by Stacy Gail
He turned back to me so abruptly I almost ran into him. “For you?”
“Yeah.” I lifted my chin, hoping the defiance would cover the genuine terror building up inside. “I need you to stay alive, so...just stay with me. Okay?”
“Okay. I’ll stay alive, Fearless. For you.” Then he smiled, the first smile I’d seen from him. It was so beautiful I could now see why my brother was so over the moon that he’d managed to earn a smile like that from Polo. In fact, it was so extraordinary I had the completely ill-timed and inappropriate thought that if he smiled more often, he’d be a totally hot guy. I was just getting into the age where hot guys were the most fascinating thing in the world.
Hand in hand, we slunk our way out the kitchen’s back door and down the steps that led to the kitchen garden. Almost before we were ready for it, we found the reason why everything had gone wrong. Two bodies were strewn across the garden’s main path—one of my father’s men and an unfamiliar Asian man. Then the sounds of a struggle reached us, along with the muffled pop of a silencer-equipped gun. Polo surged ahead of me around the corner, clearly following his ears and heading for the detached garage. Before I knew what he was going to do, he stopped and opened fire. I peeked over his shoulder and watched three unfamiliar men drop to the ground while my father, a bleeding Yuri and several of his security team whipped around to where we stood, freezing in place when they saw who had rescued them.
Years had passed since that day, but it didn’t matter. I still remembered that look in Polo’s eyes as if it had just happened. His announcement that he’d be the one to protect me hadn’t been throwaway words for him; they had been a sacred vow, something he cared about seeing through with all his heart. Maybe the only thing he’d cared about during that bleak time in his life. Even now, after all these years and he’d been given his freedom, he was still determined to look after me.
Why?
Do you now understand why it is that you can always count on me to protect you?
I didn’t. Not really. From that unforgettable moment when I’d met a boy whose name I hated, my feelings for him throughout that day had evolved from minute to minute—from hatred and suspicion, to compassion, to concern, to outright protectiveness when he’d seemed so helpless. Then, when he’d turned the tables on me and chose to be my protector, I’d been so grateful to have him standing with me that I’d felt a connection that had only grown over time. That was the day he’d called me Fearless, given me his rare smile, and vowed to live.
For me.
Do you now understand...
I didn’t.
But I really, really wanted to.
Polo
Sounds of construction filled the cavernous space overlooking the Chicago River and the ultra-cool restaurants and shops lining the River Walk. Working men wearing hardhats up on a cherry picker yelled to each other over the sound of air-pressurized drills as they installed a network of custom-made post-Industrial ironwork pendant lights that would hang in a random variety of levels over the main floor. Within the large, exposed-brick interior, four sets of wrought iron spiral staircases had been installed the week before, leading to the upper VIP level known as The Catwalk. The second, far more exclusive bar on that level hadn’t yet been installed since it would be fronted with a ventless, glass-enclosed gas fireplace all along the bar’s length. Neither had the hookah station been set in place due to ventilation issues, according to the building inspector. But the luxuriously upholstered built-in conversation pits—a dozen in all—were already finished, and separated from each other by thick smoked glass outlined in industrial-style frames made of black iron piping. Each thick glass panel bore the name of what was destined to be Chicago’s hottest new club.
River Styx.
As Polo looked around the huge construction site, something stirred deep in his chest. Being a night club owner and real estate developer might not have been what he’d dreamed of when he was a kid, but damn, it was satisfying to be a force that created, rather than a force that destroyed.
“The tech guys are scheduled to come in at two to make sure the dance floor’s properly hooked up to the sound system.” Alex joined Polo behind the main floor’s bar, his golden-haired lawyer-like appearance at odds with a construction site. But like his father, Alex made sure that when he was slated to work, he dressed for the occasion. “Hopefully by the end of the workday, it’ll pulse to the beat of the music, when not programmed to show specific videos of underground rivers or lava or fire, or whatever the hell that brain of yours has come up with.”
Polo had to grin at that. If this was supposed to be the River Styx, he was going to go all out with the theme. “Good to hear. How are we on staffing?”
“Ahead of schedule. Personal bottle service for the VIP level is the only thing that’s lagging. We’ve got a full roster for everything else—bartenders, general wait staff, janitorial, and security for both inside the club and outside, including the parking lot across the street. Hell, we’ve even got a hookah sommelier signed up to be onsite three nights a week, and Wyla has our bartending staff trained up on how to make our signature drinks, such as Burning Hellfire and Satan’s Black Heart.”
Polo turned to stare at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Nope.”
Holy shit. “Have you tried any of these drinks? What the fuck is Satan’s Black Heart?”
“It’s good, I approved of it myself. Black vodka, Chambord black-raspberry liqueur and a scoop of black raspberry ice cream, served in a martini glass with a black raspberry garnish.”
Polo blinked, then relaxed enough to snort. “Okay, yeah, that does sound good, though I think my testosterone levels crashed just listening to you describe it. Dash would probably go for that one.”
“Definitely a ladies drink, and I think it’s going to be a big seller,” Alex nodded, grinning. “Wyla’s a genius when it comes to this kind of thing. My two favorite vodka drinks of hers were the Hellspawn vodka shooters that were basically Grey Goose with vodka-soaked gummy bears, and a drink called River Styx Sludge. Sounds bad, but it tastes kinda like a drunk Creamcicle, with a little OJ and soda, and a shit-ton of whipped cream vodka. At least, I think that’s what I drank. By the time I got to the end of the tasting session, I was so shitfaced I couldn’t feel my lips.”
“Lightweight.”
“Hey man, at least I made it to the end of the vodka taste session, and then I got my ass outta bed the next day and went to work. Pops and Indigo taste-tested the whiskey and tequila specialties. Pops was good the next day, but this was why Indigo was out. Dude was sick as a dog after only four measly tequila drinks. Now that’s a lightweight.”
“He weighs like eighty pounds. It’s a miracle his liver didn’t crap out on him entirely.”
“I’m still gonna rag his ass about it for the next month.”
“Whatever floats your boat.” Still smiling, Polo again looked out at the huge space, seeing not a construction site but a dark and moody club filled with people and music and possibilities. “This project’s actually coming together, isn’t it?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, you worked your ass off to make it happen. Even if River Styx doesn’t catch on—something I can’t imagine ever happening—you’d still make an insane amount of money off this choice piece of real estate. The way you’ve developed this and the surrounding area is like watching a dream come true. Borysko would be proud of you, man.”
The thought of Borysko looking on with pride made something deep inside glow with warmth. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do. Knives was the son he was stuck with, but you were the son he chose, and that right there is what I call a beautiful thing.” Alex shifted closer and lowered his voice so that it was almost impossible to hear him above the drills. “Speaking of Knives...there’s a reason why the VIP bottle service roster isn’t full yet. I thought I’d better give you a heads-up before my pops mentions anything to you.”
In a heartbeat, Po
lo’s smile vanished. “Talk to me.”
“It might not be a big deal,” Alex cautioned, holding up a hand. “In fact, it probably isn’t, so don’t get excited.”
“Alex.”
“Okay.” His friend took a breath and dived in. “Pops was going over employee apps, making sure we didn’t have any whack jobs trying to get close to whatever VIP guest we’re likely to get in here. Long story short, he found a couple guys he recognized.”
“From where?”
“Knives has been building an army ever since we all cut ties with the Vitaliev Bratva. He’s recruited some muscle from lower-level rival gangs and families, and some others straight from the street. Hell, a few of them are newly released cons who don’t even know what a bratva is.”
“Jesus.” Polo shook his head. “Mixing all of society’s fuck-ups together like that...what could possibly go wrong?”
“Apparently Knives has a very different view on how the family business should be run, but since I got out of the business along with you, I’m trying not to judge. Pops, though, he keeps an eye on Knives, mainly because Pops is batshit crazy when it comes to being paranoid. In this case, though, I’m glad he’s like that. Thanks to his paranoia, he was able to identify a couple of the people who put in apps as belonging to Knives.”
In a heartbeat, Polo’s good mood vanished. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“It gets worse. One of them has a rap sheet a mile long. Dude’s been dealing drugs since he could walk. It’s his specialty.”
“Goddamn it.” He looked back out into the room, and this time he didn’t see people and possibilities. All he saw were drug deals in dark corners and O.D. victims crashing in the bathrooms. “Goddamn it.”
“Pops knows you want to keep the life you’re building for yourself—and for us—free from what the old life was like,” Alex went on when Polo didn’t say anything more. “So you should know that he didn’t hire these guys. He’s also launching deep background checks on everyone we’ve hired so far, because he wants to make sure our pool of employees hasn’t been contaminated. That’s why he’s not here now talking to you about this himself. He’s busy running everyone to ground.”
Thank God for batshit crazy Yuri. “I do not want that shit in my place, Alex. I’m not naïve—I know people are going to be stupid during a night on the town, but I’m not going to have that shit peddled under my goddamn roof like it’s all part of the service. Just one hit like that—from someone ODing on the property or the cops raiding us and finding one of our employees is dealing out of here—and River Styx is done. Fuck.” A wave of fury struck so hard that he couldn’t stop himself from pounding his fist down on the granite surface of the bar. “What the fuck is Knives thinking?”
“He’s not thinking about your best interests, that’s for sure.” Alex kept his tone neutral, but the distaste in his curled lip was hard to miss. “I know you guys are tight, and I know that in the end Borysko called you his second son. But that doesn’t make you and Knives brothers, no matter what he says.”
“Borysko was like a father to me—more than that fucker who gave me away and ate his own gun like the weak bastard he was,” Polo muttered, and the darkness that was forever inside him rose like bile in his throat. “And Knives has always been there for me, just like you.”
“Do me a favor and don’t ever compare me to that sonofabitch, all right? Not ever.”
That had Polo sliding him a measuring glance. “You’ve never been a huge fan of Knives. Gotta say, I’ve never understood why.”
Alex’s mouth tightened as if locking in words he’d no doubt been told by his old man to not “gossip” about. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head and turned to look at him, and Polo was stunned to see how pale his friend had become. “He scares me, man.”
For a second Polo thought he’d heard wrong. “Nothing scares you. You’re Yuri Rodin’s son. Shit, nothing scares you.”
“Knives Vitaliev does.”
“Why?”
Again that unresponsive tightening of the mouth, and Alex looked away as if he’d suddenly gone deaf. Damn. Yuri, master of secrets and hoarder of intel, had done a serious job on his son when it came to keeping his thoughts locked down tight.
But then Alex proved him wrong.
“Knives is the kind of man that can never just...let things go, know what I mean? He holds grudges like I’ve never seen before. You don’t, though. Your life has been one long Greek tragedy, and it’s just about the saddest fucking story I’ve ever heard, swear to Christ. But it didn’t break you, Polo. It should’ve, but it didn’t. You survived, and you adapted, and in the end you let...it...go. That’s why you’ve risen so far. You’ve triumphed in every way there is for a human being to triumph, and there’s no one on this planet who stands taller than you. Not in my eyes, anyway. I’m only going to say this once, so listen good—I’m proud as hell to know a man like you. Proud that I can call you my best friend. Pops feels the same way. It feels good to work for and with a guy you’re proud of. That’s why we chose to go with you instead of staying with Knives. No way were we going to stay with him.”
The words hit him like velvet fists, impacting emotions he didn’t even know he had, and for the first time in memory, he felt his face get warm. “It’s always good to hear you two don’t regret breaking away from the Vitaliev Bratva,” he managed, hoping the lighting was too dim for Alex to see his face. “I just don’t get what set you against Knives.”
“There was a guy my pops picked up as a snitch years ago,” came the grudging response. “He had talent, like Indigo. Kinda small, kinda rat-like. Not really noticeable, except he had these teary eyes that always stared at you like he could see every secret you ever had written all over you. That’s why my old man liked him so much. He was smart, and he could read people like nobody’s business. Better even than Pops, and that’s saying something.”
Polo frowned as a long-ago memory triggered. “Was this guy’s name Nikolai Voromin?”
Alex’s brows went up. “You met him?”
“Not really. I crossed paths with him during my training with Borysko, but I met him only that one time.” Then he smiled, thinking back. “He read people, eh? Gotta wonder if Borysko made that meeting happen, just so he could have your Voromin guy read who was who in that room.”
“Probably. Come to think of it, Nikolai was with us around the time that you were tapped to be Dasha’s main bodyguard, so that actually makes sense.”
“I don’t know what the dude would’ve seen in me when I was drunk for the first time in my life and falling asleep on my feet, so maybe not. I do know that I never saw him again after that.” Since Knives had targeted the watery-eyed Nikolai during a drunken rage, Polo figured it was best to keep that part to himself.
That sneer of Alex’s reappeared. “Yeah, well, I’m not surprised you never saw Nikolai again. That amazingly talented guy wasn’t with us for very long before Knives murdered him by stomping his fucking brains out.”
Inside Polo froze, but outwardly he didn’t blink. “What happened?”
“Don’t know how it started, but I sure as hell know how it ended. I was supposed to pick Nikolai up at the Vitaliev estate before heading on over to the Metro Club for lunch with my pops. But when I got there I couldn’t find him, so I asked around. One of the gardeners pointed me in the direction of the pool house. When I went in...” He shook his head, and this time he sucked in both his lips and bit down hard. Damn, but his father’s training was seriously kicking his ass.
After almost a minute passed, Polo took a shot in the dark. “You saw Knives murdering Voromin.”
“No, man. I saw Knives fucking Voromin.” The words came out as if Alex had suddenly lost his voice; it was nothing more than a thready rasp. “Not a problem, in the grand scheme of things. I knew Nikolai was bi—Konstantin had thought about going for him, but lost interest when he found out Nikolai had a girlfriend. I was shocked Knives swung that way, s
ince I’d never seen him show any interest in men before. If anything, I’d thought he always he had a serious hatred for anything like that, considering what happened to him when he was a kid.”
That made two of them. “What happened when he saw you?”
“He didn’t. I turned right around hung out by the pool like nothing had happened. I waited around ten minutes, then yelled out a couple times for Nikolai to sound out, making like I didn’t know where he was. Then I heard some kind of yell and an almighty a crash, and that got my ass in gear. I went running, along with the gardener guy and one of the dog handlers patrolling the grounds, so that should tell you how bad it sounded. We rushed into the pool house, and that’s when we found Knives stomping on Nikolai’s head so hard he was turning it into fucking mush. The poor guy still had his pants down around his ankles. I don’t know if he even had the time to figure out what hit him.”
“Shit.” Polo shook his head, trying to take it all in. But that was a tall order, because Alex’s tale was one hell of a lot to wrap his head around. Killing when being attacked, or going to war...that was the Vitaliev way. But this was another thing entirely. “What was Knives’s story? Did Voromin attack him?”
“Apparently Nikolai grabbed his crotch and said something about wanting to see the real Knives when he wasn’t lying to himself and the rest of the world. So Knives said he showed Nikolai who and what he really was to people who were stupid enough to touch him without permission. Then he laughed and asked what was for lunch. I shit you not, he actually asked what was for lunch while standing right there in Nikolai’s brains. It was like he honestly believed he hadn’t done anything wrong. Like he had every right to stomp some guy’s head into the floor because he’s holding a grudge against people who hurt him over a decade ago. And that’s why I say he scares me, Polo. Anyone who thinks like that scares me.”
Polo nodded slowly while the words resonated through his head.
Chapter Eleven
“Stop yawning.” Yawning hugely myself, I smacked Konstantin’s elbow as he sat behind the wheel of his magnificent electric blue Wraith. Outside the window, the tree-studded landscape flew by as we left the heart of the city behind, and headed toward Sherwood Indoor Shooting Range. “It’s not even that early in the morning.”