by Nicole Fox
“There’s no one left to protect you,” the man informs me.
I look around the café. There are still people who are alive, but they’re cowering under the tables silently, hoping to escape notice.
I see a few of the waitstaff huddled behind the counter of the restaurant’s bar. Surely someone will call the cops. If the police get here, maybe we have a chance.
“No one’s coming,” the man says, as though he’s reading my mind. “We have friends in law enforcement that are happy to look the other way for a little while.”
“Bullshit,” I snap.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong—the cops will get here eventually,” he agrees. “But they’ll be too late to stop me taking you… and throwing your brat off a fucking bridge.”
I won’t let him see my fear. I won’t let him see my fear. I won’t let him see my fear.
I repeat the mantra in my head until it’s true. Until I have control of my body, my emotions.
My days of cowering in corners while violent men do their worst to me? Those days are over.
I’m a don’s wife now.
“Last time I saw you, that little shit was in your belly,” he remarks.
I stare at him, trying to recognize the eyes, but I’m coming up blank.
“Who are you?” I demand.
“Wow! I’m hurt,” he gasps sarcastically. “I would have thought you’d remember trying to knock my lights out in that shithole of a diner.”
“Sara,” I breathe.
“Was that her name?” he asks. “Yeah, she was a sweet piece of ass. Not that I got to taste it.”
He shifts, and I see a tiny glimpse of the ink on his throat.
The man with the eagle tattoo.
I shake my head uncomprehendingly. “Why are you here?” I ask. “What do you want with me?”
“Oh, I know exactly what I want,” he tells me. His tone makes his ideas in that department disgustingly clear. “But unfortunately, my needs will have to wait until after Budimir is done with you.”
I knew it.
I had known it all along, and yet the revelation still cuts me like the sharp edge of a dagger.
“You work for him?”
He nods slowly. “He recruited me and my men months back,” he tells me. “Of course, your man tried to do the same not long ago. But we’d already chosen our side.”
“Then you chose wrong,” I tell him with a strength I don’t feel.
Tamara’s fingers tighten around my arm and only then do I realize that she’s still holding on to me.
“Did I now?” he asks, sounding mildly amused.
“We have to go,” another masked man says urgently, as he comes up behind Eagle Tattoo.
He ignores his partner completely and keeps his eyes set on me.
“Your man is dead,” he says plainly. “And if he’s not, he soon will be. Budimir controls all the gangs on the Western coast.”
“You don’t know my man,” I hiss. “Artem Kovalyov will take back what’s his. And when he does, he’s going to crush every fool who moved against him.”
“Is that right?” he chuckles.
“That’s a fucking promise.”
I can see the deadly smile he’s giving me from the crinkle in his eyes. He steps forward so that he’s only a foot away from me.
I cringe away from him, holding Phoenix even closer to my chest.
“Here’s my promise,” he whispers. “Once Budimir is done with you, I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’re gonna split right down the middle. And afterwards, you’re going to thank me and beg for more.”
I spit in his face, “Fuck you.”
“Good! I like a little spirit in the sack,” he chuckles. “I like a woman who fights back. It makes breaking her all the more entertaining.”
My blood is boiling with equal parts fear and anger, but I don’t have any means to strike back. Tamara is clutching my arm and Phoenix is still crying loudly against my chest.
Eagle Tattoo straightens up. “Now, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
He signals to his men. Two of them converge in towards us. I back away immediately, holding on to both Tamara and Phoenix.
“Don’t be fucking stupid now,” Eagle Tattoo groans. Then he looks towards Tamara. “You can scram. We only want her and the brat. Step aside now.”
Tamara does start to move, but she doesn’t step aside like she’s just been ordered to. She steps forward, putting herself between him and me.
“No,” she says.
My heart clenches.
I know how much it takes her to do this. She’s terrified, and even if I hadn’t heard that fear in her voice, I see it in her trembling body as she stands directly in front of me and Phoenix.
She’s standing up for me.
Doing what she should have done months ago.
Atoning for her sins—with bravery and heart and loyalty and love.
Eagle Tattoo glares at her for a moment and sighs deeply.
“Fucking idiot,” he growls.
He raises his gun, but before I can so much as scream, he’s fired.
Tamara drops to the floor—a gasp forever trapped in her throat.
“No!” I scream, but before I can take a step forward towards her, two men have grabbed me.
They start pulling me towards the door and all I can do is scream and plead and curse at all of them as I clutch my baby and cry for one more innocent life stripped away—because of me.
Just before they push me out the door, I glance behind at Tamara’s lifeless body. I see blood pooling around her, but her face is turned down and invisible to me.
“Tamara…” I whisper as I’m forced into a car waiting outside.
I’m sorry.
I don’t even know who I’m apologizing to as I look down at my infant son, whose dark eyes are fixed on me with uncertainty.
I’m so, so sorry.
41
Artem
The Presidential Suite Of The Regency Hotel
For two seconds, I think we’ve won.
The Irish came. Ronan and Sinead sent their men to fight on my behalf. They honored their son’s sacrifice.
It’s over. It’s over. We’ve won.
But Budimir is one second faster than me.
And that’s what makes all the difference.
In one motion, he grabs a gun from his bodyguard’s holster and pumps two rounds into the huge man’s back. Blood erupts and the falling corpse forces the Irishmen to scatter.
Budimir uses the distraction to burst through the doors right behind me.
For the first time in my life, I’m frozen in fear.
He’s getting away.
The bastard is getting away.
The fight resumes around me, loud and chaotic and deadly. The Irish are firing at Kovar and Bufalino and their men, who are returning fire even as they drop one by one.
It ends quickly—the Irish far outnumber the rat-faced fucks that Budimir just abandoned.
The last gunshot sounds distinctly ominous, even as it ends the life of that smug bastard, Kovar.
But I don’t wait for the satisfaction of seeing the lights fade out from his eyes.
I have to chase down my uncle.
I get to my feet, blood staining my clothes, my hands, and probably my face, too. I can feel the dry crust of battle settle over me like a second skin.
I look around for my men. Maxim is sprawled out next to me, skin pale and cold. The loss weighs heavily on me.
But I have no time to mourn.
I turn and sprint towards the back entrance of the room that Budimir just escaped through.
“Boss!” Adrik’s voice is hoarse from exertion. “Where are you going?”
I don’t bother replying. I just grab a loose gun from the floor and run faster.
I hear them shouting my name—Adrik, Vasyl and Alexei—but I ignore them all and keep going. Adrenaline is pumping, giving me second wind.
If I let the slipper
y motherfucker go, I’m not sure I’ll get another opportunity.
Little drops of blood mark the path Budimir took. I follow them into the fire escape and start jumping down the stairs, leaping over three, four steps at a time.
I see a fast-moving figure down below and when I lean over the railing, I see Budimir’s shadow nearing the ground floor.
He looks up and catches sight of me, his eyes going dark with loathing.
I duck back as he starts shooting up towards me, but the angle doesn’t allow for accurate aim.
The bullets cease, just in time for me to hear the fire escape slam shut and I know they’re out of the building.
I continue down, rushing as fast as I can until I reach the ground floor myself. A few passing tourists gasp as I burst out into the open.
I know what I probably look like, but I don’t fucking care. The only thing I care about now is finding Budimir and pulling the bastard’s black heart right out of his chest.
I scan the area for my uncle.
Looking, looking… there.
I dart across the street, and I raise my gun to the shrieks and screams of the people walking past. They alert Budimir to my presence, and he darts behind a cement pillar that takes the bullet meant for him.
“Fuck!” I roar.
Budimir jumps into his armored vehicle.
I race forward, ignoring the terrified people fleeing the scene, but I know that I won’t be able to get Budimir now.
The car roars out into the street. I jump back, narrowly avoiding being struck.
Then I hear Budimir’s voice carry towards me from the open sunroof of the car.
“I’ll take good care of your wife and son,” he bellows.
Then he’s gone.
I stand there as Budimir’s words hit me square in the face. It feels as though he’s struck me, and suddenly, the pain of my physical wounds disappears underneath the acute fear of what I have yet to lose.
“Fuck!” I yell furiously.
I double back and head back to the Regency’s lot, where Adrik and the rest of my men are pulling out, along with the men the O’Sullivans deployed.
I jump into the first car with Adrik.
“Safehouse,” I reply. “Now.”
I turn in my seat and spy Maxim’s body in the back. He would almost look peaceful if it weren’t for the sheen of blood that almost completely obscures his features.
I grimace yet again.
Cillian. Maxim. Stanislav.
Too many good men dead because of my uncle. Far, far too many.
“What’s his wife’s name?” I ask.
“Lena,” Adrik answers softly. “He’s got two girls.”
I catch sight of Luka then. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand. “Where the hell is Svetlana?”
“She insisted on staying in the field,” Luka tells me. “She told me to tell you that her position hasn’t been compromised yet. Budimir had two men assigned to her, and they took her away as soon as the fighting started.”
“She went with them?” I ask.
“She did,” Luka says. “Don’t worry; they didn’t see me.”
I know this information should leave me feeling like I have the upper hand again, but it doesn’t.
He has my wife.
He has my son.
The grim reality of those facts repeat in my head, over and over again, a mantra that has me unravelling.
“Boss—”
“They have Esme,” I snap, cutting Adrik off. “They have my son.”
Adrik stares at me for a moment and grabs his phone. I know who he’s trying to contact, and I also know that no one will pick up.
“Don’t bother,” I tell him. “Alik and Gennadi are gone.”
“It’s not too late,” Adrik says quickly. “Budimir wouldn’t have captured them just to kill them. He’s using them as bait.”
“I know,” I reply, and the tone of my voice silences any further discussion.
The moment we get to the safehouse, I head inside. My weary men follow behind me. They all look tired and uncertain, but my determination has just reached new heights.
I turn, just as Ronan’s men file into the safehouse behind us.
“I appreciate the help,” I tell the main soldier. “What’s your name?”
“Kian,” he replies, extending his hand out to me.
“How many men were you sent with?”
“A hundred.”
It’s impressive, but not even close to the number we’d need to take on the entire Bratva.
Still—it’s a hundred more men than we started with.
“What made your boss change his mind?” I ask.
Kian shrugs. “You’ll have to ask him that,” he says. “I just follow orders.”
“What were your orders, exactly?”
“Come here and help you take the Bratva back from your uncle.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I haven’t done that yet.”
“Well, then, I guess we can’t go back home until you do,” he says with a grin.
I don’t let the surprise show on my face, but in essence, Ronan has transferred command of a hundred of his men to me. It’s a gesture that tells me a lot.
He never forgot about you, Cillian.
He never stopped thinking of you as his son.
I don’t believe in an afterlife or an after-anything. But in this one moment, I actually hope that I’m wrong. That there is such a thing.
If only so that Cillian could know that his family hadn’t abandoned him as completely as he’d always believed.
I nod and turn around, so that it’s clear I’m speaking to all my men. “We have to move fast,” I announce. “And this time, we’re pulling no punches. We’re going to attack in full force. All our men. We’re going to take back my father’s compound.”
“We’re still going to be out numbered,” Adrik points out.
“Yes, we are,” I agree.
I stand my ground and wait for someone to tell me that I’m insane.
That this plan of mine basically amounts to a suicide mission.
But no one does. Every man in there stays silent.
Some look nervous. Some look resigned. Some look eager.
They all look loyal.
“I know this house,” I tell them. “So do many of you. We’re going to spend the next two hours planning our method of attack. Then we storm the compound.”
I turn towards my office, but halfway there, I glance back over my shoulder.
“Oh, and one more thing,” I say. “When we do manage to take the compound, the men who declared loyalty to Budimir are to be given a choice.”
“What?” Adrik asks in shock.
I don’t hesitate, though. I head into my office and close the door. The door stays closed for maybe five seconds tops, and then it flies open and Adrik enters, along with a handful of my unofficial underbosses.
The last to enter is Kian, but no one asks him to leave, and the door closes behind him.
“You want us to give Budimir’s men a choice?” Adrik demands, jumping right into it.
“Yes.”
“They fucking betrayed you!” he practically yells.
I stare him down until I see him swallow. “I… I just mean… there should be consequences.”
“And there will be,” I say. “But the consequence doesn’t have to be their lives. I have it on good authority that many of them were threatened into choosing Budimir. Their families’ lives were on the line.”
“And you believe the source?” Vasyl asks.
I nod.
I can tell Adrik is not happy. A few others don’t look convinced of my decision either, but I don’t take back my words.
I plan on being a leader who listens to everyone’s opinions. Like my father raised me to be, even if couldn’t see the wisdom of that back then.
But there are some issues I cannot and will not compromise on.
Every man deserves a chance to right his p
ath.
“Get the men organized into groups,” I say. “I want teams targeting the compound’s exterior. Once we get inside, those teams need to turn their firepower outward. We don’t want Budimir’s allies and reinforcements trapping us on the inside.”
“That might happen regardless,” Adrik points out.
“We’ll see,” I reply, confidence bolstering my tone and brooking no argument.
My eyes twitch to the small makeshift bar in the corner of the room. Once upon a time, I would have craved the whiskey. The reassurance of it.
Now, all I see there is weakness in a bottle.
My wife.
My son.
That’s where my strength lies now.
“We’ll need an extraction team,” Luka says. “For…”
“No,” I say, cutting him off. “I will extract my wife and son myself. Budimir is going to rue the day he ever thought of taking what was mine.”
We spend the next hour making our plans.
I try to not upend the table I’m sitting at. The rage never subsides. I feel like I’m a raw bundle of nerves waiting to explode.
And then my phone rings.
“Fuck,” I growl. “Everyone. Out. Now!”
I pick up just as the last few guys clear out and leave me to an empty room.
“Hello?” I answer carefully.
“Artem?”
Svetlana’s voice is shaky and slightly nervous. She’s speaking low, urgent, her normal hint of flirtation completely gone.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“I’m in the compound,” she tells me. “In one of the rooms on the top floor. Don’t worry—I’m safe.”
“Have you seen Budimir yet?”
“No,” Svetlana replies. “I was brought here from the hotel and told to stay in this room. But the place is chaos. Everyone is running around like chickens with their heads cut off.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“They have your wife, Artem,” she whispers. “And I heard a baby cry, too.”
My heart drums so hard that it fucking hurts. The rage galvanizes into purpose.
But there’s hope there, too.
Esme is still alive.
Phoenix is still alive.
And as long as they both still draw breath, I have a fucking purpose.