Betrothed to the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 8)

by Hayley Faiman

  My brother-in-law was shot.

  Luckily, my father can’t hire the best professionals available, and he missed any vital organs. I think back to the phone call I received when Devyn was in the restroom at the palace. Oksana was beside herself and called me in a complete panic.

  “Timofei,” her voice cracks.

  The hair rises on the back of my neck, knowing that something is terribly wrong. “Talk to me, Sana.”

  “He, Mika, he was shot,” she sobs. Closing my eyes, I drop my head. “He’s going to be okay, but Timofei?”

  “Yeah?” I rasp.

  She pulls in a breath, I can hear the heaviness in her move through the phone. “He almost killed my husband. I need you to come home.” Her voice is a little darker, a little more demanding. I can’t stop the pride from hearing her strength.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I possibly can.”

  Konstantin has been keeping me updated. He informed me that Mika was released from the hospital just a few hours after being admitted.

  I run my hand over my face, unsure as to why my father won’t let this shit go. Mika has more than proved his love and worth to have my sister as his own. Just because it wasn’t my father’s choosing doesn’t mean that he doesn’t deserve her.

  Plus, they have a baby together. I feel a sharp pain in my chest, images filling my head of me leaving Devyn alone and pregnant because my father is a crazy fucking bastard.

  Closing my eyes, I decide not to think about it.

  The flight back to New York is uneventful, and I’m glad for it. We arrive late in the evening, Konstantin waiting for us on the tarmac. I wonder if he has more news for me than he did before the plane took off in Paris.

  Quietly, Devyn stays at my side while I help her down the stairs of the plane and into the waiting car. Once she’s in the backseat, I turn to Konstantin, waiting to hear what he has to say.

  “It was your father’s man who tried to kill Mika, not even hired out. It was a Shestyorka, fifteen years old and trying to earn his place in the organization. I have him now. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do with him,” Konstantin announces.

  I scrub my hand, down my face, and let out a groan. “What the fuck?”

  “Exactly what Yakov said,” he mutters, looking to the side with his hands on his hips.

  Thinking about the age of the kid, I close my eyes. That’s exactly what he is at fifteen, a fucking kid. It makes me sick. It’s not his fault. A Pakhan ordered it. No matter what it was, he would agree to do it. Though I don’t hold the boy responsible, I can’t just let him go, either. He tried to kill a Brigadier of the Bratva.

  “I need to see my sister, make sure she’s okay. Is the boy at a safe house?”

  “Yeah, he is,” he nods.

  Wrapping my hand around the back of my neck, I look to the car and let out a puff of air. “Take Devyn to my apartment in Brighton Beach. I’m going to see Oksana and Mika, then probably Yakov. I don’t trust anybody in my father’s crew but you. Can you stay with her until I return?” I ask, shoving my hand into my pocket as I take out my keys.

  “Yes, boss,” he murmurs.

  I feel a tightness in my chest at his title for me. Boss. A title I haven’t earned yet. A title that has solely been my father’s my entire life. A title that soon will be mine.

  Handing Konstantin the keys to my place, I tell him what apartment number is mine before I thank him and slap him on the back. I also advise him to keep his phone close, in case Yakov wishes to talk to him, or in case I get any new information. He agrees with a dip of his chin before he jogs over to the driver’s seat.

  I don’t say anything to Devyn. I don’t have the time. If I say anything about the situation, she’ll only be scared. She was obviously wary at the fact that we had to cut our trip short anyway.

  Saying anything to her about Mika, about my father, it would just frighten her. She doesn’t need to know any of this anyway. It’s not her concern, as I’ll always keep her safe.

  Oksana is a printsessa, strong and capable of handling the situation. Devyn, I don’t know her well yet, but our organizations are not the same. It’s obvious her father has shielded her, his main goal to mold her to be what he believed she should to become, a sweet and naïve mob wife.

  Ignoring the car’s engine as it starts up and takes off behind me, I jog toward the pilot and ask for a ride into the city. He agrees, and I busy myself with my phone, texting Oksana and finding out exactly where they are as the driver makes his way toward Manhattan.

  Mika and Oksana chose to stay away from Brighton Beach for my wedding, even though it would have been much easier. However, my father was Oksana’s main reason for wishing to be further away, or rather, her hatred for him. I don’t blame her. Yet, distance didn’t matter. He still got to her.

  “The Four Seasons,” the pilot murmurs. I thank him and offer him some extra money for going out of his way. He waves me off.

  Without delay, I hurry to the elevator and hit the floor that Oksana said her room was located. My fucking crazy father. Shaking my head, I knock on the hotel door and it swings open.

  My sister greets me, looking up at me with wide blue eyes. Then those eyes, they fill with wetness before she throws herself at me. She wraps her arms around me and I return the gesture, holding onto her, comforting her.

  “He’s dead, Sana,” I murmur against the top of her head. I return her hug, holding her tightly.

  “Papa?” she asks on a whimper.

  I grunt and she looks up at me, chewing on the side of her cheek, one of her nervous habits. “Yeah, papa. You know he hired a fifteen-year-old boy? A boy trying to become a member—a Bratva boy,” I murmur, telling her something I probably shouldn’t. It’s Oksana. She can handle it.

  “Come inside,” she whispers as she turns and tugs me into her suite. “Mika is in the bedroom. Misha is asleep, finally,” she sighs. “You know Mika was holding him when it happened? My baby could have died, Timofei.”

  “Are you telling me this to piss me off more? Or is it your way of saying you don’t care what happens to papa?” I ask, arching my brow.

  I watch as her shoulders rise and fall, and she looks away for a beat before her eyes meet mine again. The fear and sadness are gone, replaced with anger and white hot rage. “Maybe I want his fucking head brought to me,” she states.

  “Sana,” I warn.

  “Fuck him. If something had happened to Misha, or if Mika were seriously injured, he’d already be dead, because I would have killed him with my bare hands,” she states with a nod.

  I nod and dip my chin slightly, tilting my head to the side. “It is done, Sana. You have nothing else to worry about. I will take care of this,” I ensure her.

  “Sooner rather than later,” she states as she starts to walk to a closed door. “Mika is in here.”

  I stand and walk toward her, wrapping my hand around her shoulder and giving it a squeeze before I lower my head and let my lips brush across her cheek. “Trust me, Sana. I’ve always taken care of you and I always will. It is done.”

  A MAN SITS DOWN in the front seat, starts the engine, and leaves the airport. I gasp and turn around to see Timofei walking away. I look back at the driver, then Timofei’s body, which is getting further and further away by the second.

  My heart starts to race and I can feel myself beginning to panic. I don’t know anything that’s going on. Timofei hasn’t said two words to me since our flight took off from Paris hours ago. Now some stranger is driving me somewhere unknown.

  “He has business to handle. I’m taking you to his apartment,” the stranger states, his voice deep and rough, but surprisingly soothing.

  He’s older than me probably close to thirty. His hair is dark and styled perfectly—short on the sides and combed back, but longer on top. He has a very short cropped beard, more than a 5 o’clock shadow. He’s handsome, at least his profile is.

  “Who are you?” I ask, my voice sounding so much smaller than I meant i

t to.

  “Konstantin, a friend of Timofei’s, an associate,” he clarifies. I nod, accepting his answer, but still feeling extremely wary of this stranger. “You been to Brighton Beach before?” he asks as he continues to drive.

  “I’ve never been across the Verrazano Bridge,” I admit, trying to hide a blush.

  “Never?” he asks with surprise in his voice.

  Shaking my head, as though he can see me in the backseat, I answer quietly. “I wasn’t allowed to leave Staten Island.”

  “Crazy,” he murmurs as he continues to drive.

  The rest of the ride is in silence, and I can’t help but wonder what was so important that Timofei couldn’t have taken me to his apartment himself; or our apartment, I suppose.

  We pull up to a building and Konstantin parks the car before he climbs out and opens my door for me. The building just looks like a regular apartment building, all brick, nothing special, and I wonder what the inside of my new home looks like. Will it be as non-descript as the outside?

  Konstantin carries the luggage, and I watch as he takes out a key and then walks past the reception desk and into the elevator. I hurry behind him and slip inside as he’s hitting a button.

  I don’t see what floor we’re travelling to. His body covers the view, so I just wait until it opens and he begins to walk out, hurrying behind his long legs with my own short ones.

  He stops in front of a door and opens it with the key, stepping aside for me to enter first. I walk inside and my eyes widen. The entire apartment is plain, and not just plain but plain-plain. It has a brown sofa, a television on one wall, barstools at the counter and nothing else. No dining room table and chairs, no lamps or photographs.

  It’s completely blank.

  No, it’s beyond that. It’s void.

  Leaving Konstantin at the door, I walk toward where I think the bedrooms potentially are. There is a small hallway and three doors, two are directly across from each other, and then there’s another one that looks like it’s a bathroom. I decide to pick the one that’s all by itself and open it, in hopes of finding the master.

  I take one foot into the room and stop. It’s as blank as the living and kitchen area. A mattress and box spring sit on top of the floor. No headboard, footboard or even bedframe around it. There’s no dresser, no nightstand, and blank white walls greet me.

  “He’s lived in Denver for the past few years, this was just a…” Konstantin’s voice trails off, and I turn to face him. He’s standing behind me, but not too close, his back leaning against the wall across from me.

  “A fuck pad,” I state. His eyes widen as he just stares at me.

  Then he smiles widely and starts to laugh. “I don’t know what he did here.”

  I roll my eyes and turn back to the room, walking the rest of the way in while Konstantin wheels our luggage behind me. “Where’d he go?” I ask as I walk over to a window and look out.

  The beach. I’m so close to the beach that I can actually see it. I’ve never seen the beach before, and now it’s practically right in front of me. It’s amazing, and I find myself completely mesmerized by the small waves as they roll in and out.

  “I’ll be here until Timofei comes back, but I’ll stay in the living area,” Konstantin’s deep voice calls out.

  I turn and look at him standing in the door frame. He’s tall and strong looking, bigger than Timofei, and his hair so much darker. He’s opposite of him in a lot of ways, and his eyes they look almost kind, with a little pity as he watches me.

  “You didn’t answer me,” I whisper.

  “Can’t tell you,” he murmurs as he takes a step back. “You’re young in a lot of ways, but not in others,” he states, tilting his head to the side.

  Thinking about his words, I roll my lips a few times before I nod. “Yeah,” I agree.

  “Be careful. This world is a lot like that ocean. People and situations come and go, but if you aren’t paying attention, if you aren’t carefully wading through that water, it will tug you down and pull you under before you can even take a breath.” Konstantin turns away and doesn’t allow me to respond to his words.

  I think about what he’s said as I turn back to the water. The ocean would definitely pull me down and suck me under, as I can’t swim. This world will do the same, as my husband won’t allow me to even attempt to swim.

  I’m blindly wading through the water and praying there isn’t a drop off. Timofei doesn’t seem to give much of a shit if I fall and drown at this point. Maybe things will change over time, as we grow together, or maybe I’m destined to always be holding my breath and praying.

  Needing a shower, I open my suitcase on the floor and gather my items. I then make my way to the bathroom. It’s sparkling clean, and it makes me wonder if he has a maid service that has been here each time he’s occupied the place and left. Probably. That seems like something he’d do.

  I quickly shower and then find a dress to wear. Most of the dresses my sister packed are skimpy and sexy, except for two. One is dark green and the other a plum color—my church dresses. I’m thankful that she knows me well enough to know that if I could help it, I wouldn’t miss mass. I’m also thankful that she knows I would want something appropriate for church.

  Once I’m dressed in a long sleeve, dark green, wrap dress that falls to just below my knees, I slip into a pair of nude high heels and run my fingers through my wavy hair before I make my way out to the living area.

  Konstantin’s head pops up from his phone and his eyes widen when he sees me. “I’d like to go to church,” I state.

  “Timofei didn’t say leaving was an option,” he murmurs.

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t deny my need of prayer. I’ve had a really hard week, Konstantin, and I’d really like to just be in church for a while. Think and pray,” I state.

  “Only one church you’re allowed to attend around here,” he says as he stands and slips his phone into his pocket.

  “That is?”

  With a grin, he answers. “The Russian Orthodox Church.”

  I nod as though I find this perfectly normal and acceptable, but he only keeps grinning. I let out a breath of relief when he begins to walk toward the door and opens it, waiting for me to follow.

  We ride toward the church in silence. I only have one thing on my mind, and that is the fact that Timofei is somewhere and he left me alone. He left me alone with some stranger, a babysitter.

  It doesn’t take us long to arrive at the church, and I smile at the sight. It looks like Timofei’s tattoo, the domes and everything. It’s all red brick with green domes and accents of gold. It’s absolutely stunning.

  “I’ll wait for you right here,” Konstantin announces. I nod as I open the door and make my way inside of the beautiful cathedral.

  I need to have a conversation with God.

  I need to fuel my body with His word and just be in His house.

  Mika sits up a little higher as I walk into his room, closing the door behind me to ensure that Oksana doesn’t follow. Walking over to the window, I place my hands on the sill and let out a heavy exhale as I look at Manhattan below us.

  “He’s a little obsessed,” Mika murmurs.

  “Just slightly,” I chuckle, turning to him.

  Mika looks tired as he runs his hand through his hair. My eyes drop to his other shoulder, noticing it’s bandaged where he was shot. My jaw clenches when I notice how close it is to his chest. Luckily, it’s not close enough to cause any real damage.

  “It’s true he hired a boy?” he asks.

  Nodding, I rest my ass against the windowsill. “Fifteen, a Bratva boy who wants into the organization. Konstantin has him in a safe house. Pasha promised him brotherhood as long as he followed through with the job. He was a shit aim because he’s never really shot before.”

  “A Pakhan gives you an order, no matter what territory he’s in charge of, you follow it. A Pakhan like Pasha gives you an order, you don’t even hesitate or think of the consequences of your actions,” he states. I nod. “He’s done.”

  “He is,” I agree. “He’s still in Paris, but collection is in a few days’ time, so I assume he’ll return for that.”

  “You’re going to do it at this week’s collection instead of waiting until the next one?” he asks, just as Yakov and Dominik walk through the bedroom door.

  “Depends on if I have enough men as backup.”

  “You’ll have them,” Yakov announces. “What about O’Neil’s men?”

  I wrap my hand around the back of my neck and give it a squeeze. “O’Neil is my next stop.”

  “Why does that make you look miserable?” Mika smirks.

  I shift my eyes to him and narrow them. “I promised him a Sunday family dinner at his place. Now that I’m home earlier and asking for his help, he’ll demand it,” I say, curling my lip at the thought.

  “Dinner with the in-laws, sounds fucking fantastic,” Dominik laughs.

  “Collection is before Sunday, so as long as all goes well and his men really do help me, I guess I can’t deny the dinner,” I murmur.

  We spend the next thirty minutes going over our plan and what I need to tell Patrick, as far as where his men need to be stationed and what time it will all take place.

  It seems easy enough; except when something like this is in the works, emotions run high. I have no doubt my father will not easily relent, and neither will his men. There is potential for so much to go wrong.

  My phone rings just as I’m about to leave, and I look down to see it’s Konstantin. “Hello,” I answer.

  “Pasha is boarding a plane in the morning to return. He informed me he wouldn’t be missing the collection,” Konstantin announces. I find myself distracted by what sounds like street traffic in the background.

  “Where are you?” I demand.

  “Your wife wished to go to church. She’s inside of the Russian Orthodox Church.”

  “Get her the fuck home,” I demand. “Stay there until I tell you otherwise.”

  I end the call and turn to the other men in the room. Mika and Dominik are smiling at me, and Yakov looks concerned. I ignore all of them, too pissed off that Konstantin allowed Devyn to leave the apartment.

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