by Mason, V. F.
Or how about Vasya having fucking dealings with so many questionable men, knowing full well about all their businesses? I wanted to scream in agony and kill all those fuckers. I felt nothing but hatred towards Vasya, which contradicted my friends’ emotions.
They felt only gratitude. How could they concentrate on anything but the good stuff, if they had no idea about the bad?
I hopped on my bike and it roared to life. I was enjoying the vibration and sense of power between my legs, when I noticed Gleb running to me with nothing on but his jeans. A piece of popcorn was still stuck to his chest and I raised my brow at him. What the fuck was he doing?
“Hey, man, you okay?” He placed his hand on my shoulder, while catching my stare and searching for answers there. “It’s not like you to storm off. I’m sorry for the joke.”
I squeezed the handlebars harder and shook my head, not wanting to lie to my best friend.
“Do you need me to go with you? I’ll grab my jacket and be back in five.”
“No, I want to ride alone,” I answered honestly, knowing it wouldn't hurt his feelings.
No one knew me better than Gleb, after all.
To our surprise, we all had become best of friends, our tight group of four withstanding everything and everyone. While Vitya and Dom had a special bond, I shared one with Gleb.
“Okay, brother. But I’m always here if you need me.” He gave me a man hug, patted me on the chest, and I pushed him back as he shivered a little.
“Get inside before you catch pneumonia.”
He smirked. “The girls will warm me up.” With a last wink, he went back inside while I rode in the direction of the cemetery that wasn’t visible from the snowy road. It would allow me to think freely without facing unwanted attention from anyone or anything.
I closed my eyes and for a moment enjoyed the complete freedom the bike gave me; the cold wind slapping my face reminded me I was still alive despite all the odds and I slung my arms wide, controlling the machine with my thighs.
The loud horn of a car snapped me back to reality as the bright headlights blinded me. The car moved at full speed right at me, and I barely had time to shift to the right and avoid the car. I maneuvered the bike around and stopped, putting my foot down as the car stopped abruptly as well.
I removed my helmet, greedily gulping air into my lungs with my heart beating rapidly in my chest.
The person got out of the car, a young girl around my age all furious with her golden locks spreading over her shoulders, covered mostly by a pink hat. Uggs engulfed her legs as she rushed to me and shouted, “Are you insane? I almost killed you! Who rides a freaking bike without their hands!” She finally reached me, her green eyes sending daggers my way. I was left speechless, because it was impossible not to recognize her.
I could really appreciate her beauty now: the porcelain skin, long eyelashes, the doll-like features that probably made men write poems about women like her.
And the incredible smell of lavender that traced after her and hit my nose like an aphrodisiac.
She wasn't a dream after all.
My angel.
“Savannah,” I whispered, and she blinked, and then frowned.
“Do we know each other?” But then something flickered through her eyes and she gasped, placing her palm on her lips. “You are the boy from the streets near the bakery I found last year?” Before I could reply, she continued, “Uncle Vasya took you under his wing, or that’s what he said to my father.”
“Your father?” I repeated like an idiot while she nodded vigorously, her curls swaying along with her. I had the urge to grab them and check if they were as soft as they appeared.
“Gradion Kuzmin, he is the pakhan of the Kuzmin Bratva,” she said proudly, while raising her chin as if she expected me to question her on this.
Fuck me.
Konstantinov Bratva and the Kuzmin Bratva were the two biggest organizations in the country and constantly faced issues with each other and the territories, although there was no official war declared. In fact, Vasya and Gradion had dinner each Sunday, putting on a show for everyone.
We stayed silent for a moment, while I digested the information and the unfamiliar attraction that had different thoughts swimming in my head. Finally, she extended her hand.
“I think we started off wrong. Let’s do it again?” Then she smiled brightly, stilling my heart while my gaze focused on her glistening lips that she just licked. “My name is Savannah. How about you?” Closing my palm over hers, I almost groaned from the softness of her skin against mine. She flushed red, her cheeks heating up while she tried to get her hand back, but I didn't let her.
Coming closer, I answered, “Yuri.” And just like that, we cemented the beginning of our relationship.
If only I’d known that our love would be her ultimate downfall, I never would have had that conversation with her.
If only.
New York, New York
August 2017
Melissa
Propping the bag in my hands higher, I fished for my keys in the back pocket and cursed inwardly when I couldn’t locate them. “Please don’t tell me I left you in the office.” That would be an epic ending to this freaking day that wouldn’t end no matter how much I wanted it to.
Huffing in annoyance, I placed the bag on the roof of my car and dug in my purse, searching frantically for those damned keys and trying to ignore the rumbling of my stomach.
I hadn’t had anything since breakfast, so no wonder hunger and thirst were killing me. I shouldn’t have declined Irina’s lunch invitation, but the encounter with Yuri left me so annoyed I stayed in the office.
More like hid in it.
The additional time allowed me to study the Rosa file that I gladly transferred to Connor, because Dominic stayed deaf to all my requests to not interfere.
Not that I expected it much, considering the circumstances.
Instead, I focused on my specialty—child trafficking rings. What I focused on were the disappearances every single week in different cities of little kids from age five to six.
A group had to be involved. No serial killer operated that frequently, even one who had lost his mind.
I had my suspicions, but I couldn’t check them until my contact called me back; he had been silent for a few days, and it worried me.
Finally finding the key, I was about to slide inside my car when a cold voice from behind spoke. “Agent Melissa, what a lovely meeting.” I tensed, grateful for the gun safely tucked in my belt loops, because I didn’t recognize the man, and by the metal pressing in my back, I knew he was armed. “How about you sit nicely in this car of yours so no one gets hurt,” he proposed, and I rolled my eyes.
We were in a secluded parking lot near the office and almost everyone had left the building because they had people to go home to, unlike me, who spent most of her days at work.
My car was placed between the cameras, so security wouldn’t see me. I quickly listened to his breathing. It was almost nonexistent, which meant he was young, confident, and experienced if he had managed to sneak up and ambush me at FBI headquarters.
But the tip of the gun trembled slightly against my back, so I turned rapidly to the side, pulled back, and snatched the gun from him so it would drop to the ground. I kept a firm hold on his arm and bent it, causing him to cry out in pain.
Pressing him against the car, I locked that one arm behind his back while the other stayed on the roof of the car. I quickly put on the handcuffs, which were always with me, and asked, “Who are you and what do you want?”
By his thin build, the condition of his teeth, and his body odor, I concluded the guy was either a drug user or alcoholic or both. No one would send such a person to kidnap me, and he couldn’t independently form a plan either, as his entire attention would always remain on his addiction.
Which meant only one thing. “Who sent you?”
Someone would have sent him as a decoy, wanting to plant fear in me. �
�I don’t know,” he muttered, and I pressed him harder, making him groan. “They just promised me a fix if I delivered this message to you.”
“What message?” I asked.
He opened his mouth, croaking through chapped lips, “No one fucks with—” He didn’t get the chance to finish. The screech of tires had me looking up just as several tinted windows opened and gunfire erupted. I dipped down, taking the victim with me, and cursed when I noticed a bullet hole in his forehead.
He clearly was not meant to live.
They continued to fire at my car, and I saw gasoline spilling onto the concrete as I flipped off the safety of my gun, dismissing the thought of calling someone. The alarms in the building had already started to go off, and soon everyone would be here. How stupid could those intruders be?
Then one of the men jogged toward me, holding a rifle in both hands, and as he fired repeatedly, I crawled to other side of the car and prepared to do the same.
They really wanted me dead if they didn’t care about losing one of their own.
Finally finding a good spot, I fired at him, hitting him in the leg. He stopped for a moment but continued to come, so I fired again.
This time, I got his shoulder. He shouted, “Fuck,” and managed to fire again, but I quickly hid.
I counted the bullets in my gun and groaned inwardly when I saw I had only one left. If he came any closer to me, I would get one shot before he could kill me.
“And they told me you were brave,” he called. My brows furrowed at the accent—he couldn’t be from the Boston chain.
Russians? But I shook my head, as it was some other Western European accent. But he didn’t give me much time to dwell on it as we faced off, both of us pointing a gun at each other. I fired at his arm holding the rifle. He cried out and dropped it, and as I rushed to get it, he grabbed me, punching me in the stomach. I sucked in a breath, concentrating on anything but the pain like we were taught in training.
I kicked him in the legs and punched him in the nose, which made him stumble back. I kicked his stomach too. Because he didn’t expect that kind of strength from a woman, I managed to catch him off guard.
I kneeled to get the rifle, but he managed to wrap his arms around my knees, and I fell to the ground, hitting my back painfully as he began to choke me, spitting in my face. “Let it be a message to him.” I placed my arm above his, trying my best to wiggle out of his hold, but it was useless. I noticed the druggie’s gun nearby, almost at my fingertips, but I could barely breathe from his hold. “The fuckup didn’t listen to us. He should have.” Why was someone who seemed to hold so much authority on a suicide mission? “Now you will pay the price.”
I managed to grab the gun and fired into his side, causing his hold on me to loosen, and then I fired again, this time at his chest. He tried to sit as I scooted back and sucked in as much oxygen as possible while still aiming the weapon at him. “Who are you?” I croaked through my dry throat.
The car pulled away as agents came running to my aid. But I needed an answer to my question.
“Tell him Ty nikogda ne ubejish ot nas.” And then he drank something from his ring, and in seconds, his stare became blank and foam formed in his mouth. Poison.
He was dead.
But he had managed to give the message.
It was in Russian.
The translation was “You will never run away from us.”
Who did he mean by he?
Yuri
The car stopped at the airport, and with a nod to Petor, I got out, waving at Oleg who already waited for my arrival so we could safely travel back home.
We had an important contract waiting in Russia and I couldn’t miss this meeting. Initially, I couldn’t wait to leave New York. I hated the city, which always reminded me of the things I tried my best to forget.
Yet this time, an unfamiliar heaviness in my chest bothered me as if I shouldn’t leave. But since it had no logical explanation, I ignored it.
“Yuri,” Oleg greeted, coming down and shaking my hand. “We are ready if you are.”
“Yeah, you can start.” He went back up while I stepped onto the stairs, but froze, squeezing the banister and fighting an internal battle.
My duty told me to get on the fucking plane and handle the situation, but my intuition ordered me to stay.
The wind blew in my face as stewardess shouted, “Please come inside.”
“Yuri?” Petor asked worriedly, but I zoned out of everything and concentrated on the feeling growing inside me.
When you grow up with my kind of upbringing, you learn to pay attention to signs and certain emotions.
The last time I had this kind of fear in me was…
No.
I spun around, barking orders. “Oleg, I can’t go. Fly without me. Petor, to the city, now.” I quickly dialed Connor’s number, and he answered on the second ring. “Listen, Melissa is in danger. You need to find her and—” Nothing but silence greeted me, and I pulled my phone back to check if he was still on the line, and once it was confirmed, I shouted, “Connor?”
“I’m here. Yeah, it’s too late for that.”
My heart stilled. “Late?”
“She was attacked outside FBI headquarters.”
He continued to explain the details while I ordered Petor to go, and as the car navigated through the busy New York streets, only two thoughts nagged on my mind.
How dare they touch her? And whoever organized it… there will be hell to pay.
Melissa might not be mine, but she was still my woman for the time being. And whoever attacked her would face my wrath.
Dialing a number, I waited around five rings before the man on the other end of the line rasped sleepily, “Allo?”
“Gleb, you need to do something for me.”
Chapter Five
Moscow, Russia
Yuri, 17 years old
Digging under the hood of the car, I wiped away the sweat from my forehead and studied the engine, wondering why the fuck this new sports car wouldn't move. Nothing seemed wrong, but no matter how many adjustments I made, it wouldn't start.
“Are we going to spend the whole day here?” Vitya asked, gulping water like a madman, which wasn't surprising given the heat that was killing us.
A lot could be said about Russia, but no one could deny it could be fucking hot during the summer here. A fact that surprised many foreigners.
“We’re going to lose,” Gleb said, resting his arms on his nape. “I don't want that fucker Kiril to win the bet.”
Vitya pointed at him, nodding. “Yeah, he’d be so fucking smug.” They both growled, while Dominic rolled his eyes and inhaled more smoke from his cigarette.
Fed up with that bullshit, I snapped, “Maybe both of you can come here and help me, then? Instead of bitching the whole day. It’s not like I wanted to go in the first place.” Which was the God’s honest truth, because fighting rings where men beat the crap out of each other didn’t interest me at fucking all.
I preferred to either focus on some hard mathematic equation that would give me an advantage in the broker market or sneak out on a date with Savannah who would be coming back soon.
A smile pulled at my lips the minute thoughts of her entered my mind, and I couldn’t fucking believe how lucky I got with her.
She was simply everything.
Funny, caring, loving. She was interested in all sorts of things and read so much. I couldn’t help but stare at her as she spoke about new scientific methods, or when we had deep debates about philosophical accomplishments. With her, everything else always faded away and we were left in a world where nothing else existed, especially the gritty mafia world we were a part of.
It took me a few months to win her over, and she finally succumbed to me and we became an official couple. I could go on for hours about holding her in my arms in those rare moments where I sneaked into her room and spent the night with her.
It was all innocent, but nothing else ever made me this
happy.
“He’s thinking about her again,” Gleb mused and made a kissing sound while the guys laughed. I glared at them.
Sometimes they acted like stupid assholes when it came to my girl. “Not a word,” I warned, and they stopped, but not before sharing a look that I recognized.
For some unknown reason, my friends didn’t like Savannah, and the feeling was mutual. Savannah thought they held me back from my potential, and she didn’t understand why I stayed in the mafia in the first place.
The guys thought she’d never accept our life, despite being born into it, and that I needed someone else to pull me out of this state.
Although they fucking failed to mention what that state was.
Shaking my head from all those complicated thoughts, because I had no fucking solution for them, I dipped under the hood again and then felt a presence next to me.
Dominic placed his hand next to mine, and said, “A relationship with her is dangerous.”
Glancing at the guys who were in a heated argument over something, I turned my attention back to Dom. “Just because she doesn’t like you?” Anger laced my voice, and annoyance prickled through my skin.
“Because she is a Kuzmin. She belongs to another brotherhood. What will happen when the truth comes out?”
“Nothing. We’ll get married.” My words got the attention of Gleb, who stopped what he was saying midsentence, his eyes widening.
They walked closer to us and he whistled. “Have you lost your mind?” Vitya stayed silent, but disapproval rolled off him in waves.
“Careful.”
He didn’t listen though and continued his speech, as if I gave a fuck about it. “Look, Yuri, she is hot and you love her and other girly bullshit that you have going on with her. But this will get you killed!” He shouted the last words, and I closed the hood and stood opposite him while we both breathed heavily.
“As if this life doesn’t kill me.”
He huffed in frustration, while fisting his hands. “I’m so fucking fed up with you bitching about it all the time. If you don’t like it, then leave. But the last time I checked, this brotherhood gave you everything. Even your precious Savannah!” he screamed right into my face, and without thinking, I punched him in the jaw. He stumbled back but then quickly regained his focus and struck at me, and we both tumbled to the ground, the dust picking up around us and getting inside my nose and mouth, but we didn’t care.