Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2)

by Nicole Fox

  And I hadn’t known how to fix him. I tried my best to figure it out, but before I could, I lost him.

  “I haven’t had anyone to rely on since Cesar’s death,” I admit, keeping my hand on Phoenix and patting him gently every now and again. It’s almost time for his next feeding.

  “Your papa protected you,” Tamara points out.

  “No,” I reply, shaking my head. “Papa protected himself and his business. I was only ever a commodity to be sold and bartered when it suited him. Not a person. Just another Moreno cartel asset.”

  “Is it strange for you now that he’s gone?” Tamara asks.

  “Sometimes,” I say. “But it’s a good kind of strange.”

  She smiles. “I figured as much.”

  “I was alone for a very long time. I got too good at it. But then…”

  “Artem came along,” Tamara finishes.

  “Artem came along,” I echo. “And it was the saving grace of my life, although I didn’t know it at the time.”

  Phoenix lets out a long, annoyed cry and I know it’s time to feed him. So I take him out of the baby carrier and hold him to my chest before I get my cover-up.

  I drape it over my shoulders and make sure it’s secure before I feed him underneath it.

  “Does it hurt?” Tamara asks once I’m settled into place.

  “Breastfeeding? It was a little uncomfortable at first,” I admit. “But I got used to it.”

  “You think you’ll have more?” she asks.

  “I really haven’t thought about it,” I answer honestly. “I mean, I’m still getting used to having this one. But… maybe one day, in the future.”

  Tamara shakes her head, looking at me with something close to awe. “I’m glad I got to see you like this, Esme,” she says in a hushed tone. “It makes me feel like it’s possible for me to find my happy ending, too.”

  “You’ll definitely find your happy ending, Tamara,” I tell her. “And I want that for you.”

  “Do you mean that?” Tamara asks. “After everything I put you through?”

  I nod. It’s the truth. A hard truth, a thorny truth—but a truth nonetheless.

  “You were put in an impossible situation. I know what it’s like to have to make hard decisions.”

  “See?” Tamara says. “There you go: taking care of people.”

  All I can do is smile.

  After that, we fall into easy conversation, nothing too heavy.

  And it helps. It helps remind me of a simpler time, when we were young and hopeful and life hadn’t beaten the naivete out of us yet.

  Once I burp Phoenix, I put my cover-up away and I catch Tamara looking at him with a tender expression on her face.

  “I still can’t quite believe you have a baby,” she mumbles.

  I laugh. “Sometimes, I can’t believe it either.”

  She looks hesitant as she asks, “Esme… would you mind if… if I held him?”

  I grin. “Of course! Here.”

  Phoenix’s little legs churn in the air as I hold him over the table. Tamara’s hands are reaching out to grab him from me.

  Her fingers touch his torso.

  And then the unmistakable bang of a gunshot tears my world to pieces.

  38

  Artem

  Artem’s Temporary Headdquarters

  “What did you say?” I demand.

  “The council meeting,” Maxim repeats quickly. “It’s been moved up. Svetlana just called and gave me the intel.”

  “Moved up?” I say furiously. “To when?”

  “Now.” He stops short, but I can see that he’s just as tense as I am. “Budimir just left the compound for the hotel. The meeting will start in less than an hour.”

  “Fuck,” I curse under my breath. “Fuck! We’re not prepared for this today.”

  “We have to yank the plan,” Maxim says. “Just stake out the hotel and—”

  “No,” I deny firmly, practically spitting out the word with venom. “We’re not yanking anything. We don’t change a fucking thing. We’re still in play.”

  “But…”

  I turn around so fast that Maxim almost plows right into me. “I’m not letting that slippery motherfucker get away from me again. Not this time.”

  “Then what’s the plan?” he asks immediately.

  Immediate and unquestioning loyalty. Ready for battle. He’s a good man.

  “We know where the meeting is and we know where it’s being held,” I say. “We’re going.”

  Maxim doesn’t flinch. He nods and turns towards the door.

  “I’ll let the men know.”

  I move into my office space and go through my collection of guns. I choose my favorites and then head outside where the vehicles are already being brought around.

  “Maxim, Adrik, Vasyl, Zion,” I call.

  The four of them move forward, and I can see they’re all kitted up and armed. “I want each of you commanding your own unit. You’ll have ten men apiece.”

  “That only leaves you with three,” Adrik points out.

  “I only need three,” I reply.

  “Boss—”

  “Drop it,” I say firmly. “This is how we’re doing it. We don’t have the numbers and if we wait until we do, we’ll miss our opportunity.”

  Adrik sighs and steps back.

  “Budimir has been consolidating power this whole time,” I continue. “He’s being tolerated by the other dons, but he’s also brought in other allies, ones that are more likely to be loyal to him than the normal power players.”

  I holster another gun and lock eyes with my men.

  “We can’t afford to play it safe anymore,” I finish.

  The moment the words are out of my mouth, I think about my wife, my son. Am I betraying them right now by walking into a dons’ council meeting led by Budimir?

  It’s reckless. It’s foolhardy. It’s fucking suicide.

  But the best plans usually are.

  “Do we have eyes on the Regency?” I ask Zion.

  “Yes,” he informs me. “But there’ll be ten different dons present, including their entourages. We’re talking about more than a hundred armed and trained men in one building. If they all turn their sights on us…”

  He trails off, leaving the rest unsaid.

  But he doesn’t need to continue.

  We all know what will happen if I fail.

  “Not everyone is happy about Budimir’s take over,” I say. “Not everyone is happy about the bastards he’s invited into the inner circle.”

  “We’re betting a lot on that being true,” Maxim acknowledges grimly.

  He’s right. But we don’t have a choice.

  Strength is the only language that the underworld understands, and I need to walk in there, guns blazing.

  “What about Svetlana?” I ask, turning to Vasyl.

  “She’s on the thirty-first floor,” he answers right away. “The King’s Suite.”

  “Who do we have on her?”

  “Luka.”

  I nod. “Tell him he’s not to abandon his position,” I order. “No matter what. And if shit goes south, he’s to get Svetlana the fuck out of the building.”

  “We might need him,” Maxim interjects. “We’ll need every man.”

  “Svetlana is part of the team,” I say. “But she doesn’t have to die today. I’m not going to leave her unprotected. She put her neck on the line for several weeks up until this point. I won’t forget that.”

  Maxim nods, stone faced. “I’ll tell Luka.”

  “Good,” I say. “That’s it. Let’s get going.”

  I jump into the closest SUV, and we head into the heart of the city, towards the Regency. The whole time, my fingers twitch towards my phone.

  I desperately want to hear Esme’s voice before I go in there. But I resist the desire.

  This isn’t a goodbye.

  I will see her again. I will hear her voice again.

  I don’t need to hear it now.

/>   Today is just business as usual.

  The moment we get within a block of the hotel, I notice that security has been ramped up. Of course, the general public will assume that a politician or some high-profile celebrity is in town.

  But I know better. I see the guns in the jackets of the suited men swirling around the entrances. I see the reinforced armoring of the cars.

  This is all the city’s richest criminals here to do their dirt.

  And I’m getting ready to crash the party.

  We parks the cars in the hotel’s parking lot, but I make no move to get out.

  “Hold back,” I tell my men. “We need to wait until everyone is inside.”

  So we wait, watching as more cars line up outside the hotel. They deposit a group of men and drive off. Some of them park in the lot. Most don’t.

  I look up at the towering building, knowing that Budimir is in one of the topmost floors, probably already congratulating himself on his coronation as the newly legitimized don of the Kovalyov Bratva.

  Not for long, you son of a bitch.

  “Maxim is approaching,” one of my men lets me know.

  I roll down my window as Maxim approaches. He’s dressed subtly, but I can see the thick outline of the bullet proof vest he’s wearing underneath.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Maxim’s face is grim. “Kovar is here.”

  I stare at him in shock for a moment. “Say that name again.”

  He grimaces. “Kovar. I recognized him immediately.”

  “Budimir invited that motherfucker to the don’s council meeting?” I say, mostly to myself.

  Maxim nods.

  “Fuck,” I grumble. “The old bastard is more off the rails than I thought.”

  Throughout my whole childhood, Kovar was more of a ghost than a person. Like the boogeyman—a myth about a terrible creature lurking in the shadows.

  It wasn’t until I got older that I understood he was real.

  And he wasn’t a ghost. He was a man. A cruel man. A bloodthirsty man. A man with no code, no morals, no philosophy.

  He just lived for spilling blood.

  I had never come face to face with him, nor was that ever a realistic possibility. Not since Stanislav and the other dons exiled him from the council table.

  Several Years Earlier: “Exiled?” I ask. “Can you do that?”

  Stanislav looks at me with careful eyes that give nothing away. But I can tell from the set of his jaw that he’s pissed off.

  “I can do whatever the fuck I want,” he tells me. “I am the fucking don. And he is nothing but a sewer rat that needs to be squashed.”

  “A sewer rat that made a hundred million last year.”

  “By selling children into prostitution,” Stanislav snarls, and I realize suddenly that he’s not pissed with this Kovar scum. He’s pissed with Budimir for forcing this conversation to happen in the first place. “By selling children for parts.”

  “We haven’t exactly picked a moral business to deal in, brother,” Budimir says calmly. He seems completely unruffled by Stanislav’s obvious annoyance.

  “Selling guns and drugs is one thing,” Stanislav points out. “We don’t deal in children. And we don’t let anyone else deal in children on our turf.”

  “He’s prepared to give us a cut.”

  Stanislav slams his hand down on the table. The sound seems to reverberate around us. I see the color drain from Budimir’s face.

  But it’s not fear I’m sensing from him.

  “When did you start turning from opportunity, brother?” Budimir demands furiously.

  “It is my prerogative to do as I please,” Stanislav replies. “This is my fucking legacy.”

  Budimir seems to retreat within himself. He says nothing.

  “What about the other dons?” I fill in. “What will they have to say?”

  “They have all agreed to the exile,” Stanislav replies. “None of them want their brand tarnished with this mudak.”

  “He will not just slink away and disappear.”

  “No,” Stanislav agrees. “He will continue to operate, certainly. But not in my fucking city. Not on my fucking turf. If he comes back to Los Angeles, he knows what’s waiting for him.”

  I can see my uncle’s teeth grinding together, but just as swiftly as his anger had come, it’s dissipated. “You are right, brother. Forgive me. We do not need zasranec like that staining our territory.”

  Stanislav nods and leans back, satisfied.

  I pick up the file that’s sitting on my father’s massive table. When I open it, I see the images of all the children who’d landed in Kovar’s net.

  I see ten-year-old girls in red lipstick and silky negligees. I see their wide, shocked eyes staring into the camera with a hopelessness that’s chilling.

  I turn the page and see more children. Dead children, stripped and sliced and mutilated so their organs can be resold for a profit.

  It’s fucking sickening. Even that word doesn’t do it justice.

  “We don’t need his fucking money,” I growl.

  Budimir’s eyes turn to mine. Dark, hooded, searching. His expression is hard to read at first.

  And then he nods slowly. He smiles.

  “Indeed,” he says. “You are your father’s son, Artem. His son, through and through.”

  Had that been the moment—the one when Budimir made his choice?

  The memory makes my blood run hot.

  Fuck Kovar. Fuck Budimir.

  They’ll both pay for everything they’ve done.

  And unfortunately for them, “exile” is no longer a word in my vocabulary.

  I said it on that mountaintop months ago, when my body was broken and my world shattered:

  My name is death now. And death is what I have to offer.

  “The other dons might not have been warned about this invite,” Maxim suggests. “They won’t like it.”

  “It won’t matter,” I reply. “The Bratva still controls the entire Western coast. No matter how powerful they may be, their combined strength doesn’t come close to the Bratva’s.”

  Maxim nods, acknowledging that I’m right about that.

  “Budimir is going to make a show of power,” I continue. “He’s going to force them to stay silent and fall into line. They may not like it, but they won’t directly oppose him.”

  “Well, then,” Maxim says, “it’s up to you to give them a choice.”

  At that, the adrenaline starts to course through my body.

  It’s gametime.

  39

  Artem

  Two quick shots with a silencer takes out the man patrolling the back entrance.

  My soldiers catch him before his body even hits the ground. They drag him to a vehicle and throw him into the trunk. A Bratva man takes his place so no one is the wiser.

  Just like that, we’re in.

  I slip into the hotel through the back entrance with my men behind me. I can hear Maxim coordinating with his contingent of soldiers as we find our way to the lobby.

  Adrik walks towards me, having already entered the hotel from a separate entrance to avoid unnecessary scrutiny.

  “I have the list,” Adrik says, passing it over to me.

  I scan through it, seeing the names of all the men who were in the Presidential meeting suite on the penthouse floor.

  The names include every don who’d been invited, as well as their men.

  Per tradition, each don has only two men present. It’s an old rule meant to keep anyone from launching a surprise attack against the other dons.

  But today, it’s their Achilles heel.

  Fucking perfect.

  I scan further down the list and come across five additional names. I glance at Adrik with a frown. “What’s this?”

  “The waitstaff,” he explains. “Those five have been cleared to be in the room before the meeting officially starts. To serve the wine and food. They’ll be cleared out once the meeting gets going.”

/>   “That’s our in,” I say. “Have they gone up yet?”

  Adrik smiles. “All five are currently tied up in the staff quarters,” he says with obvious satisfaction. “Follow me.”

  The room Adrik leads us into is secured by two of my men. I walk inside to find the waiters, lying on the floor. They’re unconscious, but they’ve been bound and gagged all the same. Stripped to their underwear, too.

  Meaning there are uniforms laid out for five men.

  “I want to be in that room with you,” Maxim says, stepping forward.

  “As do I,” Adrik requests immediately.

  I nod. “The two of you are with me,” I say, before looking around at the rest of my men. “Alexei. Vasyl. You two as well. Get your uniforms on.”

  We get dressed quickly. When we’re all suited up, my men grab the food trolleys and we take the main elevator up to the penthouse floor.

  Security is mostly stationed inside the Presidential meeting room. Only two men standing outside the door.

  “Move fast,” I whisper as we stride down the hall. “We can’t make a sound.”

  Adrik and Maxim walk forward with their heads down. One of the security guards raises his hand.

  “Hold on,” he barks. “We need to check ID. Make sure you’re cleared for entrance.”

  The moment he looks down at his piece of paper, Adrik and Maxim have both struck. Their dagger-wielding hands swipe across their victim’s throats with expert skill, and before either guard can hit the ground, Adrik and Maxim grab them and pull them to the side closet where they deposit the bodies.

  I step forward, Vasyl and Alexei flanking me.

  “Nicely done,” I say. “From here on out, heads down. And don’t interact unless you have to. We’re free-balling it to the end now.”

  We enter the room, making sure to let the doors swing closed quickly so that no one notices the sudden lack of security just outside the door.

  I slip in behind my four men and dart to the side of the room.

  I stay at the very back of the pack, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone as my men move forward, pushing their food trolleys.