldn’t believe that fucking sentence came out of my mouth, and Joci’s smile faltered. “Really, Joci… It’s in the past, alright? You’re gonna do great here. We’ll be just fine.”

  “You’re so happy all the time. I’m long enough here to touch it.” Cupping her hands together, Joci steepled her fingers together. Reaching to cover her hands in mine, I held her fingertips to my lips to taste her. Even if she wasn’t sick as shit, she didn’t taste of sweat or tremble. “Sometimes… there’s so tiny chances, but this isn’t tiny.”

  “I wouldn’t say tiny, no.” Our banter came to an end when my mom called out that it was time to sit, and I took her hand to guide her to the kitchen. The congestion of people seating themselves was worse than 5pm traffic, and I glanced over the heads of everyone through narrowed eyes. All the kids sat at a fo
lding table pushed up against the wall, and the adults were at the dining table.

  But the kitchen was the size of a shoebox because of all the people. My brothers, their wives, my sister and my parents— almost a dozen people crowded into such a small space was claustrophobic. The table itself was too small to hold all the food, so the turkey and ham hung out on the stove. People had brought their own folding chairs, so it was a game trying to find a place to sit.

  My mom was anal about it, too. She didn’t want anyone in the living room— all eating had to be done in the kitchen. Plates got passed from the people up front to us that were too slow to beat the rush, and I grabbed two before handing them off to Roerich behind me.

  “So, how are you liking it so far, Joci?” Roerich really tried, and I appreciated that as he caught her attention. Sandra was too drunk to eat, standing behind her husband just inside the living room and staring aimlessly at a crack in the hardwood. Joci’s brows rose a little in surprise, and she nodded mutely before my brother spoke up again. “I’m glad you came. It’s always nice to see a new face. I know my wife’s really drunk right now, but I think you two would get along really well. She almost never drinks except on holidays.”

  “… It’s nice to see you, too.” I could hear it in her voice that Joci was trying to tone down her accent, and a small smile tilted my lips. “Do you have fun this time?”

  “Uh— yeah. I like seeing everybody. It’s really nice for the kids.” A loud banging on the door pulled my attention, and I left Joci and Roerich for a second to answer it. Satisfaction wrapped around my ribs at how this night was going as I glanced over my shoulder. Sure, Joci looked incredibly uncomfortable, but she managed to hold a simple conversation with my brother. That was more than I’d expected when I stupidly invited her.

  “Hey!” Carl reeked of pot, throwing himself at me as I pushed open the screen door, and I frowned. Shaking my head from the contact high, I blinked as the sharp smell burned my eyes. “I know I’m late, but I made it.”

  “Dude— how can you even stand?” His girlfriend wore a cute sundress, seemingly unaffected by the cold— probably because she was higher than a skyrise. Shuffling out of the way, I held my breath as the pair walked past me, but Carl paused to punch my chest weekly.

  “I brought my boss. His wife’s in a real bitchy mood— kicked him out.” My mouth dried in foreboding, and I glanced beyond Carl’s girlfriend as she breezed by. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when I saw the guy from the pizza place standing on the sidewalk, hands in pockets, looking entirely unapproachable. Her jerked his head, and I sucked in a sharp breath as I stepped out into the cold.

  “You’re Carl’s boss? I thought you were Joci’s boss?” My irritation shone in my voice, and I leaned on the wall to cross my arms as he plucked his cigarette from between his lips. “Who the Hell are you, then?”

  “Carl is my personal driver. Joci’s superior is a potential business partner, but— no, I don’t want anything to do with those Russian pigs.” The way he talked fucking grated me something fierce, and he held out a hand as he blew smoke out of his nose. “Carlyle Santino.”

  Reluctantly, I shook his hand, and Carlyle frowned under furrowed brows. Discomfort of my own gripped my spine in a vice, my body thrumming from tension as memories played behind my lids when I blinked.

  “I know you think poorly of me after I ambushed you, but it was a one-time deal. Aleksander Makovich surprised me when he demanded Joci stay in America. He’s not been very negotiable so far.”

  “I literally could not care less, okay? I don’t know what shady shit you’re all into, and I don’t wanna know. Joci told me enough that I know that much, at least.” As much as I wanted not to, I gestured Carlyle inside, and he flicked his cigarette into the street. “It’s Thanksgiving, but tomorrow, I’m gonna hate you again.”

  “I appreciate it, Jacob. My wife and I don’t celebrate, but she’s not very happy I’ve been in New York City so long. She basically told me not to come home.” Arching a brow at that, I glanced back as Carlyle sighed sharply. His eyes practically melted out of their sockets from thinking about his wife, and a conflict began to wage in my chest. “This deal is taking a lot out of me.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” Shutting the door, I peered around for Joci without really expecting an answer. This was not on my list of shit to expect. Throwing up— of course. That was a given. Someone falling down the stairs— totally. A kid getting bonked in the eye by an elbow— very likely… but the dude that threatened Joci and I not even a week ago showing up? Fuck no.

  Waving her over, I was suddenly really fucking glad Joci was kinda clocked out. She held both the empty, ceramic plates to her chest, her eyes warily flickering between Carlyle and I, but she did walk over. Suspicion and fear flickered in her deep, brown eyes, and I wrapped an arm around her while Carlyle held up his hands to ease her worries.

  “I promise I’m not here maliciously. I’ve actually just finished another pointless meeting with Aleksander a few hours ago. I don’t blame you for wanting to get away from him.”

  “Are you okay with this, Joci?” Nodding curtly, she flexed her fingers around the plates and shot me an uncomfortable curl of her lip. Clearly, she didn’t believe him, but she wasn’t about to make it worse by opening her mouth.

  “Do you mind if I ask you something, Joci?” Against my palm, Joci tensed, and Carlyle held her eyes as I switched to damage control. Gotta hand it to Carl to fuck up the night worse than it was. “Why do you want to live here? In America?”

  “… Because I do not want to die.” They maintained eye contact for a second, her declaration ringing in my head at the absurdity of how serious she was. How insane was it that Joci lived under the constant fear of being murdered, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it? Even moving to America wasn’t a sure thing; if she was found to be an illegal immigrant, she’d be deported back to Russia and definitely killed.

  “Let’s go eat, yeah? I don’t care what my mom says. We can sit in the living room. There’s way too many people in the kitchen right now.” Clearing my throat roughly, I guided Joci back into the line that’d formed, and I leaned to whisper in her ear. “Are you okay?”

  “Maybe.” Sorta. My lips thinned under tightly knit brows, but I didn’t try to probe deeper. We’d just have to suck it up and deal, and that was fine. It was two hours, tops, before we left, and then it’d be another year until the family got together again.

  32

  Joci

  “Oh! I’m so glad you came!” Jacob’s mom practically screeched in my ear, and my smile froze on my face when all the talking suddenly quieted around us. “I was hoping to give you this.”

  My heart stuttered when his mom popped open the refrigerator to pull something out, but the atmosphere immediately hung heavy with horror. Holding my breath, I watched in slow motion as Jacob’s mother produced what appeared to be a peanut butter sandwich on a paper plate. It was just two pieces of bread with peanut butter in between, not even cut in half.

  Against my back, Jacob tensed, and the murmurs of his family went deathly quiet as his mom replaced the plate in my hands. My turkey and green beans disappeared onto the overflowing countertops, and it took a second to realize she’d thrown it in the sink. Admittedly, I hadn’t gotten too much; I didn’t know if I would like it, but I was going to try it.

  Every eye was trained on me as I held this dinky paper plate with just a peanut butter sandwich on it. Jacob’s mom beamed at me like she hadn’t just thrown away my food. As if she thought giving me this was so great, she smiled, but her eyes glimmered with something darker. Blinking hard, I stood stupid as my brain tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

  Did she blame me for Jacob kicking Caleb out? I just happened to be there; it wasn’t like Jacob hadn’t thought about it a lot before making a decision. Was this his mom’s way of telling me that I wasn’t welcome because of a dispute that had nothing to do with me? She went around telli
ng all these lies, when I had never said a single word to her.

  “O— oh…” My voice cracked harshly, snapping through the dense atmosphere like a whip, and my chest tightened. Everything got blurry and hot, and my throat closed as Jacob’s mom stared at me with this stupid expression on her face. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe through my nose, and blood drummed furiously in my ears. “Okay.”

  “Joci—” Even Carlyle Santino looked mortified when I glanced around, ignoring Jacob’s croak. In the silence, one of the kids sneezed, and the sound rolled up my spine to bang against the sensitive part of my brain. I held the plate on one hand, whirling around to smash the sandwich in Jacob’s mom’s face as hard as I could.

  She screamed, shattering the quiet stillness as she stumbled back, peanut butter smearing on her chin and clumping her eyelashes. Clenching and releasing my jaw, I wiped bitter tears from my cheeks while Jacob jumped into action. His arms wrapped around me, half holding my back, half comforting me, but— what could I do? I couldn’t punch her. I couldn’t rear back my arm that far.

  What was her name? Oh— yes. Lisa. Gaping at me like a fish out of water, Lisa was shocked— shocked!— by the piece of bread hanging from her chin. Crumbs clung to her curly hair, and peanut butter smeared down her sternum and shirt.

  “Fuck you! You dirty fucking yanki pizda! Let me go!” Struggling against Jacob’s grip, I ground my teeth when he didn’t release me so I could punch his mom in the face— my arm be damned. Trembling with anger, I breathed fire and teared rivers of oil that ignited on my skin. Somehow, Jacob only had a grip on my shirt, and I tore myself from him with a grunt.

  The crunch of broke breaking wasn’t from Lisa’s face, and goosebumps blanketed my body when I blinked. A tiny dribble of blood seeped from her nose, but the rattling, pin needle pain that shot up my arm was almost unbearable. Watching her crumple, holding her face, I panted harshly as I spit on her wailing, shivering self.