Pasha feels guilty for not being able to save Sonia, and I understand it. We all, as Bratva men, as men in general, sympathize with him for his loss. But we also cannot allow him to become a tyrant.
“You knock him off of his pedestal,” Timofei rumbles.
“Timofei,” I warn on a hiss.
“If he’s incompetent, he’s incompetent. I’ve heard Kirill, Yakov, Maxim, and even Radimir speak about it. They’re giving him time because they respect him; but once this shit it done, once he has the head of El Patron, his fucking focus better shift, or he’s done. He fucked up with Gavril, and Oksana could have suffered. That shit is unacceptable.”
We don’t say anything else. I let his words tumble through my head as I rest my eyes. I can’t sleep. There’s too much happening inside of my brain. Dethroning the king, which is essentially Pasha’s position in the U.S., that’s a big fucking statement.
I can only hope that this mission is successful.
Oksana will be mine, without protest from her father.
I can’t fucking wait.
I FEEL LIKE I’VE only just closed my eyes when Kirill announces that it’s time to load up and go. I’ve never been nervous before. My training has made it an impossibility. But this isn’t like any other mission. There is so much more at stake here, and I find that I’m apprehensive.
“Don’t worry about a fucking thing,” Timofei growls as we walk out of the house to load the cars. “Meant what I said earlier. Pasha will get knocked off of his pedestal, and I’ll be the one to do it,” he grunts.
“That’s no small threat. Maybe you should think about it a little more,” I murmur.
“I’ve been thinking about it, Mika. I’ve been listening and watching him for a while. He’s not right,” he says shaking his head. “I didn’t think he’d really hurt Sana, but fuck, I believe it.”
“Ready?” Kirill asks, walking up to us.
We both nod and walk toward the waiting car. Timofei doesn’t say another word, and I wonder if he’s truly contemplating overthrowing his father. If he did, it would cause an unbalance in the Bratva that will not be quick to restore.
There are many men who are completely loyal to Pasha—but then there are men like he mentioned, Pakhan’s in their own territories who are watching and waiting, knowing that Pasha is completely unstable. They respect him, as do I, but how long can you respect someone who is making decisions that are completely unwarranted?
“We’re going to get out on the south side of the property and stick to the shadows as we surround the home. Their snipers are already down and won’t be back up until six in the morning. Oliver has already put their security cameras on a loop, and they’ll stay that way for at least an hour. I want to be in and out in thirty minutes, El Patron’s head in Mika’s hand,” Ziven states.
Everyone nods before we quickly and quietly file out of the car, the other men doing the same. It doesn’t take us long to surround the grounds, and I smirk when I see the two buffoons that are on duty. One is leaning against the door asleep, the other is playing on his phone.
I know that there are two more stationed at every entry point to the house. Timofei lifts his chin, and I dip mine in response. We both pull out our guns, equipped with silencers, and shoot the men in the head before we make our way to the door. I should feel guilty for killing these men, but I’ve done worse, so I don’t. This is part of the life. We all know that death could come knocking on our door at any second.
Timofei and I cautiously walk through the home, a few of our men at our backs. The house isn’t as full of men as I’d anticipated, and I breathe a sigh of relief as we continue through the memorized floorplan. But something isn’t right. There should be a hallway to our left and it’s a solid wall.
“What the fuck?” Timofei asks.
Shaking my head, I make sure to listen for movement, for footsteps as we walk along the wall. I hear noises outside, gunfire, and I know that if there are more men in here then, they must hear it to. A man comes from around the corner, seemingly out of nowhere, his gun raised and without delay Timofei covers me. I watch as he falls to the ground, a bullet in his head. We turn down the hall that he came from and see door after door, knowing this must be where the women are kept.
There are men standing outside of each door. Without delay, the group of men behind me, rush the ones guarding the closed doors, and kill each of them with little to no noise. The men that were at my back rush into the women’s rooms, as they were instructed, and deal with getting them out of the house.
A new wave of our men arrives as we make our way to El Patron’s room.
“What’s happening outside?” I ask one of the newer men.
“There were more men than anticipated guarding the back of the house, they’re at a standoff,” he murmurs.
Nodding, I continue until I’m directly in front of El Patron’s doorway. Nobody is protecting his door. With a couple guys and Timofei, we stroll into his bedroom. We leave five men posted at the door for our protection.
I grin when I see him asleep in his bed, a beautiful naked woman at his side. Once I’m next to him, I point the barrel of my gun against his forehead. His eyes pop open as his body stiffens, and he looks at me in complete shock.
“Sit up,” I order, knowing full well he understands English fluently. Another tidbit of information from Alicia.
Timofei points his gun at his woman on the other side, something he doesn’t want to do, but Alicia warned that a slave would protect her master to a fault, so we’re taking no chances.
“What do you want?” he asks gruffly.
“Your head,” I shrug.
“What’s your reasoning?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.
“The Bratva doesn’t really care for your tactics. Taking our women, taking the Notorious Devils’ women, and selling them off as slaves. We’re not in the slave business anymore—something we’ve told your men more than once. It ends now,” I inform him as I take a knife out of my waistband, where it had been sheathed.
“You kill me and another man will just take my place,” he informs.
“We’ll kill him, too,” I shrug.
“You can’t kill us all. Our numbers outrival yours,” he chuckles.
“Our skill outrivals yours,” I grin.
Without another word, I shoot him in the forehead before I spin him around and slice his throat.
I’ll saw his head off in a moment. I lift my head to Timofei who grins before he drags the screaming, naked woman away from the bed. It takes me a few minutes to completely sever his head, and when I do, I can’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief. I’m covered in blood, but Oksana is mine. Once this head is delivered to Pasha, she’s mine, one hundred percent.
“You need that box?” Kirill asks as he pops his head into the bedroom.
I turn to him, my body covered in blood and El Patron’s head hanging from my fingers by his hair. Kirill gives me a slow, cool smile as he nods.
“You need the box,” he grunts.
“I need the fucking box,” I agree.
It’s over.
“This seemed too easy,” I murmur a few minutes later as I’m placing the bloody head in a plastic bag, and then setting it inside of the box.
“It did, but there’s still gunfire happening outside, who knows what we’re going to be walking into,” Timofei murmurs.
“Where are the women?” I ask.
“Called a sex trafficking non-profit organization before we even left. They’re waiting at our safe house,” he shrugs.
“Seriously?” I ask in surprise.
“They need help, and we can’t give it to them, but the non-profit will help them,” he states.
Once we make our way out of the house, there’s gunfire surrounding the back yard. A few of our men are shuffling women out of the front door while the rest of us join the firefight.
I hear grunting, and see a few of our men lying on the ground. It doesn’t take us long to finish th
em off, they have terrible fucking aim. Holding their guns to the goddamn side like they’re television gangsters.
We drag The Cartel members into the house and leave their bloody bodies in a pile before we gather our own men.
“What do we do with them? We can bury them?” Timofei asks as he looks down.
I don’t personally know any of these men, but that doesn’t make them less. They’re still Bratva, still family. I don’t want to suggest what I know is the right thing to do. Looking around, I can tell that none of the men wish to suggest it either. Our men are, ours, they deserve a proper burial but we don’t have the time.
Placing my hands on my hips I close my eyes. “No choice but to burn them with the house.”
“Fuck,” Timofei curses.
It doesn’t take us long to leave the house. Once we’re loaded up in the cars—the women all together in one with a few men to watch over them—I watch as the entire house explodes as we drive away. I grin, holding the head of El Patron in my lap.
It’s done.
Now, I go home to my woman, my wife.
I moan as I roll over and find the bed empty again. Mika has only been gone a couple of days, but I miss him. I haven’t heard a word from him, or Timofei, and waiting feels like torture. Hopefully, what Leonie and I have planned for the day will keep my mind occupied and off of Mika. I didn’t sleep well last night, tossing and turning while I checked my phone about a million times.
Forcing myself to get up, I make my way to shower, hoping that the water will wake me. I feel like I’m dragging. I’m completely exhausted, in a way I’ve never felt before. Once I’m clean, I dry off and walk over to the vanity to brush my teeth. As soon as my toothbrush makes its first circle on my teeth, my eyes widen and I throw the brush, turning to the toilet to empty my stomach.
“Holy shit,” I whisper once I’ve finished.
I place my hand on my forehead and I feel fine, no hint of a fever. I stand on shaky legs and make my way to the sink to finish brushing my teeth. I gag a few times but manage to clean my teeth. Then I quickly dress in jeans and a tank top before I pad to the kitchen barefoot in search for something to eat, hoping it will settle whatever is wrong with my stomach.
Rummaging through the fridge, I come across a can of ginger ale and grab it before I walk over to the chocolate chip muffins that Quinn insisted I take from her baking extravaganza yesterday. The muffin is still as delicious the next day as it was fresh from the oven, and the ginger ale does help my stomach in combination with the food.
A knock on the door interrupts my breakfast, and I dust my hands off on my pants before I make my way to the door. Looking through the peephole, I see that it’s Leonie standing on the other side. I open the door, but before I let her in, I pop my head out to see that Ony is indeed standing where he was yesterday.
“Do you want to come in, too, Ony?” I ask.
“Nyet,” he rumbles.
I widen my eyes at Leonie and step aside so that she can come in, then I close and lock the door behind her.
“You look pale,” she points out.
“I got sick this morning,” I murmur.
Her eyes narrow on my face and then she smiles. She looks kind of crazy, but I just wait for what is coming next.
“Could you be pregnant?” she asks.
“I don’t think so,” I say, shaking my head.
I couldn’t be. Mika and I have only been married a couple of weeks. Even if I got pregnant the night he took me from my wedding, there’s no way.
“I think it could be a possibility,” she says with a nod. “We’ll pick up a test after we visit with the orphanage.”
“Seriously, I couldn’t be,” I state.
“I thought you’d told me that you two were together during your engagement party,” she offers.
“That was months ago, seriously—months,” I stress the word months and Leonie only smiles.
“Months ago, but you’ve been stressed. Maybe you haven’t gained weight, but I’ll bet that’s when it happened.”
“Holy shit, this is crazy,” I mumble.
“Get some shoes on, let’s go,” she laughs.
“Wait, we can’t leave,” I say thinking about how Ony told me I wasn’t able to leave until he got information from Mika.
“It’s okay, he said we could go,” she shrugs.
I think about her words, wondering if everything is indeed over? If it is, then why hasn’t Mika called me himself? My brows knit in confusion, but Leonie urges me to get moving. I want to ask a million questions, but I’m fully aware that she likely knows absolutely nothing, and Ony wouldn’t tell me even if I begged—not until he got an all-clear from Mika.
I hurry and slide on a pair of flat sandals before I grab my purse. We walk out of the condo together. Today is nothing more than an informational meeting with the person who runs the home. Apparently, orphanages aren’t really called orphanages here in the states anymore, something I hadn’t known.
When we arrive at the meeting, we’re taken into an office, where we meet the director of the home. She looks us over and then eyes Ony, standing behind us, and I know when her hackles rise. It’s as though I can see the shift inside of her just at one look of the big Russian.
“Please tell me why you’d like to volunteer in our home?” she asks.
Leonie tells her tale. It breaks my heart, the things she’s been through and had to overcome. But the woman across from us is a blank mask. I can’t read her. Then Leonie tells her about all of the volunteering she’s done in Russia, and the woman’s eyebrows knit together.
“Russia? And what was your name?” she asks, turning to me.
“Oksana Vetrova, I mean, Oksana Rybina,” I state flustered, as she watches me intently.
We chat a little while longer, but I can tell by the woman’s body language alone that she is not going to allow us to volunteer. She knows someone in the Bratva, or their name at least—either my father or Mika. I could tell immediately.
“Thank you for your time, ladies. I’ll call you to start your paperwork process,” she says as she stands.
Leonie, Ony, and I turn to leave. We won’t ever be back, and that makes me sad. Not just for me, but for Leonie and the children, too. Leonie is such a beautiful person and has so much love to give to these children who don’t receive nearly enough of it.
“She’s never calling me back, is she?” Leonie asks once we’re inside of the car and on the way to the store.
“No,” Ony announces. “She’s a judgmental bitch,” he growls. I can’t help but giggle.
“She is,” he confirms.
“Oh, I know. As soon as she saw you, then heard my name, we were done for,” I say with a shrug.
“I have another place you can go, where you won’t be judged and their rules aren’t as strict,” he mutters.
“Where?” I ask in confusion.
“The club that Ziven owns, The Church, the employees are all Russian. Most of the time they need daycare, since one parent is usually doing Bratva work at night and the other is waitressing at the club. Ziven has a house where the kids stay while their parents are on shift. Sometimes the parents have different jobs for the Bratva, but most are kids from The Church. They aren’t orphans, but I’m pretty sure the center could always use more help,” Ony suggests. My mouth drops open. I hadn’t known. What a fantastic idea.
“Ziven is pretty awesome,” I say with a grin.
“He’s the best Pakhan I’ve had, aside from Kirill,” Ony states as he pulls into the drug store’s parking lot.
The three of us leave the car and walk into the drug store. Ony grunts when he discovers our destination. I look back at him, my face turning red with embarrassment, and he shakes his head slightly with a grin. I grab a test and hurry to the counter, paying quickly before we all rush back to the car.
“Don’t say anything,” I warn him.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he chuckles.
Leonie’s hand
wraps around mine and she gives it a squeeze before she grins widely. The crazy girl. Once we’re back at our building, Ony escorts us inside and Leonie and I go into my condo, where I proceed to take the test.
“I don’t want to know,” I announce.
“You have to,” she says, shaking her head.
“Seriously, it will be real if I know,” I say, wrapping my hand around my throat.
“It will be real if you don’t know,” she deadpans. I narrow my eyes on her.
I grab her hand and drag her to the bathroom once the alarm on my phone rings, indicating that my time is up and the test should be showing the results. I push Leonie into the bathroom and make her read the results. I’m not sure if I could even see straight at this point.
“Congratulations, mama,” she whispers.
I open my eyes slowly and they immediately fill with tears at her words. Mama. Mika has gotten his wish. I’m pregnant with his baby. I shake my head as she comes toward me and wraps me up in her arms.
“Holy shit,” I murmur for what feels like the millionth time today.
Leonie asks if I want her to stay longer, but I tell her no. She leaves a little awhile after our crying hug-oh-shit-fest. Ony just shakes his head with a smile as I tell her goodbye, as if he already knows what’s happened.
I look down at my phone and bite my bottom lip, wishing that Mika would just call me. I shower and take myself to bed. I continue to stare at my phone, then I know that I can’t keep my news to myself for another second. I dial Aleksandra’s number.
“I thought you were never going to call me again,” she practically yells after she answers and I introduce myself.
“I’ve been a little busy,” I laugh.
“Well, how is Denver?” she asks.
“Everything is awesome here. It’s only missing you,” I say with a smile, even though I know that she can’t see my face.
“Tell me. You’re holding something back; I can tell by the tone in your voice.”
Forever my Badman (Russian Bratva Book 7) Page 18