The Heir: (A Dark Mafia Romance) Bratva Blood

by SR Jones

I don’t get why he’s doing it. Makes no sense.

  My phone vibrates, and I glance at it disinterestedly only to feel my pulse pick up speed when I see K’s name flash on the screen.

  “Da,” I snap.

  He chuckles. “You’re in a good mood.”

  “What do you expect? What would you do if I sent Cassie off to fuck and then kill the French-Albanian mob leader?”

  “Well, if she’d shot you three times, I’d think you were well within your rights.”

  “Would you really? I don’t understand this anyway. It’s a crappy plan. Surely Andrius can take him out sniper-style. Everyone always says what a good shot he is.”

  “This man is super paranoid. He leaves a club, goes to his car. Pulls into his private underground garage. That’s it. He doesn’t go outside. Seriously. Or, if he goes to a club and finds some woman, he takes her back with him, and it’s still the same routine. The clubs and strip bars he owns are in busy places. It would be risky, collateral damage wise, to try to take him out at night with lots of people milling around.”

  “Oh, I see,” I say sarcastically. “But it’s okay for Zoey to be collateral damage?”

  “It rights a wrong.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Come and work with us,” he says, changing tack and surprising me.

  “What?”

  “Leave Moscow, and come join us. You’ve got top-level military training, and you’d be a damn good asset in this. Bring Alexei over full-time and you both commit to this.”

  “No. But … why would you even suggest it? What would happen to Moscow?”

  He laughs. “Well that’s the thing, isn’t it? You know what happens if you throw a ton of food into shark-infested waters? The sharks start fighting.”

  I’m pretty sure that isn’t true, but I don’t correct his terrible natural world knowledge.

  “The Starz Allianz dickheads want Moscow; throw it to them. Throw it to them all, and come and join us here. Help us get our revenge. Alexei too. You, Andrius, Alexei, you would put the fear of God into people. Three of the most respected enforcers the Bratva has known?”

  “What about Bohdan?”

  “He’s in a different place,” K says. “In his head, I mean.”

  “Seems like a moody fucker still to me.”

  Another chuckle. “Yeah, maybe, but a stone-cold killer? I don’t know. People change when they find love. It mellowed him. You? I think you it will make harder. Join us. Join us, and there might be a different way to take the Albanian out.”

  “How?”

  “He goes to a dance club once a month. Sits in the VIP area as if he’s some sort of rock star and lets all sorts of women flock around him. We send Zoey in still, but not to try to kill him; to create a distraction. During that distraction, you, Alexei, Andrius, you hit him and his men hard. Andrius wanted to go in on this like a ghost, and for the rest of them, he can. But the leader? The audacious motherfucker who did this to me, to us—he goes down in public.”

  “You’re giving me an ultimatum, right? Do this, and Zoey is let off the hook. Don’t do this, and the only way for Zoey to pay her debt back is to risk her life?”

  “Yep.”

  “Don’t sound so cheerful about it.”

  “It’s going to work. It’s a good plan. Andrius and I have been going over it for the last few days.”

  “You were never going to let Zoey do this? It was always about bringing me in?”

  “No, Andrius was going to let Zoey do it, but the more we talked and thought about it, we saw a better way.”

  “What about her? How can you ever trust her?”

  “I trust you,” he says simply. “She stays with you, and she can stay at the compound. You and her split, she must leave; that’s the deal. But she helps us do this, and she leaves alive and is free to go.”

  A weird, viciously possessive little part of me triumphs at his words. For Zoey to get what she wants, she still must stay with me. I want to laugh at the way life keeps fucking with the two of us.

  “I don’t know if I want to walk away from Moscow.”

  “Then don’t. You have a choice, but you must know you’re vulnerable as fuck out there now that we know what we know. I’ve been absent a long while out there. The supply chains aren’t what they were. We didn’t police it anywhere as tightly as Ilya has St. Petersburg. He has that area locked down. We haven’t, not in the way we would need to if a concerted takeover attack were to happen. Not while you’re still building your team.”

  Shit, he’s right. Some of our best men left when K walked. I have Alexei and a few old faces, and that would have been fine under normal circumstances, but not now.

  “You’re exposed out there, but if you join us….”

  “This is blackmail, you know?”

  “Yes, it is, but I have the right since your wife shot me up. Luckily for her, and you, I always think five steps ahead, so instead of gutting her, I’ll let you come back and work off her debt by helping me and Andrius put every one of these fuckers in the ground. We take them all out. All of them. It might take us a few months, it might take years, but we won’t stop until every single piece of shit that was high up in this stupidly named new crime grouping is gone. That’s the deal.”

  He hangs up. The bastard just hangs up. No goodbye. No nothing.

  Christ, I need to talk to Alexei, see how he feels about this. I don’t want to say anything to Zoey until I’ve made my mind up.

  I close my eyes and rest my head on the pillow. I think back to the things I’ve seen recently. The way Violet went against Andrius in order to help him, even though she clearly hated to do so. The way Cassie stood so fiercely by K. The way Bohdan and Dasha look at one another. I think back to being with Damen and Maya once and their banter and evident love. Could I have that with Zoey? The one thing I would say all these men are is happy. Maybe not right now, with this threat, but deep down where it matters, they’re happy.

  I’m not happy. I just exist. I don’t feel shitty; I don’t feel much of anything. I do with Zoey, though.

  It might not work between us. Probably won’t work. What are the odds?

  It might, though, a voice whispers.

  I smile and shake my head at myself. I’m going soft.

  ***

  Loud bass shakes the floor under my feet, and people dance, their arms raised high as drinks, drugs, and euphoria combine to create a heady atmosphere. We’re at Club X in a dingy suburb of Paris, but the club is anything but dingy. All the beautiful people are here. Somewhere in the VIP area is our target, Elio. I glance at Zoey, sitting at the bar, legs crossed, taking a drink.

  It has been three weeks since the conversation I had with K, and things have led to this moment in time. Zoey and I, we’re still a thing. I had to go back to Moscow for a few days, but other than that, we stayed in Corfu. We moved into a cottage on Andrius’ property. Zoey avoids most of the people there, and she still gets a frosty reception, but Violet and Cassie love Esme, Andrius too. He spoils her.

  K is still in rehab, but he might be coming home next week to continue recovering there.

  I still haven’t made my mind up completely on what I’m going to do, but I have agreed to taking out Elio, the head of the damn snake, in the dance club he frequents once a month.

  Christ, I’m a nervous wreck. I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs. I wouldn’t be if Zoey weren’t involved in this craziness, but she is.

  I glance around the room. Alexei is by the farthest door, chatting to a woman but on alert. Andrius is dancing with some slinky redhead on the dance floor, and Violet would have his balls if she saw where his hands are right now. It’s all for show. We don’t want to stand together and attract attention. Elio knows who we are, so it would be bad if he noticed us. We’re blending in, or trying to, as much as a group of tall, muscular, inked men can in a club full of pretty kids on drugs. Me? I’m sitting on a couch with a little blonde thing on my lap, and every now and again Zoey shoots me
daggers.

  I like that she’s jealous, and just to fuck with her, because I know it means she’ll fuck with me so good later, I’ll let my palm brush over the blonde’s breast the next time Zoey glances over.

  Next to Zoey is Justina. When she heard about the plan, she insisted on being involved. It seems Justina has a very personal reason to hate people-trafficking scum. The two women look different from their usual appearance. Both have hair extensions, poker straight, down to their waists. They’re covered in fake tan, and their skin is a light walnut. They are caked in make-up with false lashes, and Justina went so far as to have lip fillers last week, claiming she wanted to try them anyway, giving her a big pout. Tonight, Zoey isn’t wearing her cherry lip gloss. That’s for me only. She’s wearing pale, caramel lipstick, and more eye make-up than most of the other women here put together.

  They’re both draped in similar dresses. Spangly, short, slinky material, that dips down between their breasts, and stops mid-thigh. They’re both rocking four-inch heels.

  They take their drinks, and with a glance my way, they sashay over to the VIP area, place their glasses on the wooden shelf running below the plexiglass right by where Elio is sitting, and start dancing. Together. As in … together. They run their hands over one another, slinking their hips and shaking their asses. Fuck, they’re making me hard, and I hope the blatant display is doing the same to Elio.

  It must be because a mere minute later, a man the size of Damen opens the rope and beckons them.

  Game on.

  The plan is for them to make out with Elio a little, then get into a bitch fight over him.

  When the fight erupts, we will do what we need to do.

  In addition to Ilya, Alexei, and Andrius, we have Alesso in the corner. He insisted on being in on the action. Says it’s been too long since he’s seen any, and he misses it.

  Five against, I count, eight. Still, Andrius probably counts as at least two shooters with his skills.

  The big issue will be not hitting any innocents in what is about to go down.

  All the men with Elio are fair game, but the women there are mostly under duress. Or bought and paid for. Or both.

  I edge nearer, as do the others. We all converge below the VIP section at the exact moment Justina screams at Zoey, who is rubbing her tits in Elio’s face—I will punish her for that later—and launches at her.

  Zoey stands as Justina grabs her hair. She throws the contents of the ice bucket on the table all over Justina, hitting two of the big thugs on guard too.

  They immediately begin brushing the freezing water from their jackets as two other men try to separate the screaming, grappling women.

  Elio himself watches with an amused smirk.

  He grabs Zoey and places her over his knee, pulls her dress up, exposing her ass cheeks and the thong she’s wearing, and starts to smack her ass.

  Oh, no. No fucking way. That’s my job.

  “Take it; Elio is yours,” Andrius whispers in my ear as he brushes by.

  He approaches the rope and slips under while the distraction is working. The rest of us are there in moments. Andrius leans as if drunk, stumbling onto one of the men brushing the water from his jacket. The goon turns angrily, and Andrius shoots him twice with a suppressor-fitted firearm. It’s still loud enough to alert the others in the VIP area.

  Elio stands, throwing Zoey to the floor, and she hits the table, going down amongst bottles and glasses. Shit.

  Everything goes in slow motion.

  Andrius raises his gun and shoots another one of the goons twice, chest and head. People scream and run past us as myself, Ilya, and Alexei pile deeper into the VIP area.

  Elio draws his weapon and aims it at Andrius. He gets a shot off, but I’ve already got my own weapon drawn, and I hit Elio in the chest, dead center. He falls back. I turn to Andrius to see him on the floor. He’s been hit. We’re wearing vests under our suits, so hopefully he’s only winded.

  I rush over to where Elio is and put another bullet in the fucker, then I help Zoey up and push her over and behind the sofa, so she’s shielded. The sonic boom of bullets flying is deafening as Elio’s crew are not using suppressors on their firearms.

  Alesso has joined us, and he’s beating some guy up rather than shooting, seemingly enjoying the violence, the weirdo.

  Justina crawls over to one of the goons on the floor, and she takes his gun and aims. I turn to follow the line of her aim and see four more men barreling across the floor, weapons drawn. I aim too, and myself and Justina have two shots before they can blink.

  Damn, she’s a good shooter.

  Ilya and Alexei have dealt with all the guys here, but there will be more soon. There’s a groan from the corner, and I pivot with my weapon raised to see one of Elio’s bodyguards raise up, like something out of a zombie flick, half his face covered in blood. He blinks and raises his gun. I’m about to shoot him when someone else does. I turn behind me to see Zoey holding a weapon. She looks at me, and there’s something new in her gaze.

  Resolution.

  Another minute passes, and it’s deadly silent in the club. Andrius is sitting up, panting, but okay. There’s going to be one ruined vest under that suit of his and some bruised skin.

  He struggles to his feet and walks over to me.

  I glance around. There’s no one left, and we have minutes, if that, to leave before the police pour into the building.

  We turn, look at the DJ who is standing in her booth, ashen. She’s a fucking bitch who has been working for Elio for years and has helped him create a public image as a club owner and playboy that belies what he does under the surface. But she knows a lot of his contacts, and she’s instrumental in spreading the word on what we’ve just done.

  She holds her hands up, and Ilya smiles at her.

  “You’re not on the list, sweetheart, relax. Be sure to tell everyone what went down. We know you’re involved in Elio’s world, so spread the word. Let those fuckers know what’s coming for them.”

  Zoey strides up to us, confident, in control, and as we leave, she starts chatting to Justina. It seems that, by her at least, Zoey is forgiven.

  She’s going all-in on this. She’s going to ask Andrius and K to let her into their venture regardless of what I do, I know it. She already said to me that she pays her own debts in this life. Even if I did stay to work off her debt, I bet she’d want in.

  If I go back to Moscow. I’ll be more exposed than before. Alexei will be back and forth as he’s committed to helping these guys in this war, of which this is only the first battle. Zoey will be on Corfu, being trained.

  And I’ll what … carry on making sure no one encroaches onto what was K’s territory, but which he doesn’t give a fuck about anymore.

  The big question is, do I give a fuck anymore?

  When K left and walked away, I was gutted. Then, I thought about it, and I wanted Moscow. I didn’t have any desire to walk away from that life. I thought what they were building out here in Greece would be boring. And maybe one day, when things settle down, it will. In the meantime, though, there’s a massive war heading their way, so the next few months, if not years, will be anything but boring.

  I don’t like violence for violence’s sake, but I do like protecting my friends and what I see as mine. And Zoey? Somehow, she became mine. I don’t know how or when it happened, just that it did, the same way that I’m hers.

  So I’m at a crossroads, and I need to make a choice. I can’t make it while I’m here surrounded by all that is Zoey. I’m going to head home. Then I’ll make that damn choice.

  It won’t be an easy one.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Zoey

  We get back to the house we’re staying at and fall through the door, talking noisily, all jacked up on adrenaline and violence.

  Esme is staying with Violet tonight. Violet might not like me, but she did save my life for all intents and purposes by talking Andrius down. She also loves Esme and is so ma
ternal and caring that I’d never think for one moment she’d harm my daughter.

  Cassie? Whole other story.

  Ilya is with us, and he’s crashing in the spare room. He went back to St. Petersburg but returned here saying he wouldn’t have missed tonight for the world.

  “Right, you crazy kids,” he says in a mock, and pretty bad, American accent. “I’ll say goodnight.”

  Then he frowns. “Damn, I’m horny. Always am after a battle.”

  “Go phone Amanda,” Vasily says with a laugh.

  “I will, but I think tonight I’ll get Amber.”

  Amber was Amanda’s stage name when she worked as a stripper.

  He winks and heads straight upstairs.

  Vasily turns to me. “You’re all cut up.”

  “I am?”

  I’m shocked. I didn’t feel any pain.

  “Yeah, doesn’t look like anything major, but you’re all scratched and cut from when you fell on the glass. I need to have a look at you, under the dress. See if you’re okay.”

  “Ah, I bet you do,” I say.

  He laughs, but then sobers. “I’m going back to Moscow in two days.”

  My heart stutters painfully.

  We’ve been getting on well while he’s been here. Vasily, Esme, and I have fallen into a routine. Every day he takes her for a bike ride, and I cook at night. We watch old movies together until Esme falls asleep.

  I always knew it would end one day, that we were living in a fake reality, but I didn’t quite expect it to be this soon.

  “Okay,” I say and hate how small my voice is.

  “I need to think,” he tells me, tipping my chin up. “I don’t know what I want.”

  “Okay.” Damn, think of something else to say.

  “I know I want you, Zoey.” He gives me that gorgeous oceanic gaze of his, and I swear I could melt under the beauty of his eyes. Those eyes are what make his face so striking. They’re unique. “I know that much, but I don’t know if I’m willing to walk away from Moscow. I don’t want to hate you in five years’ time; do you get that?”

  “Of course.”

  “You know if you stay here, without me, K will still consider you owe him a debt? They’ll make you work for them. Will it really be that different to the Order? You could be free with me.”