The War: Bratva Blood Two : (A dark mafia romance)

by SR Jones

  Allyov has got himself and his immediate family, plus five of his close personal protection men on a private jet to his rural retreat in Russia. It’s apparently what he does when danger comes too close.

  So now I’ve got an army, and a war with a man I had no beef with before last week. The head of the fucking Armenian mob.

  Cassie slumps forward, and I catch her. “She’s gone, fainted,” I tell Andrius, an edge of panic to my voice. I think she’s in shock. Shock in extreme circumstances can kill.

  A paramedic rushes over and takes her from me, and she’s laid gently on the floor as they proceed to monitor her. When she comes to with a groan, they tell her to stay lying down, while a blood pressure cuff is attached.

  “Broke my fucking nose,” Andrius grouses, dragging my attention from Cassie. Then he turns to tall, dark and Yorkshire in the corner; the man who fired on Tigran, and asks the question I think we all want answered. “Who the fuck are you? Why did you fire on your own man?” We’re all still in this room, still facing off as the paramedics work around us.

  The mysterious Yorkshire man sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “More like who the fuck are you? Two years of my life down the drain.”

  “Liam. I’m Special Forces and now head of a security operation.” Liam steps forward and speaks directly to Yorkshire, taking over the conversation. “This is part of an operation we’ve been working on.”

  “No, it’s not,” Yorkshire says. “That’s what I’m doing. And I would know if anyone else had their fingers in this particular pie. So, who the hell are you? You’re a strange merry band; it has to be said.” He gestures to all our men.

  “Who do you work for?” Liam demands, as bold as brass.

  “I don’t need to tell you anything, pal. But you better start talking and fast because if not, you’re going to have the top levels of British state security on you.”

  “I don’t have time for this,” I say as the paramedics start to prepare Cassie for transport. “I need to go to the hospital with Cassie. I have a man there who might be dead by the time I arrive too.”

  “You’ll be hearing from me, and this isn’t something I’m going to let go lightly,” Yorkshire says. “I expect to be owed for this.”

  “Owed?” I ask, genuinely dumbfounded at his arrogance. If he’s British Intelligence, then he understands the links I have in this nation.

  He smiles, and it’s one I recognize. The smile of a predator. “I don’t care who you know, Konstantin. Your pally dinners with the PM won’t save you now. You either help me, or you face me and my team, digging into your life with unparalleled zeal. Do you understand?”

  “Understood.” I don’t have time to argue with this fucker now, but he’ll soon learn that people don’t get away with threatening me.

  “What’s your name?” Andrius demands of him.

  “Marcus.” He faces Andrius totally unafraid, which not many people do. Christ, this guy has balls the size of a bull.

  I turn and follow the paramedics who are loading Cassie into the ambulance on a stretcher. I can’t help but smile as the sound of her complaining that she’s perfectly able to walk reaches me.

  “You coming, Andrius?” I ask.

  “Yeah, need to speak to a plastic surgeon about my nose,” he grumbles.

  “You need checking too,” a paramedic says to Reece, who gives a nod and follows us. We all head outside, with Liam and his team member, Luka, following us.

  Liam holds me back for a moment, as the paramedics get our wounded into assorted ambulances. “I’ll stay and try to clear things up with Marcus, our new friend, but it won’t be easy. Can I offer him anything from you two?” Liam asks me and Andrius.

  “You can tell him we want the Armenians gone too, so we’re on the same side. I presume the British Intelligence service aren’t so choosey as to care whether the Armenian leaders are jailed or dealt with in a more Russian manner?” I say. “If they are causing havoc here in the UK, then our goals align in wanting them gone. The Brits don’t have to get their hands dirty because we’ll do it for them. Marcus would have spent another year of his life trying to get intelligence on the top man. Whereas we are going to take him out.”

  “You’re going to take out the top Armenian?” Marcus appears at the door, his face set in an incredulous expression. “How will you get to him? Fucker is the most paranoid bastard you could ever wish to meet. Never lets anyone into his inner circle he doesn’t know, trust, or need something from. He’s surrounded by military grade security. I’m in that inner circle, fucker. And yes, our interests do align. They’ve been involved in human trafficking. Not the sex ring kind, but the forced labor, working on illegal farms picking crops for nothing more than a sleeping bag in an empty stable and a cold shower with a hose every morning, kind. It’s disgusting some of the shit we discovered when we raided a farm, and the Armenians are the ones facilitating it. Most of them are working in the north, but they also bring in domestic servants; the kind who find their passports gone after they arrive, and they’re expected to work for years to pay off the debt of getting here. So, yes, our goals align. I want these fuckers stopped, but you would need an army.”

  “We’re SAS and SBS,” Liam says, pointing to his men. “Konstantin and Andrius are Spetsnaz. We aren’t afraid of how well trained his men are. If we can get to him, we can deal with him.”

  We? Is Liam saying he and his men are in on helping us with this?

  “We?” Andrius turns to Liam and voices my thoughts.

  “Not happy about having people traffickers operating with impunity. These guys will be only one amongst many, but if it’s a big operation and we take it down, that’s lives saved. No? It’s what we signed up for when we joined the military. My men can decide whether they want to be in on this or not, as it will be dangerous, but I’m here to help when I can. I have other work, and commitments to fit around, but I’ll do what I can.”

  “Yep.” That contribution is from Ethan, and Luka nods.

  “I don’t like the fact they’re operating heavily in Yorkshire,” Liam adds. “I live there, and I want that scum out of the area.”

  “You said we owed you,” I say to Marcus, impatient to get in the ambulance with Cassie who is answering a stream of questions from the paramedic, who then checks things off on a list attached to a clipboard. “If we shut these guys down, is that payment enough? Means you don’t have to waste more months of your life embedded with this scum, trying to get all the intel. You can go home to your wife or girlfriend and have your dick sucked for a month straight instead.”

  “No wife or girlfriend,” he says. “And I’m not walking away from this, but I’m willing to contemplate a temporary working relationship. You need me. You aren’t getting close to him, but I already am. You need to shoot me, though, make it look like I’ve been injured in the gunfight. Make it a graze or a minor wound, though. Can any of you fuckers do that?”

  “I can.” Andrius grins, and it’s one that would scare me, but Marcus grins back.

  “Do your worst. I’ll be in touch, at some point.”

  “Fine.” I’m losing my last shred of patience. “Call me or Andrius. Set up a meet, but right now, I’ve got to fucking go.”

  He nods and shakes his head as the cops arrive, late as ever. I climb into the back of the ambulance and sit by Cassie as the paramedic continues doing whatever checks it is he needs completed before we can set off.

  As the cops approach, I hear Marcus order them, “These guys can’t go into regular custody. You need to hold them here until MI5 and some of your NCIS guys get here. They can’t be processed in the normal way. There are people on their way here now. All you have to do is help me sit on these guys until they get here. Oh, and this Russian fucker is going to shoot me in a minute, and you won’t do anything about it, understood?”

  MI5? Fucking marvelous. So now I’ve got to work with British Intelligence in bringing down the Armenian mob? That will fuck my reputation and fra
nkly be dangerous for me and Andrius going forward. I can’t work with Marcus. Not openly.

  He comes to the ambulance, and looks at me through the open doors, as if he’s seen my internal thoughts. “Don’t worry,” he tells me with a big grin, voice quiet, “I’m not MI5. I was simply working with them on this.”

  “What are you then?”

  “I get paid to help where it’s needed,” is all the reply I get.

  So, he’s a mercenary. That’s good news. I won’t be kneecapped by my fellow Bratva if it ever got out I worked with a gun for hire to bring down the Armenians. It would simply be territory war, unlike working with the state against them.

  “Shoot me in the arm or the leg. Make it a graze somewhere it won’t do any real damage,” Marcus says to Andrius.

  Andrius calmly takes out his gun and does exactly what Marcus asks.

  The Brit turns to one of the paramedics who’s running toward him. “Leave it, I’ve got to patch this up myself,” he says through gritted teeth.

  Cassie whimpers, and I focus on her. I see the shock she must be feeling written all over her face.

  “We can go,” the paramedic says to the driver as he reaches past me to close the heavy ambulance doors, shutting the violence and mayhem out. For an eerie moment there’s nothing but silence, and then we’re crunching and bouncing over gravel as we head down the single track to the main road.

  I look at Cassie who is still pale, but thankfully her eyes are much more alert. She’s lost that glassy, dazed expression.

  “You need to know something,” I tell her. “There’s going to be much crap coming at us the next few days, but you’ll be safe with me. I’m upgrading the security system, and no bastard will get in moving forward.”

  “I’m not staying with you.” She tries to sit up, but the paramedic pushes her back down gently.

  “Of course you are,” I scoff. “Where else would you go?”

  “I’m safe now. Popov is…” She glances at the paramedic and then chooses her words carefully. “He’s not a danger to me any longer. I can go home.”

  I stare at her, nonplussed. I came for her. I put together an army to save her. Does she think she gets to leave now?

  Why would she want to? It’s still not safe. She’s staying with me until it is, whether she wants to or not.

  “Did you hear what I said to you in there?” I demand. “Everything I said to Tigran was a fucking ruse. I did it to protect you, and then I assembled an army to rescue you. You don’t get to walk away.”

  “I appreciate it, I do,” she says. “But I have to go home now. I can’t cope with this anymore.”

  “It’s not safe,” I snap. “We’re not discussing this any further right now; it’s hardly the time or the place.” I throw a pointed glance at the paramedic.

  She shuts up, but her expression is stubborn, and I know she’ll be mulling over all the reasons she thinks she gets to go home in her pretty little head. It’s irrelevant because she’s staying with me.

  We arrive at the hospital, and she gets whisked away.

  I take a seat in that damn soul-destroying, waiting room, and I wait. At some point Liam, Luka, and Ethan all turn up and take seats dotted around. Andrius must have come in one of the other ambulances because he appears out of the back area an hour later, and his eyes are already darkening. Shit, I’ve fucked his face up good and proper. Reece is still being seen to.

  He sits next to me and gives me a livid look. “Don’t need a nose job,” he says in English. “They re-set it with local anesthetic.” He’s talking as if he’s got a raging cold, probably due to the cotton wool stuffed in his nostrils.

  Ethan bursts out laughing.

  “What’s so fucking funny?” Andrius demands.

  “Nothing, just you crying about your nose. Big hard, Spetsnaz, best training in the world. Yeah right. You wouldn’t get us boys crying over a broken bone, eh lads?” He looks to the men around him.

  “You want me to break your nose, so we can find out for sure?” Andrius offers sweetly.

  Silence.

  “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

  Ethan huffs and stands, stretching. “I’m going to call Isla. Anyone want anything to eat or drink? I’ll pass the canteen on my way back.”

  “Coke,” I say.

  “Me too,” Andrius says. “Diet.”

  “Watching your figure, now your pretty face is ruined?”

  Ethan dodges out of the way of the half-assed kick Andrius aims his way.

  When he’s gone, Andrius turns to me. “His wife, Isla, she is very much like my Violet. You will maybe meet her one day, but she’s got a similar look to her, and she’s also sweet the same way. She’s young too, like Violet. Like Cassie,” he adds, and I don’t get what he’s trying to say.

  “He’s a dick,” he adds. “Moody, but he takes care of Isla.”

  “Are you saying I don’t take care of Cassie?” I ask, anger simmering at his words.

  “I’m saying, maybe you need to decide if you want to take care of her, and for how long, and what that means.”

  “I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”

  “Yeah, you do,” he replies. “Don’t make this turn into some women’s chat where we go on about our feelings for three hours.”

  “Well, she hates me, so it’s irrelevant.”

  He chuckles at that and switches to Russian, still keeping his voice low. “Do you know what Ethan did for a living when he met Isla?”

  “No.”

  “He was a whore.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. Isla hated it, hated him, from what they’ve told me since. But they got over it, and now they are very happy. Too many dogs, if you ask me, but they’re happy. Liam, he met his lady when he was supposedly spying on her. He followed her, stalked her is more apt, and she hated him too. Now they are very happy. Both of them had to decide what they wanted, though, as did I with Violet.”

  “What the fuck are you trying to say?”

  He sighs and faces me. “You can’t simply keep Cassie like a pet. You either let her go, or accept you feel something for her.”

  “You sound ridiculous,” I snap. “Shut up with the life advice crap; it doesn’t suit you. The only feeling I have for Cassie is my responsibility to keep her safe, and the way my cock feels about her.”

  Andrius has the gall to look disappointed in me, before he shrugs and gets his phone out.

  Fuck him. Who does he think he is doling out life advice? He got given his precious Violet, like a box of chocolates, so he doesn’t get to tell me what to do.

  A doctor comes into the room. “Mr. Silvanov?”

  I stand.

  “You can see Ms. Evans now.”

  Chapter Four

  Cassie

  I will be strong in the face of his overwhelming presence, I tell myself as footsteps approach.

  I will not let Konstantin bully me any longer.

  The curtain swishes back, and he steps into the hospital bay. It’s a small space, made even more so by his size and that crackling energy he carries with him at all times. It’s as if he’s so pissed off at the world that he gives off angry static.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks.

  “Okay,” I reply. “I’m worried, though, about my grandpa. Are he and Grandma safe from this?”

  “Yes, of course. Damen muddied your ties to them, and the phone you call them on is a burner. They’re as safe as I can make them.”

  “But I can’t see them yet, not while this new stuff is going on?”

  “No, Cassie.” He shakes his head. “I’m truly sorry, but no, you can’t see them at the moment. Once I’ve dealt with the Armenians, you should be safe to do so, though.”

  I take in a deep breath and say the thing I’ve been dreading. “Will you pay for me to stay in a safe house or something until this is over?” I ask.

  “You’re coming home with me, don’t need a safehouse,” he replies.

  “I’m no
t,” I say. “I can’t, Konstantin, it’s all … too much. It’s scary and strange in your world, and I don’t belong.”

  “It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

  “If I come back, we’re finished.”

  He laughs softly. “Oh, no, we’re not.”

  “In what ways do you torture people?” I ask.

  His face tightens, and his lips flatten to a straight line of pure rage. “Excuse me?”

  “How do you do it?”

  “You don’t need to know that.”

  “Do you have their fingernails pulled out?”

  He winces. “No.”

  “Do you waterbond them?”

  He chuckles at that, some of the anger leeching from his features. “It’s waterboard, Cassie, and no. I don’t torture people.”

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise at his words.

  “Liza knows fuck all about me. I presume that’s where all this is coming from?” He leans into me and fixes me with eyes that are gray not blue, and I know that means he’s pissed. “I don’t torture people, Cassie. Do you want to know why?”

  I nod.

  “It’s not effective,” he says simply. “I might give someone a slap, a few hits, put the fear of God into them to get them to talk, but actual torture? Breaking someone down? It’s not effective. They’ll tell you anything in the end. When we are trained in evade and capture, we’re trained to play for time in any captivity situation. That’s so our side has time to find us before any torture begins because most people will break eventually. And most people will break a lot more quickly than in the stupid movies.”

  “Including you?” I ask.

  “Including me.”

  “So no torture, but you have killed. Have you ever raped anyone?”

  He stands and then sweeps the plastic jug and glass off the table by my bed, sending them clattering into the wall. Thank God, I’d already had the water in the jug, or it would have made a mess. Footsteps sound, and a nurse pulls back the screen.