Not that Luka could blame him for this. They were both a product of the men who made them.
It just so happened that Luka was to blame for the anger Klaus carried around. At least partially to blame. There were others he’d made a target of first.
In comparison, Luka had gotten off light, but whenever Luka and Klaus crossed paths there was always a considerable tension between the pair, one that most ignored. No one really wondered why, especially with Luka’s personality and Klaus’ predilection for anger, but only known to the pair of them was why exactly there was that tension.
A few weeks ago, Klaus had asked him to come out and meet him, and not seeing much of a choice, Luka had obeyed, but it hadn’t been as innocent as he had hoped.
Luka approached him, hands in his pockets, his eyebrows drawing together. “Having a bad day?”
The look he shot him would have quelled a lesser man, but Luka was immune. Klaus, who had the look of a man who had come to this place on a mission, didn’t bother speaking. He just marched toward Luka, landing a solid punch to his face and knocking him back a step though the motion didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. His gaze intent on Luka, there was a fire in his eyes that was usually kept hidden, but tonight it was out in full force.
A solid punch to the face knocked Luka off balance, but the force behind it might have thrown a lesser man. He’d grown up fighting, battling in enough grisly matches that he hardly felt the pain of it. That wasn’t to say he was unaffected. He did feel it, but it didn’t process the same, and for most people, that was unfathomable.
But Klaus knew Luka better than anyone else. Maybe because of the information he’d dug up on him…Maybe because they were cut from the same cloth, forced into a life neither had chosen, and for that reason, Klaus wouldn’t be able to quell his rage by simply beating the shit out of him.
No, Klaus needed to best him, to prove to himself—because he couldn’t give a shit what Luka thought of him—that he was no longer that weak.
Klaus stepped back, his arms falling to his sides. For all appearances, he might have looked unguarded, but Luka knew that stance for the deception it was.
“Fight back.” The command was said slowly, carefully, as if it was as much of a request as it was plea.
When he’d first returned and Luka had shown him the branding on his side, one of two that he’d actually didn’t try to cover, there was an understanding between them. But there was only so much that Klaus could do. If he was anything like Luka, then he was constantly bombarded by memories of a time he’d rather forget, and the only way to purge it was to retaliate against those that had wronged him.
Getting hit in the face, not to mention the taunt, made the age old need for violence flicker to life inside of him, but he tamped it down, keeping his hands at his sides even as they twitched. Whether or not Klaus would agree, Luka owed this to him.
A blood debt could only be resolved by answering in blood.
Luka, who’d straightened, shrugged a shoulder, still not making a move against him, not ready to retaliate. There would come a point when he would, so long as Klaus kept hitting him, but he wasn’t at that point yet.
Klaus looked mildly annoyed but didn’t stay that way for long before he was launching his fists again, one to Luka’s face, the other to his body, but instead of pulling back as he’d done before, he kept hitting, landing blow after blow, faster than even Luka had realized.
It only took a split second to finally set him off, and if asked, he wouldn’t have been able to say what it was that had been the trigger, but once it happened, he didn’t force it back down, he happily and willingly embraced it.
Catching Klaus’ fist, Luka twisted, shoving him back. At this point, this was no longer a fair fight. This was about survival. If there was going to be someone who made it out of this alive, then Luka was determined to be that person, even if Klaus had to die.
By the end of it, however, they were both bloody, but alive.
And since then, things had been strained—as they probably always would be—but at least they were cordial.
Klaus was leaning against the side of Luka’s truck, wearing his usual attire of all black, the hood of his leather jacket up, partially obscuring his face, but there was no mistaking who he was. Luka knew he could recognize him anywhere.
“Something I can do for you?” Luka asked when he was only a few feet away.
When they weren’t around the others, Luka didn’t go out of his way to be friendly with Klaus. While he did actually like the mercenary, it was hard to know which side of Klaus one would get on any given day. He liked to tread carefully, just in case Klaus finally did decide to snap and kill him.
“Calling in that favor.”
Luka frowned.
Months ago, when Klaus had reappeared in the city, bringing back memories better left buried, they had inevitably crossed paths. In exchange for him keeping Luka’s secrets—the fact that Luka had been the one to torture the hell out of him, though it was really Mishca who was meant to be in that chair—Luka would owe him a debt to be collected at a later date. He had never forgotten this obligation to him—how could he since they were constantly around each other—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious as to why it was being collected now.
“Why?”
Klaus frowned, though he didn’t look particularly angry. “Does it matter?”
“Depends. When I finish whatever this favor is, how do I know what you’ll do after?”
Now Klaus was smirking. “I wouldn’t kill you. Lauren likes you.”
“And that matters to you?”
In answer, he shrugged.
“I mean if you’re in love with the boss’ wife, who am I to judge? Kind of weird though right? For all you know, she could be thinking of you while—”
“It amazes me that you’ve lived this long. Honestly.” Electing to ignore his comments, Klaus reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling a picture free.
He flipped it over, showing Luka the black and gray image, the subject of it unaware that they were followed as they were on the phone about to climb into a black truck, but more than that, seeing the person depicted there felt like something was constricting Luka’s heart.
Both feelings of hatred and fondness came over him as Luka steeled himself, knowing that Klaus was waiting for a reaction from him. It had been years since Luka had seen the man in the image. In that time, Luka had carefully buried as much of his former life as he could, and that meant trying his hardest to forget this one person, a person who was very much like him, but worse.
A person who had helped him torture Klaus, though it could be said that he’d enjoyed it far more than Luka did.
In fact, if there were anyone that enjoyed hurting people a little too much, it would be him.
Stalling for time, Luka reached around Klaus, tossing the duffel he carried into the backseat.
“What about him?” he asked after he had a moment to collect himself.
“Your life for his.”
Grinding his teeth, Luka couldn’t help glancing back toward the building he’d just come out of, wondering if they were being watched. It wasn’t uncommon for them to be around each other, especially with Klaus hanging around more, but it only took one person being a little too curious for secrets to become exposed, and he really didn’t need that.
“I help you find him and you’ll let me live, is that right?”
Klaus shook his head, pocketing the picture. “Not at all. I don’t need you to find him. I’ve found the rest of your lot just fine, I need to know everything about his operation.”
Now, it was Luka’s turn to look confused. “What operation?”
Klaus’ head canted to the side in that eerie way of his, as if he was trying to gauge whether Luka was lying to him. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“Your friend here has taken over for the Besniks since their unfortunate passing”—he didn’t make it s
ound unfortunate at all—“and because of it, he made his first mistake.” Klaus patted the pocket of his jacket. “He came out of hiding.”
“Why the fuck would he do that?”
Though he asked the question aloud, it was more to himself than to Klaus. Since the night he turned his back on the Organization, Klaus hadn’t given much thought to what the others had done in his absence…maybe except for Fatos. Not a day went by that Luka hadn’t thought about seeing his face again, and what he would do when he saw him. While he felt an immeasurable amount of anger toward his old friend, there was that old lingering feeling of sadness. There was a time when Fatos was the only friend he had, and sometimes, especially because he knew him so well, he missed that companionship.
But with Klaus wanting him dead, the likelihood of a happy reunion was slim.
“Probably looking for you. Tell me, have you done anything to get the Albanians’ attention?”
Immediately, he thought of the night he’d tried to help Alex, searching for answers to fix a situation that needed to be handled. A single night when he had almost gone too far in regards to Alex, but not far enough when it came to Bastian.
When he thought about it hard enough, he could still remember the warmth of the slick blood coating his skin when he cut Bastian’s back up, and then when he’d made it a point to cut the man’s tongue out, taking a bit too much satisfaction in watching him choke to death.
It wasn’t like the Organization didn’t know where he was…Or maybe Jetmir hadn’t bothered to share this information, and practically everyone that had been there that night was dead…except for Fatos.
Had he made a mistake by killing one of the highest-ranking members of the Organization?
Maybe.
“You want him,” Luka said, “get him yourself.”
Smirking, Klaus asked, “Is that your final answer?”
Shrugging, Luka didn’t bother answering, circling his truck to hop in, wanting to ignore Klaus entirely, but it was hard ignoring someone like him.
Shaking his head, Klaus leaned in t the passenger door window. “After all he’s done, you still won’t betray him?”
Grinding his teeth, Luka stared straight ahead, thinking of a time when things hadn’t been so complicated. “No more than I would betray Mishca.”
“Yet, one gave you life, the other took it away.”
Starting the engine, Luka put the car in drive, sparing Klaus one last glance. “We haven’t reached the end yet. That answer’s still in the air.”
____
Luka didn’t like something about motorcycle clubs. He couldn’t explain the notion, especially when he could think of a few members who he thought were okay, but the premise of them didn’t sit well with him.
Despite his reservations, Luka went in to conduct business, feeling the eyes on him as he followed the president to a back room where they worked out the remaining details. A few other men trailed behind them, but if there was one thing he was sure of, they wouldn’t try to ambush him.
While the president went to a safe embedded in the wall, punching in a code to open it up, Luka rocked back on his heels, whistling softly as he shoved his hands into his pockets.
He was ready to leave, had never particularly cared for this job at all really, but that was the name of the job. Money switched hands, product handed over, and Luka was almost out of there, but at the last moment, he glanced over when he heard the sharp sound of laughter coming from his right.
He expected some girl in way over her head being mauled by a pair of the men who called this place their home, but he wasn’t expecting that girl to be Alex. She was sitting up on a barstool, her back toward the wall though she was mostly slumped forward, her head lolling on her shoulders.
He could get past this if she were sober, if she were aware of what was happening around her. He had no right to tell her what to do, even if the sight of her with anyone else irritated the shit out of him. But the fact that she was hardly conscious as the idiot standing between her legs groped her, pulling at the straps of her dress until she was bare from the waist up, sent a familiar fury settling inside of him as his only focus became getting to her.
Luka didn’t remember dropping the bag full of cash on the ground, nor did he remember pulling out the pair of guns he always carried with him. One minute he was intent on leaving, the next he had fired off a number of rounds, perfectly calculated to hit the patched in members who were closest to Alex. They weren’t kill shots despite his need for that, just close enough to get their attention.
Chaos ensued as women scattered and men grappled for their guns. Before any of them could even think of pulling the trigger, Luka was across the room, snatching the man away from Alex who was a little slow to the fact that bullets were flying.
When Luka spun him around, he cursed, his movements sluggish as he tried to get free, but undeterred, Luka palmed the back of his head and slammed him face first onto the pool table.
“You’ve got a fucking death wish!” he grumbled as he shot back, trying to gain his footing, cupping his nose as blood flowed.
“The fuck is your problem, Russian?” one of them demanded.
Not bothering to correct that assumption, Luka turned back to the president of this little biker gang, not giving a shit that there were at least twenty guns on him. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed uncaring of the threat on his life that made them glance at each other, unsure of what he was capable of.
They had no idea.
Nodding his head in Alex’s direction, Luka said, “She’s coming with me.”
“Bullshit,” the one who’d been with Alex said as he circled the table, more sure of himself now that he had his little army. “I say she fucking stays. Why don’t we ask her who she wants to stay with.”
The question only managed to piss Luka off more. “You don’t know who she is.”
“If she’s your bitch,” the president said, “then learn how to control her.”
She wasn’t Luka’s at all, but the words were at the tip of his tongue. “She’s Volkov’s little sister.”
Luka’s actions might have gotten their attention, but his words were enough to put fear in their hearts. They weren’t stupid, none of them could take on the Bratva and live to see the end of it.
There was never a day when Luka thought that he would have to use the Volkov name to get him out of a bind. He was plenty terrifying on his own, but if he wanted to get Alex out of there safely, then he had to do this the right way with minimum bloodshed.
“Now, you have one choice. I’ll take her out of here and I won’t mention this to my boss, or I shoot you and then we’ll leave.”
“You can’t take all of us.”
Of course, this intelligent answer came from the one person who Luka was itching to kill. Gun still in hand, he closed the distance between them, all too aware of the others aiming at him, but he paid them no mind. He grabbed hold of the man’s cut, jerking him forward and off balance.
Luka held the gun pressed to his head, not caring that there were at least four others pointed at him in return. He wasn’t outmatched, but he had someone other than himself to think about, and despite that dark desire in him that was begging for a fight, he had to let this one go.
“You think you don’t know fear,” Luka said, speaking so only he could hear. “But you don’t know what I’m capable of. When I catch back up with you—and I promise I will—I’m going to put a bullet in both your fucking knees, and by the end of the night, you’ll beg me to kill you.”
“Snow,” the president snapped, breaking up their moment. “Find another bitch for the night.”
Snow was still smirking, trying to keep face for his brothers around him, but Luka could practically smell the stench of unease on him now. He didn’t know how long it would take, whether a day or a year, but Luka was going to pay him a visit, and when he did, he would purge every demon inside of him.
____
There were a number of tra
ffic laws broken as Luka raced from the warehouse, his mind going just as fast as he tried to think of how best to handle this. This wasn’t the first time he had been around someone who used drugs, but it was the first person he cared about.
Mishca would overreact and make the situation worse, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with Klaus, so without any other options, he took her to the only place that was secluded enough for him to take care of her.
His own place.
He gunned the engine, constantly looking down at his lap to make sure that she was okay where her head rested on his leg, but with how still she was, he worried whether or not she was still breathing. When his place came into view, he threw his Jeep into park and hurried around to Alex’s side to pull her out.
Gingerly lifting her over his shoulder, he kept an arm around her legs as he walked the short distance to his house.
Getting the door open one-handed was a bit of a challenge, but he managed it. Luka kicked the door shut with his foot, not bothering to lock it behind him as he carried her up the stairs, heart hammering in his chest. He tried to center his thoughts and focus on the task at hand, but having her over his shoulder, hardly moving at all, his emotions were too chaotic. He was too invested in this, in her, to turn it all off as he had done so many times in the past.
Not giving it a second thought, he took her to his bedroom, dropping her on the bed, but immediately gripped her shoulders to force her back up.
But she was still limp.
“Shit…shit.”
Picking her back up, he carried her into the bathroom, nearly tripping in his haste to get the shower on, freezing water streaming from above. He sat with her in his arms, the water immediately soaking through their clothes.
“Alex, wake up.”
He was freezing, water droplets falling in his eyes, no matter how often he wiped them away. When she still didn’t stir, he raised his hand to her face and smacked her though he didn’t put much power behind it, his hand shaking too badly.
Hidden Monsters (Volkov Bratva Book 4) Page 10