“No,” I grunt.
“We need to look closer at that Agent who talked Tati into leaving. He’s the weak link,” Sergei suggests. He’s right, of course he is, but I don’t know how to infiltrate.
“I have an in with the local cops, I don’t have one with the Feds,” I admit.
“You have a meeting with those motorcycle thugs this week, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I nod.
“Maybe they have an in for a price,” he shrugs. I add that to my mental to-do list when it comes to my meeting with MadDog Duhart.
“What are you two talking about?” Tati murmurs as she closes the sliding glass door behind her and walks straight to my side. I wrap my arm around her and tuck her in close, loving the feeling of her warm body pressed against mine.
“Nothing, shakhmatnaya figura, just work,” Sergei brushes off the question with a shrug.
We stand together and talk. We talk about nothing of significance, but we talk. Then, I kiss Tati on the forehead and I leave her alone with her father.
After twenty-years apart, they deserve some time to themselves, and I need to check in with my men. Ziven is supposed to be collecting money, and Maxim and Radimir are supposed to be checking into this FBI bullshit to see if we can find an in. A weak link.
“Is he being good to you, Tatyana?” my father asks as soon as Kirill leaves us alone.
I sigh, unsure as to how to answer the question. Today? Today he has been wonderful. Weeks ago? No, he was deplorable.
“I think he is being as good as he can be considering the circumstances,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip and looking at my suede boots. Expensive suede boots that Kirill has provided me with.
“I know that the contract is in place, signed by myself, Kirill’s father and Kirill himself. But in the end, Tati, in the end, I hold the right to revoke the entire fucking thing if I feel he’s not the right man for you,” he informs me. My eyes widen in surprise.
“Seriously?” I ask.
“Truly,” he confirms.
“Kirill is the father of my child, papa,” I say, as if he doesn’t already know this.
“I could give a fuck if he was the President of the United States, Tati. You’re my daughter,” he mutters. It fills me with pride, but then I think about his nickname for me.
“I thought I was just a shakhmatnaya figura?”
“This name I have for you, it’s not meant to be offensive. You are indeed my shakhmatnaya figura. But that doesn’t mean that I would let a man abuse you in anyway, Tatyana,” he grunts.
“I think that Kirill and I had some hurt to work through. I think that we’re past that; at least, I hope that we are,” I admit, looking at the lights, watching how the city twinkles ahead of us.
“He hurts you in anyway, I’ll kill him without a second thought and I’ll take you both with me to Moscow,” my father growls. He’s frightening and I now understand how he became feared and powerful.
“Yes, papa,” I whisper.
Then, he shocks me by wrapping his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me into his side before he speaks again.
“I never wanted to leave you. I thought that I was keeping you safe by going. Kirill informed me later that this was the wrong thing to do. He said your mother was a drunk and neglected you greatly. I apologize for that, Tatyana. Had I known, I would have sent for you. I would and will always protect you with my life. You and Kiska. You’re my only blood on this earth. You’re both my heart and soul.”
My body begins to tremble as tears falls from my eyes at his words. I try to dash them away, but only more follow, falling down my cheeks. His words are beautiful, if not sad.
“Did you not know her?” I whisper, trying to gather myself.
“I didn’t. Not really. I’m not what you would call a warm and caring man. She was a whore. A woman who was given to me to provide a service,” he shrugs.
“A whore?” I exhale.
“A slave,” he admits with a cold nod.
“A slave?” I breathe.
Holy shit.
“It is exactly why I separated myself from you. The organization would take the girls and sell them as slaves, or whore them out, and the boys were trained to be soldiers. It didn’t always used to be that way, but there were a couple dark decades where this is what happened. It’s been disassembled and we’re redesigning and rebuilding our structure. But your mother was my slave for a while. When she became pregnant, I kept her. She was only half Russian and wasn’t raised in our life. But when it became apparent that no matter the rank, small children were still being taken, I had to leave. I left you both with guards and hoped this would be enough. I didn’t know—I couldn’t know that inside your home was a different version of hell that you were living.”
“Did you hurt her?” I ask in disbelief.
“It’s my, how you say, kink. Slaves,” he chuckles. “I didn’t love her, but I adored her, and I did not mistreat her. Not like you think,” he explains.
I can’t understand his kinks, as he calls them. I want to understand him but that is not something I can comprehend. A slave. A woman as his slave; my mother as a piece of flesh, used for nothing but her body. Loved by no man for just being herself but for what she could provide for him. Then I came and he claims he adored her, but he left her and he never loved her. My heart aches for her, for the things I never knew about her, for the compassion I never gave her.
“That makes me sad, that she was used that way,” I murmur.
“Now that I have a daughter, and a granddaughter, it makes me sad as well, Tatyana. I wish that I could have fallen in love with her, or at least that I could have apologized to her. I wish that I could have been what she needed,” he murmurs.
“Are you in a relationship in Moscow?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me.
“I am. She fits my lifestyle and she’s what I need. I’m also what she needs,” he announces. I nod.
“Then my mother was not the woman for you, papa, and that’s okay. I hate what was done to her, that she lived in this world where she wasn’t allowed choices; but in the end, you kept her safe, right?”
“I did. I kept her financially, and I protected her so that she was not given to another, which could have easily happened,” he says with a firm nod.
“Then you did all you could, papa. You’re a good man,” I whisper into the night.
“I am anything but, Tatyana. I’ll protect my family with my life, as I think your Kirill will do as well,” he says. I turn to face him. He’s looking right at me, his eyes staring into my soul almost.
“He will,” I whisper. He nods once before he leans down and kisses my forehead.
“That is all I need to know. Now, I must be going. I’ll see you soon, shakhmatnaya figura,” he murmurs. He then leaves me standing in the middle of the yard, shocked, surprised and lost in thought.
“What’re you doing, Tati?” Kirill asks, what feels like seconds later.
“He surprised me. I didn’t expect everything he said, is all,” I shrug.
“Did he upset you?” Kirill asks, wrapping his hand around my lower back just as his other palm cups my cheek.
I look up at him.
My father was right. This man holding me will protect his family with his life. He’ll do whatever needs to be done to keep us safe.
I know it.
Just as I know that I love him.
“No, Kirill, not at all,” I smile. He narrows his eyes then brushes his lips against mine before he murmurs that it is time for us to go to bed.
I SIT DOWN ACROSS from the man who is in charge of this pack of wolves. The Notorious Devils motorcycle club. MadDog Duhart. He’s about twenty years my senior, but he’s built like a fucking brick house—sturdy, big, and almost indestructible looking. I have brought Ziven, Maxim, Radimir and Sergei with me. MadDog doesn’t know that Sergei outranks me and I have no desire to inform him of this.
There are several bikers sitting near MadDog. One i
s eyeing me more warily than the others, and I cock my head in his direction in question.
“Kirill, this is Sniper,” he introduces the stranger to his right. I narrow my eyes on the man.
“My father is Russian,” he informs. I lean back in my chair looking him over.
“I do know English, you don’t have to have an interpreter,” I chuckle.
“I know about five words of Russian, so I would be a fuckin’ horrible interpreter,” Sniper chuckles.
“Let’s get down to business then, shall we?” I ask.
“You called us here, Ruskie,” MadDog grunts.
“The Cartel has an in with the FBI. I want them out of my territories and I want to know who is passing them information. I want it all,” I shrug.
“We have a contract with them,” MadDog points out, as if I didn’t already know.
“I don’t just want it all, MadDog. I want them to suffer. We’re on minimum supply because of these fucks. We’ve got the FBI breathing down our necks and I want them gone. I want to be able to run my crews at full force again. I’ll make it worth your while,” I offer.
“Making the Cartel my enemy doesn’t give me the warm and fuzzies, Ruskie,” MadDog murmurs.
“So you enjoy being their mules?” I ask, arching a brow and aiming my question at Sniper.
“Fuck no,” Sniper grumbles.
I smirk victoriously at MadDog. His man has spoken, I’m sure the rest of the men feel the same.
“What’s in it for us?” MadDog asks, ignoring my question.
“Our supply is better quality. Cleaner, purer, not so muddled. You be our eyes and ears, find out what the fuck is going on with the FBI, who’s in on all that shit, and we’ll team up with you. Guns, whores, or drugs. Whatever you want. We do it all,” I offer with a grin.
“That sounds like a whole fuck’ve a lot of sticking our necks out for you all,” MadDog points out.
“We can’t get into the FBI’s system, not without throwing some big red flags up. We’ll back you cutting ties with the Cartel once we find out just what the fuck they know; you’ll have our protection. I’ve already had my woman and my child threatened. I want those pieces of shit gone,” I growl.
“Your woman?” Sniper asks.
“My woman and my daughter,” I confirm. I’m not getting into the whole story with them if I don’t have to.
“Hate those fucks,” Sniper exhales under his breath.
“Okay. But we’re not going full fucking force with this shit yet. We’ll get some intel on the Feds and who is feeding the Cartel information. Then we’ll go from there. I’m not sticking my neck, or my club’s neck on the line for you Ruskies yet. I’ll also need to be compensated for the information I provide before we have a deal in place for the rest,” MadDog demands.
He knows he has my balls in a vice. I nod to Ziven who takes a step forward and pulls an envelope out of his pocket, throwing it down on the table between us.
“Fifteen grand in there. I’ll give you another fifteen once I have a name of the Feds informant. Also, anything you hear about Agent Ryan Green that you can provide for me, that’ll earn you fifty grand,” I offer with a grin.
“Want him gone?” MadDog asks.
“Yes, but I want him to suffer,” I say.
My grin turns into a full-fledged smile at the thought of making that piece of shit suffer.
“Green is yours then. I’ll get you what I can on him. We’ve got a deal,” MadDog murmurs, taking the envelope.
I watch as he opens it and his thumb passes over the bills. I expect him to pull it out and count it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he holds out his hand to me. I take it and give him a firm shake, my eyes connecting with his.
“Let’s take a shot to our, hopefully, new arrangement,” he chuckles.
I spend the rest of the afternoon and evening partying with the motorcycle club. Maxim and Radimir stay to themselves as soon as the women start making rounds. Their girls are built, but they aren’t anything overly special. We have much prettier whores than these hanging around here.
“These are your whores?” I ask as MadDog takes the chair next to mine.
“Our whores, just for the men in this club to use,” he explains.
“Come to my strip club if you find yourself in West Hollywood. Beautiful women. Also, I have a stable closer to you here that one of my men runs. Gorgeous girls. High class call girls,” I say, trying not to disrespect him in his own place—but his women are trash.
“These are throwaways, Kirill. But I’m always down for a high class girl. Haven’t had one in a while,” he shrugs.
I take my card out of my pocket and write down the name and number of the Brigadier who runs the stable.
“Call him, I’ll text him tonight and tell him to expect your call. You pick the hair color, body type, whatever you want, and she’s yours for the night. Free of charge, for our new association and the hopes that we’ll have a long lasting relationship together.”
“Thanks, brother,” he grunts.
I take that as my time to leave our new friends. My men are not at all interested in their party. We’ve done our duty and spent time with them. We have a few hours’ drive back to the city, so we quietly tell them goodbye and leave.
Once we are outside, I see the man they called Sniper standing against the building, looking down at his phone. I tell my men I’ll catch up with them in a moment and head in his direction.
“Kirill,” he grunts as soon as I approach him.
“This is not your regular club, why were you here today?” I ask, noticing the patch that says Bonners Ferry on his cut.
“My father is a mean bastard, a drunk, and a Russian. I wanted…” he trails off.
“To see more people of your race?” I ask.
“I suppose. Something like that. I’m only half Russian, but I was curious,” he shrugs.
“Once the dust settles, whatever you want to know, you ask.”
“I want to know about my family. My father was born in Moscow but moved here when he was seventeen. There’s a story. I know there is,” he practically demands.
“What’s your name, your real name?” I ask.
“Lukin, Bates Lukin,” he says, straightening from his leaning against the wall.
“That is no doubt very Russian,” I chuckle. “I’ll find out what I can,” I say.
“I’ll personally look for the information on Green. Threatening us is one thing, our women and children, a whole other fuckin’ ballgame,” he grunts.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“Yeah, keep your family safe.”
“Yes,” I confirm before I wave and leave him with his men.
“What did the Russian mutt want?” Ziven asks as soon as I step inside of the SUV.
“He wants to know about his heritage. He’s a Lukin. His father moved here when he was young; he’s a mean drunk, apparently. Said he would personally look into Agent Green for the information,” I shrug as Ziven takes off down the road.
“Lukin?” Sergei asks.
“Yeah,” I confirm.
“Name sounds familiar. Let me make some phone calls.”
I settle into the seat and close my eyes. I’m not drunk, or even tipsy, but I can’t help but think about everything that I have just put into motion.
Fucking with the Cartel is no joke, and I’ve just essentially pulled the trigger. I can only hope that no matter what happens, my Tati and Kiska remain safe.
Alex’s lover, Oliver, couldn’t get into the FBI’s system without compromising his IP address—something I did not want him to chance. He said with some more equipment and time he thought he could get in there, but I had him hold off on the mission until we talked with the Notorious Devils. If they already have an in, there is no reason to use Oliver, yet.
Once we arrive back in West Hollywood, we all go our separate ways. To my surprise, Sergei doesn’t ask to see the girls. He is preoccupied and says that he has phone calls to make. I wa
lk into the house and smell something delicious coming from the kitchen. When I walk into the kitchen, it’s empty. In fact, the house is completely dark and quiet.
I make my way into the master bedroom to find Tatyana sitting under the covers, just looking straight ahead. It is then that I know I must be in trouble. When her eyes connect with mine, it is confirmed that I am indeed in trouble.
“Where’s Kiska?” I ask, ignoring her angry glare.
“Asleep,” she states.
“It’s only…” I lift my arm and look at my watch, then my eyes widen and I look back up to her.
“Two in the morning, Kirill,” she says.
I didn’t know it was so late. In fact, I thought it was closer to ten, maybe eleven.
“I didn’t know it was so late, Tati,” I say.
“You didn’t call and you didn’t answer when I called,” she says. I can’t help but notice the hurt radiating in her eyes.
I take my phone out of my pocket and notice that it is still powered down from my meeting with MadDog. I turned it off because I didn’t want any distractions. Then, I forgot to turn it back on. Seeing as my most important contacts were with me the entire time, I just forgot.
“I had a meeting. I forgot to turn it back on. I apologize, Tatyana,” I murmur as I power it back on.
“Who were you with?” she asks.
“What? I was with Ziven, Sergei, Maxim and Radimir. We had an important meeting today. That’s all I can tell you,” I explain as I begin to strip my suit off.
“I don’t believe you,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around herself.
I look over in surprise. Never, not even when she was young, did she ever question me or not believe me. I’d never given her reason to question my devotion to her.
“What’s this, then?” I ask sitting down on the bed next to her.
“Who were you fucking?” she blurts out. I rear back before I clench my jaw hard, my eyes focused on her.
“You watch yourself, Tati,” I warn.
“Why? Am I right?” she asks. It pisses me off.
“Nyet. You are not right,” I inform her before I straddle her thighs and take her wrists in my hand, pinning them above her head. Our noses are touching and our breathing labored. She doesn’t fight me though, not like I expect.
Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) Page 18