Vik (Shot Callers Book 2)

by Belle Aurora

  Oh my God. It was Sasha. I was 100 percent convinced Sasha was the guy.

  I attempted to say something. My mouth opened, and I tried to speak, but nothing came out. I didn’t know what to do with this information. Part of me knew she going through something and wanted to tell her it wasn’t a big deal, but the other part of me knew that it was.

  She was right, of course.

  Anika lost her virginity to Lev. She spent the majority of her life doing what she could to appeal to him, to make him notice her. When Lev found Mina, Anika loathed her for the mere fact that Lev didn’t. She purposely got between them, tried to assert her dominance over Lev in a way that was partly crazed.

  And now she had a thing for Sasha? Since when?

  A harsh thought sliced through me.

  Since Lev was no longer available?

  The assumption made my stomach twist.

  Okay. That wasn’t nice. I had no right to judge, but understandably, I had questions.

  Why Sasha? Why now?

  But as she stood in front of me with her shoulders slumped, her chin dipped, and her expression bleak, I tried in vain to cover up my mixed emotions and released her with a small smile and a casual, “Hey. We can talk about this later.”

  Anika’s expression turned grim, and when her eyes met mine, I saw the pain that consumed her. “No, Nas,” she uttered dispassionately, stepping away from me. Her brows marred with the strong pull of her frown, and shaking her head, she muttered, “We can’t.”

  My heart panged at the notion that she couldn’t come to me.

  But my friend was hurting.

  Perhaps now was not the time, but when she was ready, we would talk about this.

  We had to.

  16

  Vik

  I was a veteran at this.

  While boys my age were out playing sports or picking up chicks at the mall, I was in a warehouse downtown with my brothers. No matter how young we were, we could never have been considered kids. We didn’t have toys. No PlayStation or such. What we did have were Glocks, drugs, and attitudes that often times got us into trouble, because Chaos boys were raised with an arrogance and understanding that, yeah, we were better than most.

  Times had changed though. It had been a long time since we’d gone legit. But some things never changed. And the way this guy was looking at me right now made me want to round the table, take out my piece, and put it to his temple.

  In that moment, with the cockiness he wore so openly, I wanted to pull the trigger and watch the light fade from his eyes.

  Unfortunately for me, Roam was my meal ticket. And I had a feeling he already knew that.

  There was something off about this guy, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  He wore a suit well, but it looked as though it chaffed him. His stylish appearance said one thing, but the defensive stance of his said another. His confidence was off the charts, but his obsidian eyes were almost unhinged. His movements were slow and precise, as though he knew I was watching for any sign of weakness.

  Maybe I just didn’t like him because he was Romanian.

  I’d never met a Rom I liked.

  Built like a tank, he was tall and muscular, even more so than I was. His features were sharp and biting. The casual way he leaned back in his chair as though I was no threat to him had my pride aching for a fight. He ran a hand through his dark longish hair and looked at me a while. He was searching me. But, as was my nature, I revealed nothing.

  We sat in silence for as long as he wished, and when he decided to speak, the first thing he rumbled out was “How dirty are you willing to get?”

  With that one query, I learned everything I needed to know about The Disciples.

  They were messy.

  I didn’t have qualms with using my strength against other men, but I would not put my hands on a woman. Not ever.

  My response was terse. “Filthy.”

  This man, who did not look as though he smiled a lot, grinned then. But again… there was something unnatural about it.

  “My kind of guy.” The grin he wore fell away almost immediately, and when he opened the top drawer of his desk, pulled out a tin, and began to roll a joint, he spoke through the process. “You’re unattached. I need the muscle. This might just work out. I know you’re Chaos-born and your pops was pretty high up the ladder,” he spoke clinically, without emotion. “I know you were well on your way to climbing that ladder yourself before Sasha decided to pull the plug. And maybe that suited him.” He licked the edge of the paper and began to roll. “But I don’t think that suited you, did it, Viktor?”

  I said nothing, because it was a moot discussion. Whether or not I was happy in that life did not matter. This was where I was right now, and I did not look back.

  Forward was the way out of this mess.

  Roam finished rolling one joint, then started on another, sparing me the shortest of glances as he did. “I think you want back in, and I know why. This life—” He spread the greenery onto the paper, and his lip lifted slightly. “—it’s a good life, ain’t it? People like you. People like me. Without crime… without corruption… extortion… without men fearing us, what are we?” His brow lowered, and his jaw tightened. “Nothing. We didn’t choose this way of life but”—he cocked his brow—“I ain’t mad it found me.”

  My own brow lowered. I refused to concede, but I felt that. Roam looked to be around my age, similar background, comparable beginnings, but that was where the comparison ended.

  One look at him screamed wealth. His clothes were expensive, the artwork surrounding us was lavish, and the heavy hand-carved mahogany desk looked priceless. I mean, here we were, sitting in a huge building off Madison Avenue.

  Shit. I didn’t even want to think about how much the rent was, and if he’d bought it?

  Hell.

  The guy had dough to burn.

  Jealousy crept up, laid heavy on my mind. And, yes, in that moment, I could see his point. What had living a legit life gotten me? Nothing, stalling on a road to nowhere. And maybe Sasha had done what was best for him and his, but he didn’t stop to think about what it meant for me and mine. And we suffered.

  My father had no working experience outside of Chaos. Not exactly sure how one could write that kind of experience out on a resume, if you know what I mean. Our investments were small and tapped out a while ago. My mother, who never had the need for employment, was now working a small seamstress business from home, and it ate my father raw. To see his woman stepping up and laboring over a sewing machine ’til late at night was all he could bear. The seemingly inconsequential amount she earned was putting food on our table but would never be enough to pay the bills. And they were growing in number.

  Accounts in the red, I was now the sole provider for my family, and while I attempted to draw a line in the sand, I already dipped into my savings far enough to make me worry. And although Anika offered to pay her share, I would rather cut my hands off than take a dime from my sister.

  We couldn’t live like this anymore.

  This life, the one Roam spoke about, was easy for me. And he might have been right. I craved it.

  To live that high again. To be above the law. To have money and the fear of men—it fed the dark part of me. I wanted nothing more than to relive the days of old where I would escape a bloodbath, come home to my woman, kiss those sweet lips, and fuck her nice and slow until the adrenaline coursing through me was appeased.

  That was the life.

  It was a life I missed more than I should have. After all, the past was the past.

  Sasha and Lev had the club. I had nothing. Nastasia deserved more than nothing. She deserved a man, a whole man, not half of one who relied on the kindness of his boys, begging them to throw him a freaking bone in order to live a decent life.

  Don’t get me wrong; they were close to my heart. All of them. But that was their life, not mine.

  Bitterness swept through me, taking away with it another small
piece of the light that was fading fast. My body was becoming a shell, my soul barely glowing in the depths of my despair.

  My life was in shambles.

  I didn’t know how much more I could take. My woman had left me, my friends were oblivious to my struggles, and my family expected more from me than I had to give. Falling apart at the seams, my mental health was failing me. But I kept quiet.

  The thread, however, pulled tight, threatening to snap at any given moment.

  “I think we could help each other.” Roam’s rough lilt cut through my thoughts, and he glanced at me then. “But I need a commitment from you. I’ll do what I can to give you as much work as possible, but from now on—” His eyes darkened a notch. “—I’m your daddy, Vik.”

  My stomach twisted, and my chest tightened along with the cut of my jaw.

  Fuck me, he was a piece of shit.

  This thing, this display of dominance, was nothing more than a dick-measuring contest. I fought a roll of my eyes and sat up taller, refusing to blink at the man who thought he owned me now.

  And Roam’s cheek ticked. “For all intents and purposes, you are one of us, and I don’t take that lightly. The only reason I’m giving you an in is because Chaos was a brutal firm. They did gorgeous work. Tore down the city and rebuilt it on a red square. Fucking beautiful. As for you? Your reputation precedes you, and—” He snuffled out an acidic laugh. “—we are of like stock, you and me. Our anger is our biggest weapon.” He leaned back in his chair, taking a joint and lighting it. He put it to his lips and inhaled deeply, speaking through a smoky exhale. “I’ll admit, I’m curious. I want to see you in action.” I might have been a little surprised when he licked his lips and uttered, “You start tonight.”

  Tonight?

  “I have work tonight,” I returned, and the slight change in his demeanor immediately told me I fucked up.

  Roam stared at me. He stared long and hard until he put down the joint and uttered bored-like, “Yeah, you do.” Long fingers tapped faintly on the edge of his desk, and he muttered dangerously, “For me. I don’t know what kind of trade you think I’m running here but”—he looked over at me through thick lashes and a glare—“when I say you have work, you come running. Whatever else you have going on in your life is not my fucking business. I don’t care if your girl is upset. I don’t care if your grandmother’s sick. I don’t want to know about drama outside of what we do, because—” He paused a moment. “—I don’t give a fuck. Not a single fuck. And if I had a fuck to spare—” he looked me up and down, and his lip curled. “—I would not waste it on you.”

  Honestly, he said nothing I hadn’t been expecting, and obviously, I touched on a livewire with my attitude. I wasn’t an idiot. Even though he was every bit the gentleman, this man’s fists had seen more action than a whore on Sundays.

  Roam would not have made it to the position of crime lord without having shed his fair share of blood. And by the looks of him, he’d painted the streets red.

  My every instinct told me to fight back, but for once, my priorities had me holding my tongue. “No problem.” Seeming appeased by my response, he offered me a freshly rolled joint. I waved him off. “No thanks.”

  Roam’s face wore such a harsh displeasure that, for a second, had my stomach twisting. I had unwittingly insulted him. He held it out a second time, and although I hesitated, I reached out to take it, and he said coarsely, “When your boss offers you a taste of happiness, you take it.” He packed away his tin and muttered under his breath, “After tonight, you’ll need it.”

  I thought it was all swagger.

  It wasn’t.

  17

  Nastasia

  My stomach knotted sometime around nine and hadn’t untangled since.

  Viktor hadn’t shown for work. Sasha was pissed. Anika was quiet.

  Me?

  I was concerned.

  And while Sasha had a few unique descriptors to utter about the situation, he turned his anger on Anika.

  “Where is he?” he bit out, and Anika shrank in on herself.

  “I don’t know.”

  It didn’t sound like a lie, but there was an underlying deception in there somewhere. Anika knew more than what she was telling. I knew this for a certainty when she refused to look at him.

  My brother’s eyes blazed. “Why isn’t he answering his phone, Anika?”

  Lev frowned at Sasha, his brow lowering. “Easy.” At the very same time, Mina’s expression soured as she bit out, “How about you watch your tone?”

  But, rare as it was, Sasha let his irritation take over. He stepped close, forcing a wide-eyed Anika to take a step back, and when she bumped into the bar, he spoke low. “If something happens to him and you held your tongue….” He let the threat fade out, but his meaning was clear.

  Hearing that, my brows bunched. “What is that supposed to mean?” I twisted to face Anika and repeated myself, my pitch higher than before. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Anika stood by in silence, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, and Sasha’s lip curled as his gaze washed over her. “So be it.”

  My brother turned and stalked away, but the moment he was out of sight, Anika let out a shaking breath, and her face crumbled. I went to my friend immediately. I placed a consoling hand to her upper arm and bent to look her in the eye. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay.” She looked around, panicked, and her breathing hitched. “It’s not okay, Nastasia.”

  Oh no.

  My gut sank.

  What was going on? Was Vik in some kind of trouble?

  “Ani.” I reached down and took her hands in mine, squeezing gently. “I need to you talk to me, babe. Is Vik all right?”

  “I don’t know,” she breathed out, and I felt her hands tremble. Eyes wide, she lowered her face and spoke seemingly to herself, “He should have called by now. He was supposed to call.”

  “Where did he go?” I asked as calmly as possible, even though my insides were a mess.

  Her eyes faraway, she muttered, “He wouldn’t tell me the details, just that he had to go.” She blinked up at me as if seeing me for the first time, her fear apparent. “Why didn’t I ask more questions? Why did I let him go?”

  And because those questions were valid and equally frightening, I chose to ignore them completely and instead spare a small smile for my friend while lying through my teeth. “You know, he probably just lost track of time or something.” Anika’s grip on my hand tightened as though holding onto the lifeline I offered. So, I went on. “I’m not worried. He’s been looking after us since we were kids. He can take care of himself.”

  But as I pasted on a smile, my gut sank deeply.

  “Yeah,” she uttered with creased brows, her voice quaking. “He can.”

  I forced that wide smile and released one of her hands to cup her cheek. “He just lost track of time.”

  She nodded quickly, anxiously. “Right.”

  “He’ll turn up,” I assured her.

  “He will,” she uttered quietly through a frown.

  And a little past 3:00 a.m., he did.

  I sat on the edge of my bed, my knee bouncing wildly, holding my cell in one hand while biting the thumbnail of my free hand.

  Eyes wide, I tried once more, dialing the number only to have the prerecorded woman say, “The number you are trying to reach is not available. Please try again later.”

  Once more.

  Over and over.

  Again and again, I tried, but there was no getting through.

  I don’t know how long I sat there in the lamplight, but the sound of a car approaching had my head lifting. A flash of lights flooded my windows, and I stood. Rushing over on bare feet, I peered down from the window to frown at the unknown silver sedan. That frown deepened when I watched him climb out, shut the door quietly, and approach my front door, holding his ribs.

  My heart picked up in pace.

  Holding onto the railing with sweat
y palms, I flew down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and before he even had a chance to use the keys dangling from his fingers, I swung the door open, blinked up at his moonlit form, and cried, “Jesus Christ. Do you even know how worried everyone has been?” How worried I’ve been? “What are you doing here?”

  Darkness hid him well, but that didn’t stop me from observing the shadows on his face deepening, and as he let out a strained sigh, his shoulders slumped. His rough response lit up my every nerve ending. “I don’t know. I just started driving, and the next thing I knew, here I was.”

  Oh, Lord. That was a good answer. A really good one, actually. But the circumstances being what they were meant I had to ignore the butterflies flittering around in my stomach and deal with him.

  My wild eyes softened as the man in front of me leaned against the open doorframe, let out a short gasp, and winced. His face screwed up in pain a long moment, and the need to tend to him was too great for me to fight. I reached out and let my fingers curl around that of his free hand, gently pulling him in, and when his feet began to move, I asked an incensed, “Where were you?”

  His silence seemed louder than an actual response.

  By the time I half dragged him into the dim kitchen, I had already pulled out my phone and dialed. Holding it between my neck and shoulder, I made the short walk over to the light switch. She answered before I had a chance to flick it on.

  Anika’s shaky voice sounded in my ear. It was clear she had gone from frightened to petrified. “Still nothing. I don’t know what to do, Nas. What do I do?”

  “He’s here.”

  “What?” I heard her shuffle to sit up. “Where was he?”

  “I don’t know, but he’s here. He’s fine.” But when I spun to look at him with the lights on, the inside of my stomach curdled, and I gasped a quiet, “Shit.”