by Jagger Cole
“See you in hell,” the man chuckles. He grabs something from his belt. He pulls the pin out of it and chucks it into the bedroom. I takes me half a second to realize it’s a grenade. The two of them drag Katrina kicking and screaming over the railing as the grenade skitters to a stop at my feet.
A body slams into me like a fucking truck. I grunt and hit the floor next to the bed just as the grenade explodes. All I see is fire. All I hear is a ringing sound, and then everything goes dark.
16
Katrina
Ropes dig into my wrists. Others cut into my ankles. I squirm and strain against them. But they’re tight, and I know I’m not going anywhere. I’m trying to stay calm. I’m trying not to hyperventilate. But it’s a little hard given what’s just happened to me. The cloth bag over my head that puts me in total darkness doesn’t exactly help.
“Made in Russia, those knots.” I hear Pavel’s voice from behind me. The nearness of him makes me recoil. “With love, from Russia,” he chuckles. “Unlike all this American bullshit in this country, those will last. You will not slip your way out of these.”
He leans close. I flinch, and my stomach heaves when I feel his breath on my neck. “You can suck as much mafioso kingpin dick as you want, little devochka,” he hisses. “But it’s not going to free you from me.”
“What do you want,” I snap.
Pavel chuckles behind me. I hear his footsteps moving around to my side. Then in front. Then to the other side. He’s circling me as he chuckles deeply. I feel like there’s a shark circling me, ready to bite.
“Relax,” he purrs. “I don’t want to hurt you. There are…” he snickers. “There are many other things I would like to do to you instead, of course.” He steps close to me. I flinch and tense, which just makes him chuckle again. “You’ve never been with a Russian man, little devochka. Only that greasy Italian cocksucker,” he spits. “I could show you how a Russian man fucks.”
“If this Russian man screws as bad as his breath smells,” I hiss. “I’ll pass.”
There’s silence. I wince and close my eyes, ready for a hit. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he just laughs.
“You have fire in you now!” Pavel chortles. “This is new, dah? Maybe that cocksucker fucked some sass into you!”
“Fuck you,” I spit.
Pavel chuckles. When I feel his hand on my arm, I recoil sharply. But that just makes him chuckle some more.
“I am… what is the phrase? I am between a rock and the ground.”
“A hard place,” I mutter.
“What?”
“It’s ‘between a rock and a hard place.’”
“Ahh, yes, yes. A rock and a hard place. I am out of runway.”
“What do you want from me?” I whisper. “What does this have to do with me?”
“You are a Korolyov.”
Technically not anymore. But I don’t mention that. “And?”
“And it is Anton that I am out of runway with.”
I frown under the cloth over my face.
“I am making a… how do you say, a lateral move.”
“You’re leaving my uncle’s organization?”
He chuckles. “Sort of. But it’s more that your uncle is leaving his own organization.” Pavel snickers. “With expedience.”
I blink quickly. “You’re… are you going to kill him?”
Pavel sighs. Suddenly, I feel his hand grip the cloth. He yanks it free. I blink quickly as the dim lights blind me after darkness. When I can see again, I tremble. Pavel has always looked at me with crazy eyes. Right now, though, he looks maniacal.
“Yes,” he says bluntly. “Anton no longer trusts me.”
“And why would that be?”
He shrugs. “Probably because he suspects I am talking with the FBI.”
My brows raise. “Are you?”
He grins. “At times. So, sadly, your uncle must go. Before he makes me go.” He chuckles. “Don’t pretend to be sad. We both know your uncle is a piece of shit who you don’t like anyways.”
He’s right. I have no love for my uncle. But family is still family. I guess a part of me still feels terrible knowing what’s planned for Anton’s future.
“So,” Pavel rubs his hands together. “Anton goes. I help guide the Korolyov organization into becoming a smaller part of the Ivanovich family.”
“With you in charge?” I spit.
He smiles. “No. But Sasha?” He laughs. “A very useful idiot. An eager moron. He is malleable. It is best to have a Korolyov at the head of the Korolyov family, no?” He smiles. “But one that I speak through.”
I stare at him in shock. I’ve always known Pavel was a lunatic. But this is insane.
He balks at me. “What? This makes me a monster to you? Me?” He snorts. “Look at who you’re fucking married to! Micheal Genovese? The iron hand of the Scaliami family?” He sneers. “He murdered his fucking wife, you know.”
My lip curls back. “No, he didn’t,” I hiss. “You did.”
Pavel slowly smiles. It’s as if it’s his way of not bothering to deny it any further. Instead, he just shrugs. “Funny, isn’t it?”
“What is, you asshole?” I sneer.
“That I’m making a habit of that.”
“Of—”
“Of killing the women married to Micheal Genovese.”
I freeze. I feel cold all over when I realize what he’s saying.
“Pavel…”
“You know, I have tried before.” He waves his hand. “Not while you were Micheal’s wife. Many years ago. I’ve planned for this for a long time. But I have tried before.”
I stare at him, trembling. “What?”
He grins. “It seems you are fireproof, little devochka.”
Th weight of his words crushes me. “You…”
“Yes, me,” he snarls. “But this time, I will not fail. This time,” he growls. He puts his hands on my wrists and leans close to me. I flinch away, and he smiles.
“This time, I will not.”
“He’ll come for me,” I spit. “Micheal. He’ll find out where I am, and he’ll—”
“I am counting on it, devochka,” Pavel hisses. “Very much so.”
17
Micheal
I blink. For a second, I wonder if I’m dead. But then I realize I can hear a voice far away yelling my name as if through a wall. I’m being shaken, and I blink my eyes again. They stay open this time, and I look up.
I’m on the floor. There’s smoke and dust everywhere. Dominic is looking down at me. Blood trickles down the side of his temple. There are burn barks on his suit and black marks on his face.
I suddenly lurch to my feet. But my head spins and I stagger. Dominic swears and catches me. When I look around the carnage of the room, my heart stops. The whole bedroom is destroyed: blackened and ripped through by the blast. There’s a crater in the wood floor, the windows are shattered, and the doors to the balcony are blown off. Christ, the fucking bed is smoldering.
But most importantly, Katrina is gone.
I groan. I start to stagger to the balcony. But pain blares through me. I hiss and stumble. But Dominic is there again, catching me. He eases me to the floor, swearing.
“Christ, Mr. Genovese,” he mutters. “You’ve gotta stay down—”
“Where the fuck is she?!” I roar.
His jaw is tight. I can see in his eyes that he gets my fury and pain. “Unmarked white van. Best I can tell is they hit the front gates hard, came in shooting. The two in here came in with that fucking crate.” He nods through the ruined doors to the middle room. But I turn to look at the man I used as a shield, lying dead on the ground. Rest in hell, I mutter to myself.
More of my men suddenly flood into the room with guns. Dominic barks orders, calling them over.
“Mr. Genovese,” he growls. “I need you to lie down.”
“Like hell,” I snarl. “Get a crew together. Get everyone.” My jaw grinds. “Anton Korolyov just declared war. H
e’s getting a fucking nuke shoved up his ass.” I try and stand again, but pain cuts through me.
“Sir,” Dominic grunts. “Lie down.”
“They took my wife, Dom!” I roar. “I’m going after—”
“Micheal, look at yourself.”
I blink. I look down. Holy shit. I’m covered in blood, and I realize it’s my own.
“Shrapnel. Well, ball bearings,” Dominic mutters. He nods to his own arm, dripping with blood. “Fuckers used a claymore grenade.” He glares around the room. “Someone call a fucking doctor!” He bellows. “Now!”
“No.” I groan, but I push off the floor. I sit up, wincing. Then I get to my feet. Dominic stares at me, but he doesn’t try and stop me. I glare at him. “They took Katrina, Dom,” I hiss. “They took my wife. There is no goddamn way I’m lying here waiting for a fucking doctor. Is that understood?”
He nods. “Yes, sir.”
“If you try and stop me, I’ll take your fucking head off. Clear?”
He grins. “Perfectly. What do you need?”
“Scotch and painkillers,” I grunt. “Heavy painkillers. Then I need guns, lots of bullets, and as many men as you can get.”
Dom nods and runs off. I groan. I’m in pretty bad shape. Worse than I’m letting on to Dominic. But I’m not waiting. Not a fucking chance.
“Sir!” One of my guards runs over with a phone and hands it to me. “It’s Mr. Cave, sir.”
“Vincent—”
“Are you okay?!”
“Fine,” I lie. “But they took Katrina.”
Vincent swears violently. “I’m on my way to the airport now.”
I nod. I’m not going to dissuade him this time. We’re about to go to war. I’m going to need my top general.
“Bellamy?”
“She’s safe,” Vincent grunts. He knows I mean I’m worried about Anton coming after more of my family. “And it’s going to stay that way. She’s staying put here in Florida with some of our own people.”
“Thank you.”
“No need to. Christ, Anton,” Vincent mutters. “He wants a war; he’s going to get destroyed.”
“Call me when you’re landing.”
“I will. Are you sure you’re good?”
“I will be,” I growl. “When I put Anton Korolyov’s head on a fucking pike.”
I hang up and glare around the room. “Listen up!” I roar. My men go silent. “We’re going to war,” I snarl. “Get ready to move out hard.” My lips curl. “And somebody find me Anton fucking Korolyov!”
“Sir.”
I turn as Dom runs up holding a bottle of scotch and a big bottle of percocets. Wisely, he’s also got bandages.
“Get me Anton,” I hiss darkly. I rip my shirt open and start stanching the bleeding with the bandages. “Find him now.”
“Sir,” Dominic clears his throat. “He’s, uh… he’s here.”
I pause. “What?!”
“He’s literally here, Mr. Genovese.”
“Dead?”
Dom frowns. “Actually, he’s at the front door asking for you.”
“Wait! Wait!! Micheal! Hear me out first!”
Anton backs away from me as I storm towards him. He trips and falls backwards down the front steps of my home, but I don’t stop. I stomp down them, rolling up my sleeves. Alcohol, painkillers, and rage flow through me. I want to kill him. I want to tear his goddamn head off with my bare hands.
“I’m here to help!” Anton yells. “Please!”
“Help?!” I snarl. “Where is she?! What the fuck have you done with her?!”
He shakes his head, lying on the ground. “With Katrina? Micheal, she’s my niece for God’s sake!”
“So what, you took her back?”
He shakes his head. “No! This is Pavel, Micheal. He’s acting on his own. He tried to have me shot in my own home not one hour ago. That is why I am here, Micheal. And because Katrina is my family.”
“Your fucking pawn, you mean,” I snap. “Your chess piece.”
He grimaces and looks at his hands. “I am a shit uncle, Micheal. It is what it is. I am not a very good man. But I never claimed to be, either.” He shrugs and looks at me. “But I am not that. I would never hurt my family, even if I don’t like them very much.”
He slowly gets to his feet. I think about shoving him down again, to the ground where he belongs. But I don’t.
“You sent her to spy on me,” I snarl.
He laughs. “No, I didn’t.”
“Bullshit.”
“Pavel, maybe. But me?” He shakes his head. “No, I sent her here to buy me time with you.”
I frown. I still want to rip his head off. But I slow myself. I take a breath. “What?”
“Our arrangement, Micheal. Your family and mine. It is a very profitable one for both of us, yes?”
I say nothing.
“But I am not unaware that I rely on you. You are the bigger fish, Micheal. And I am… I am being attacked by many fronts.”
“Not my problem,” I growl.
“I know that. I was hoping…”
“You were hoping if I were married to your family…”
“I wanted to be sure the Korolyov name was closely aligned with yours, dah.” I glare at him. Anton just shrugs unapologetically. “Business is business, Micheal.” He eyes me. “Something tells me you are not unhappy with Katrina in your life though, yes?”
My eyes narrow at him. Anton smiles and shrugs. “A happy ending, no?”
“Happy?” I snarl. I advance on him. He flinches and backs away before Dom puts a hand on my shoulder to slow me. I growl at the Russian sniveling in front of me. “Pavel… your own fucking advisor Pavel, just took my wife,” I hiss. “And trust me that if I don’t find her safe and unharmed, there will be no happy ending. Include yourself in that unhappy outcome.”
Anton nods. “Pavel is a piece of shit. I’ve always known he looks at Katrina like that. But I find out tonight he has been talking to our fucking enemies.” He snarls. “I went to confront him, and two of my own men tried to shoot me. In my fucking house, Micheal!”
“Do you know which family?”
“The Ivanoviches, I think.”
Shit. The Ivanovich family is Bratva connected, and large. The Scaliamis have them outgunned, probably. But not by much. And who the hell knows how many of Anton’s guys Pavel has taken with him.
“So what are you going to do about this?”
Anton frowns. “Do?”
“A trusted man tried to have you killed in your house after stabbing you in the back and aligning with your enemies,” I growl. “In my world, that merits a fucking response.”
“You mean go after him.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes,” I hiss.
Anton shakes his head. “No, Micheal. It is not done like that. This must be brought to the council of families. There are powers in Russia that need to rule on what—”
“Are you fucking serious?” I roar. We’re wasting time. My people are already out there banging down doors and looking for Pavel and Katrina. But this needs to go faster. “Just tell me where you think he might be.”
“I can’t do that.”
I turn and grab the gun from Dominic’s belt. I cock it level it at Anton’s forehead. “I would,” I snarl.
“I am sorry, Micheal. It is an internal Bratva matter. So it needs to be dealt with—”
“She’s my wife, Anton,” I say thinly. I cock the gun and watch him swallow. “I’m counting to three.” This isn’t exactly the height of diplomacy, but I am shit out of fucks to give right now. “One—”
“How about if your guy is talking to the fucked Feds?” Dom barks. I turn, half amused by his interjection. I like this kid.
“What?”
“The FBI. Does that still make it a fucking internal matter?”
Anton’s face darkens. His nostrils flare. “You have proof of this?”
Dom barks something at one of his soldiers. The guy runs up with a bi
g file folder. Dom takes it and shoves it into Anton’s hands. “Keep it, that’s a copy.”
I keep the gun on Anton. He opens the file up and starts paging through it. Pictures, thumb drives, and a pound of documents. I watch the fury mount on his face. He looks up with a snarl on his lips.
“Ublyudok!” He hisses with fury. “Motherfucker! Mother. Fucker!”
He whirls away. He snarls and curses up a storm before he turns back to me.
“Where would he go, Anton?”
“I’ll show you,” he growls. He looks up at me. “But only if you let me blow his fucking head off—”
“No,” I snarl. I shake my head. “He’s mine.”
Anton purses his lips. But then he nods. “I should have let you kill him those years ago, Micheal. I’m sorry.”
“You can make it up to me now by bringing me to him.”
He frowns and nods. “I’ll show you.”
“Good.”
This time, I’m putting Pavel in the fucking ground.
18
Katrina
“Oni zdes!” The man by the window hisses. “They’re here!”
My stomach sinks. I want to scream. I know by them, he means Micheal. I want to yell to them that this is a trap and to run away. But the gag in my mouth stops me.
I glance around the crumbling old shipping warehouse. It’s full of men with guns; some I recognize as Anton’s guys. Some I don’t recognize. But I assume they’re with with the Ivanovich family.
I’m tied to a chair in the middle of the room, with a single light on me. I’m bait. The rest of the men are hidden in the shadows, or behind corners. Some are ducking down behind wooden shipping crates. They’ve all got guns trained on the only door inside.
I do scream when I hear car doors shut. But it’s useless. They’ll never hear me. Or worse, they will, and Micheal will come charging in. Fear tugs at me. I don’t want this. I don’t want to watch him die. My eyes well up, but I try and force the tears back. Crying isn’t going to solve this.
I grimace. Pavel is half right. Something about Micheal has made me bolder. It’s made me less timid, more confident.