Redemption (The Volkov Mafia Series Book 4)

by Samantha Harrington

  I smiled at him, knowing that was the first step. Acceptance.

  I needed to do everything I could to make sure he got the best help possible. He just needed to accept it, to change for the better, not the worst.

  “Then go get some rest and let me make some calls, Alek,” I told him.

  He made an effort to stand up, holding onto his side. His injury was still quite fresh and sore from the look of it. His mobility was improving daily. His strength would come back in time.

  I loaded up the computer and looked at what help was available. I only wanted the best for him.

  After what felt like hours of searching, my eyes began to hurt from looking at the screen, and I had made numerous calls to centres for help. I think I’d finally got a plan that would work.

  I down the whiskey, thinking I can’t go through all of this again. It’s been months. There is something in the way he is acting right now that doesn’t sit well with me. I never thought it would come to this, but what choice do I have?

  Picking up the phone, I wait for the line to connect to the one person I know will get to the bottom of all this.

  “Damien, what’s up? It’s eleven o’clock. Everything ok with Faith and Anya?” Malc’s voice is full of sleep and I feel guilty at the thought of waking him, but I need this done and I can’t think of no one better.

  “I need you to go to the penthouse in London. I need to know what Alek is up to. He’s hiding something from me, and I want to know what,” I tell him. I don’t need to sweeten it up for him. This is the brother that I know will do anything for me. We have been through a lot this last year, but we have come out stronger.

  To know that the boy I grew up with is my flesh and blood, it seals the bond that we already had. It was easy for me to accept as I know everything about him, but Malc had it tougher than me; he had demons to face from both his mother and father, lies and betrayal for most of his life even though my mother was there for him in the only way she was allowed to be, but that’s because of my father, Viktor.

  His tyrant ways kept her a prisoner to her own heart for years; keeping her as the perfect trophy to show off whenever he wanted to, keeping her away from the son she had to watch grow up with the man she loved but was never able to acknowledge him. That has to take its strain on anyone carrying all that around for almost thirty years.

  “Why is he at the penthouse?” Malc asks me.

  I know that tone better than anyone. He is wondering why the hell I let him go on his own. Well, telling him this little snippet should be fun then.

  “He took Emma to her parents’ house so she could see them and let them know she’s doing ok, and since they live in the city he asked if they could stay there instead of driving all the way back out here. I didn’t see a problem with it at the time.”

  I wait for the cogs to fall into place. I know what I’m about to hear so I pull the phone away from my ear and get ready for the onslaught that is about to come.

  “He did what?” he roars at me. I know it’s not directed at me or I would call him out for his outburst. So I let it slide as he carries on. “Why would you let him take her there? She wasn’t ready to see them. I thought we said it would be best if they think the worst to avoid any unwanted questions, Damien.” He has a fucking point.

  “I did say that, Malc, and at the time it was valid, but she is so much stronger now. She has her identity back and it wasn’t my choice to make her wait any longer, Malc,” I tell him, letting him know that this was completely down to her.

  “That’s fair enough then, but why did Alek take her?”

  I know the shit is going to hit the fan when I answer this one. “He took her because they are sleeping together and, no before you ask, I only found out from Faith. I don’t know how long it’s been going on and I don’t really wish to. As long as it doesn’t affect either of their work then I’m ok with it, Malc.” And I realise that’s true. As long as both of them don’t let it upset the balance in this house, then who I’m I to tell them no?

  “He’s fucking what? Just you wait till I get my hands on the cunt, I will fucking kill him myself. Does he not realise what we saved her from? She was a fucking sex slave for Christ sake, passed around from pillar to post,” he yells. “I fucking blew a guy’s brains out while he was still buried inside her cunt.”

  I know this is a sore subject for him because it brings to mind what happened with Camilla, but they aren’t the same people, and if she feels she’s ready, then she will do it regardless.

  “I know you did, and I know you don’t want anything bad to happen to her, that’s why I need you to get down to the penthouse to make sure everything is ok.” I feel like a shit because I know he’s going to be pissed, and I know he’s going to fucking deck Alek the first chance he gets, but right now I can’t bring myself to care enough to stop him.

  “Oh you bet your arse I’m going. I will be there within the hour, Damien. If he does anything to hurt her I will kill him.” And with that said, the line goes dead.

  I put my mobile on the table. It’s enough for one day. I need to go to bed. I need to get lost inside my wife’s body. I need her to make me forget the only way she can.

  I step into the bedroom and see her sleeping form, the cover draped over her body, seductively calling to my primal side. Just a hint of her exposed milky flesh is enough to make my cock ache for her body.

  I still get hard looking at her. Hell, I still get hard just talking to her.

  Right now though, as I strip myself out of my suit and get into bed beside her, I can think of nothing better than pulling her close and holding her. She’s the one that keeps the darkness at bay. She’s the light that guides me. She’s the other half that makes me whole.

  I feel her body press up against mine as sleep tries to claim me. “Goodnight, Moya Lubuova,” I whisper into her hair as I finally give in to slumber.

  “Night, my love,” she whispers back, and nestles her little backside closer to my cock. I push down the thoughts of ravishing her body for tonight; something is telling me to just hold her close.

  I hope that everything I’m worrying about surrounding Alek is nothing, but something in my gut tells me this is a long way from over, that come hell or high water someone is bound to get hurt. I just hope it’s not Faith or Anya. Because if I lose the only things in my life that are worth living for, then so help me God I will hunt him down like a dog, and kill him like a lamb going to slaughter.

  Chapter Nine

  Alekzander

  I slip my arm out from underneath her sleeping form, and look down at the beauty of her naked body wrapped in a sheet. The sight of her always gets my cock hard like stone.

  I stride silently over to the wardrobe and grab the three-piece suit I need for this evening. Damien, Malc and myself always have clothes here for when we are staying over so I don’t need to worry about what to wear.

  I hate that I’m leaving her not long after she’s fallen asleep. I hate that I couldn’t be honest with her. I do indeed have a meeting, but it’s in the dead of night.

  The sort you would find in a seedy back room of a bar around a table with a two grand buy-in.

  I dress with the realisation that I have to do this. If I don’t win tonight, then all the money I owe Jonny “The Butcher” Haynes will be gone. I owe him ten grand. I’ve had the time to pay it back, but I haven’t been lucky enough to do that. The tables haven’t been good to me these past couple of months, only winning little bets. Every time I bet big I lose. The feeling of utter dread sneaks into the pit of my stomach at the thought of not winning. I walk out of the penthouse without looking back. This is something I have to do if I want a life free from the clutches of a shark.

  I drive to the bar. It’s nothing special from the outside; dirty brickwork that looks as if it’s seen years of pollution, even though the place can’t be more than a couple of years old. The bright blue of the neon sign flashes above the door, advertising girls. I know this sort of est
ablishment well. They keep you in women and booze, knowing you will spend your last dime

  with what’s on offer

  The brute of a man on the door looks me up and down once before nodding and stepping aside to let me pass.

  As I enter through the door, the smell of alcohol and smoke assaults my nose. You don’t get this feeling from behind a screen; the adrenaline that pumps through your veins as you sit across from your opponents, trying to get a read on them. Everyone has a tell. It’s just a case of observing and acting when the time is right, knowing when to call or when to fold. I’ve never been a guy that plays this game well. I’m like a bull in a china shop, either you go big or you go home. Thinking about it now as I walk closer to the bar, that philosophy is probably what got me so deep into this mess, not knowing when to quit.

  “What can I get you?” the fake blonde behind the bar asks me.

  “I will have a Russian Vodka.” I don’t even say thank you as she wanders down the bar to fix my drink, the false smile now gone from her lips. What’s the point in trying? She knows I’m not here for her. Why would I be when I have Emma to go back to after all this is over? Well, I hope I do anyway.

  “That will be £5.90 please,” she says in her not so sweet voice. The little vixen is back in full force, batting her eyelashes to try and gain a tip.

  I hand her a ten pound note and tell her, “Keep the change.” She nods and smiles at me as she moves on to serve her next victim. I make my way through to the back of the bar towards the room where this game is going to be played.

  The room is rather uninspiring, nothing like the elite places that I have visited before where there have been numerous tables full of players and half naked women at their beck and call. No, this is basic, hastily thrown together to try and gain a quick payday. Ten miss-matched chairs sit around the old wooden table in the middle of the room. The dealer is setting up the chips as I take my seat. The 2k buy-in is burning a hole in my pocket. I’m itching to hand it over so we can play. I’m not the first one here as a few players have arrived before me. One guy gives me a quick once-over. Another guy has a drink to his mouth, too absorbed in the alcohol to pay me any mind. That will change when we all get around the table. Focus is vital when trying to weed out the competition.

  The hands come and go as I carefully observe my opponents. I place only small bets on hands I know I won’t win. I want to see how they bluff. You see, Poker is like the luck of the draw; it all depends on the turn of a card. What sits on that river, just as much as what you hold in your hand.

  He watches me with rapt attention from across the table. I didn’t realise he would be here too. Jonny ‘The Butcher’ Haynes. His beady eyes follow my every move. I’m not sure if he’s here to play or just to make sure I don’t make a hash of it. He wants his money back, and come six o’clock my time is up. The thought plays on my mind, the outcome of this game is paramount. Here, he’s putting me on edge, throwing me off. I try to compose myself as I play the next few hands now that we are down to the last three players. The blinds have increased somewhat, 100/200 a bet now, so it’s getting more and more expensive to play. Now, I have to play to win, not observe.

  The dealer distributes the cards, making them slide along the wooden top. Once he sets the deck down, I peek at the two cards I’m holding. I spy a pair of Aces in my hand. I hold back the smile that wants to sneak up at the corners of my mouth. I watch the others, looking for any reaction to the cards that come out on the river. The first card turned is another Ace, followed by a Jack and a ten, all of the same suit. It’s my turn to check or call. What to do? I have three of a kind already, but there are still another two cards to come out on the flop.

  I call, and wait for bets to go around the table. Everyone calls but no one raises. This is good news for me … well I hope it is.

  The next card out is a six of clubs. Fuck, that doesn’t really help me, but it doesn’t hinder me either. I’ve still got three of a kind. It’s Jonny’s turn and he raises the bet to one thousand. The other player goes all in with what he has left, taking the call to two and a half thousand. I call it. It goes back to Jonny to call or raise. To my amazement he calls. It’s all riding on this last card. The other guy is all in, you can see the sweat across is brow. He looks nervous.

  I’m scared to death on the inside. My heart is racing, just like a formula one car driver would as he speeds around the track. My palms are sweating. I feel my throat tighten as the dealer turns the last card. Jonny looks to me; I can feel his eyes burning holes right through me. The smug look across his scar-riddled face almost makes me shiver … almost. I need this one hand to go my way or I’m well and truly fucked.

  The dealer lays the card on the river and my stomach drops for a second. I glance at the cards, trying to hide my surprise when another Ace is sat at the end of the river. That gives me four of a kind Aces now. Fucking get in!

  It’s my turn to make the check or raise, and I know what I’m going to do. Some might say it’s showing my hand too soon, but I don’t really care now. I can taste the win. I’m craving it. It will get this debt settled so I can start over, clean slate, and not get into this kind of mess again.

  I go all in.

  He calls.

  Then we wait. I can’t wait to wipe that smug look off his face and throw the money at him and walk the fuck away for good.

  I turn my cards and watch the other guy put his down; three of a kind sixes — good hand. I watch as he pales. My chest gets bigger at the thought of winning. All that’s left is the turn of Jonny’s cards.

  I keep my eyes focused on Jonny, watching as he slowly turns the cards.

  Queen of Hearts first … shit. My breathing increases as his smile grows.

  King of Hearts second … fuck, fuck, fuck ... he’s got a fucking Royal Flush! Fuck, I’m done for.

  I can hear his bellow resounding in my ears. “Better luck next time, Alekzander,” he says. “Boys, would you do the honours since I don’t think he has the means to pay up right now? Unless I’m mistaken and you have the 10k you owe me?”

  I’m screwed, I know it.

  “You know I don’t, you just made sure of that,” I yell at him. I feel the grip on my arms pull me from the chair, dragging me towards the door to the outside.

  The alley is dark and stinks of shit. The rubbish litters the edges. I know what’s about to happen now; it’s the beating the goons are going to give me, a warning to make sure I get my payment to them by the next deadline or they won’t be so kind next time. I’m just going to take what they give me. It will be easier. Trying to fight back with two of them on me isn’t worth it.

  “You know the drill, Alek. You do this as much as we do. Did you really think he would let it slide?” I feel the first punch connect with my face as the other guy holds me in place. Pain blooms across my jaw and I spit blood onto the ground at the side of me. I just about recover before the next blow strikes. This time, the force makes me drop to the floor. I’m on my hands and knees trying to pull myself up when the guy kicks my sides. They aren’t holding anything back, that’s for sure. The grip on my hair pulls my head back to look up at one of the henchmen. Pain lances through my scalp. I feel the burn as his hold tightens. Another punch to my face, this time it’s my nose that feels the brunt of it. I taste copper as blood flows from my nose into my mouth.

  The beating seems to go on and on. Time comes to a standstill for me as punch after punch lands on every part of my body. I do nothing about it. I know I could, but now’s not the time.

  “You have twenty-four hours to come up with the money you owe, or that pretty little thing you have at the apartment will be taking a little ride with us … well, with Jonny, as he puts her to work to pay off your debt.”

  His words spark fury through me as I try to push against his hold. It’s one thing to threaten me, but I won’t let him get to Emma. I have been through this before, losing someone I love through my addiction. I can’t even blame it on that this ti
me. I knew what I was doing when I borrowed from Jonny. I wanted to break free from the debt I owed my brother. I owe him everything, yet I have nothing to give.

  “Stay down now, Alek. Remember, one day is all you get, or this is going to get a whole lot uglier.”

  I don’t see the hard kick to my side coming. It steals my breath and I drop to the floor like a lead weight. I try to fight off the oncoming darkness, but it’s no use. Time to stay down.

  I pray for redemption! I know I don’t deserve it. If I walk away from this, then I have to cleanse my soul of the evil inside, to deal with my demons before they deal with me.

  *****

  Malcolm

  I watch as Alek leaves the penthouse in the middle of the night. I follow him as he drives towards the shady part of town.

  Seeing him pull up to the bar, I know damn well what he’s up to. The fucker is gambling again. Damn it all to hell, Damien was right. I don’t want him to be right. I thought Alek had turned it all around since Damien got him the help he needed. But now I’m determined to get my fucking hands on him. One for doing this to Damien again, and two for doing this to Emma. Does he not realise that these people don’t fuck around? They will hurt her if he doesn’t do what they say. I know the guy that runs this place. Jonny Haynes, that’s who, and if Alek is betting with his money you can be damn sure he’s going to be in so deep he can’t get himself out.

  I sit outside for a couple of hours with nothing much to report. I can’t go inside for risk of being seen, so I wait.

  I make the call, needing to know what Damien wants me to do. The line connects after three rings.

  “What have you found, Malc?” he asks me. I can hear the apprehension in his voice as if he already knows what I’m going to say.

  “It’s not good, boss. He’s at Jonny Haynes’ club. He went in and he hasn’t come out yet.”

  I hear the sharp intake of breath. “Fuck,” he says down the line. “I’m not doing this, Malc. I’m not cleaning up after him again.”