Nikolai
Page 15
"Unfortunately, my son is right." My father stands. My eyes follow him as he crosses the room where a fresh pot of coffee sits and pours himself a cup. "My soldiers found nothing. No fingerprints left on the package. The surveillance video from the restaurant shows nothing but a young delivery boy arriving shortly after we did. The boy took off down the street. Nobody has seen him since. It was Victor who felt something was not right and opened the box."
"Where was Sergei during all of this?" I am irritated at the fact my father hasn't shared any of this with me until now.
His hand tightens around the mug. He sits back in his seat and glances across the table at me. "Sergei is dead."
"How?"
"I killed him." My father's eyes flick to the other side of the room where Victor sits, his arms folded across his chest. Victor looks at me, confirming my father's admission with a tight nod.
"Why?" I ask.
My father's face hardens. "He stole from me. Over two million dollars to be exact."
Logan leans back in his chair. "Do you think he was behind these threats against Glory?"
"No. None of that leads back to him or the men he was selling my inventory to. Sergei simply became blinded by his greed. In the end, it cost him his life," my father replies.
"We'll keep our ears to the ground. In the meantime, I want everyone here to keep their eyes open. Report to Demetri or me if you hear or see anything." Jake slams the gavel.
Getting up from my seat, I walk out of the room. "Nikolai," I stop after my father calls my name. I look at him, not hiding my irritation. "You are angry with me," he states.
"I should have known about Sergei's betrayal and death before the others," I'm forward with my disapproval.
"Your attention to the safety of your woman was far more important than Sergei's demise. My decision to keep this information to myself was based solely on those facts, and nothing more." Staring at my father, I try to see his point of view. "Making sure your happiness and future are secure means more to me than you realize, son."
How can I continue to be angry with him after his admission? Besides, I decided to take a step back from many of my obligations. My father could have thrown that in my face, but he hasn't. "I apologize for my anger," I tell him.
My father pulls me in for a brief hug—something he does more often than he used to. "So, how is Leah?" he asks as he pulls away.
Thoughts of her waiting for my return cause me to smile. "She's good."
"We are lucky men, you and I," my father's eyes leave my face. I look over my shoulder and notice Glory standing with a few of the other women across the room.
"I'm happy for you, father," I tell him. "She's good for you."
"I'm happy for you too, son. I have seen a change in you since Leah has entered your life," my father says, his eyes still locked on his woman.
"I was thinking of moving into the guest house," I bring up a topic that's been on my mind since he mentioned he and Glory would be spending more time in Polson. My father finally shifts his attention back to me. "I don't think two couples living under one roof is an ideal situation."
My father nods, placing his hands into the front pockets of his suit pants. "True."
"And I'm looking at another four to six weeks before the construction of my new home is complete," I add.
"I'll inform the staff," my father says and retrieves his phone.
"No need." I stop him from calling. "I'm heading back now. I'll take care of everything myself."
Later that night, after leaving the party being held at the Kings' clubhouse, Leah and I are in the guest house getting settled while eating dinner. "I'm so relieved." Leah sits on the sofa. "To be honest, I like this place better, not that the main house isn't nice. It's just; the guest house feels cozier."
Grabbing a cold beer from the refrigerator, I join my woman in the living room. "You mean more intimate?" Leaning in, give her a quick kiss, then steal a bite of her pizza, making her giggle. A pounding on the front door interrupts our dinner. It seems to be becoming a pattern lately. Sitting my bottle down, I cross the room and answer it. Maxim fills the space, his chest heaving like he's been in a marathon, and I'm suddenly on high alert. "Your father needs you. Glory is in trouble. The enemy is in active pursuit of her and Sasha as we speak."
Fuck.
"You are to stay here with Leah," I order.
"Yes, sir."
Rushing inside, I grab the keys to my bike.
"What's happening?" Leah stands, worry written all over her face.
Before leaving, I press my lips to hers. "Glory is in trouble. Stay put. Do not leave this house. Understood?"
"Yes."
I kiss her one more time, then turn on my heels.
"Nikolai," Leah calls out, her voice a little shaky, and I throw a look over my shoulder. "Be careful."
Gravel flies as I bring my bike to an abrupt stop in front of the clubhouse, and notice my father running toward his car. I jog up to him as he jerks open the door. He looks at me, his face hard with rage, but his eyes filled with worry for his woman. "Gather all my men. I want them to tear this town apart looking for those sons of bitches." My father barks his orders. While racing back to my ride, I place the call, rallying every man we have in Polson, sending them on a mission to find the bastards giving chase to Glory and one of our men. I throw my leg over the motorcycle. Gravel hits the front of my father's car as I take off ahead of everyone.
Not far behind, Victor and my father peel out of the compound parking lot, following me as I barrel down the highway toward downtown. Rounding a bend in the road, I notice an orange glow lighting up the night sky accompanied by thick grey smoke. My gut tells me I won't like what I'm about to see. My breath gets caught in my throat when I recognized the overturned and mangled car on the side of the road ahead. I slow down when police cruisers block the short bridge we need to cross to get to the other side, our only means of getting to town.
Behind me, tires squeal. Coming to a complete stop, I look behind me. The look on Victor's face as he stares forward makes my chest tighten. The passenger door swings open and my father takes off toward the accident scene as fast as his feet will carry him.
"Sir, you can't –" an officer calls out to stop him. The closer I get to the accident, I notice the tire marks scarring the asphalt and shards of broken glass crunch beneath my feet. My father disappears around the front end of the firetruck ahead. Off to the side, firefighters attempt to put out the blaze. With no thought to his safety, I watch my father run toward the fire.
"Stop!" A nearby firefighter catches him, and they exchange words I cannot hear over all the background noise. Before I reach him, my father turns his head toward where the firefighter points, and I follow. Sasha is lying motionless several yards away from the wreckage as a paramedic hovers over him.
Three more vehicles pull up close to my father's car, and our men step out of them, their eyes searching the perimeter, and taking in the chaos. Halted by the roadblock, they can do nothing but watch as everything unfolds, putting precious time between the men responsible for taking Glory and us.
Leaving my bike on the side of the road, I rush to Sasha. My gut tightens at his bloodied, burnt, and battered body. I've known Sasha and his brother, Victor, my entire life. They are my family. Death is inevitable if they don't get him to a hospital soon. Suddenly, my father is standing beside me.
One of the paramedics looks up. "Are you family?"
"Yes," Victor yells from behind us, and I look over my shoulder. "He is my brother." Victor's voice rises above the noise surrounding us.
"Lost his pulse." The EMT standing on the other side of the gurney yells, sending him and his partner into lifesaving mode. Victor drops to his knees, taking his brother's hand in his. "Fight, Sasha!" he yells at his brother. "Fight!"
My stomach sinks.
"How far out is medevac?" The paramedic questions as he begins chest compressions and the EMT bags, giving him breaths of air.
"They have room for one more," he yells over the noise, and Victor turns looking to my father and me, waiting for permission.
"Go," my father tells him.
The distant rumble of motorcycles draws our attention, and I follow my father as he heads toward Jake and his men, who look to have been stopped by the police.
"Glory?" Jake asks, sitting on the back of his bike.
"She's not here," my father speaks loud enough for everyone to hear. All the men's eyes follow the helicopter as it lifts in the air. "Sasha was the only victim on the scene," he tells Jake.
Looking over his shoulder, Jake signals to his brothers sitting on their bikes behind him. "Search the roads for any possible leads that would give us direction to where Glory could be." Following orders, they make their way down the shoulder of the road, pass the ambulance and firetruck.
A short time later, we are back to the clubhouse, with no leads on which direction she was taken. I'm standing beside my brother, when my father receives a call. "Speak," he barks, grabbing the attention of every man in the room. "If she has been harmed in any way—" his hand clenches at his side. "I'm going to find you, motherfucker. When I do, I'm going to kill you," he threatens the person on the other end of the line.
My father briefly closes his eyes, like he's trying to calm himself. "Vadim has her," he declares. My face hardens. Petrov. A war between the Petrov and Volkov families can only end with death. "That was one of Petrov's men, Andrei." The mention of Petrov's right-hand man turning his back on the family surprises me. "He has Glory on my boat," my father informs the men and me.
"The ball's in your court." Jake steps forward. "How do you see this playing out?"
My father answers Jake, "Vadim doesn't like to get his hands dirty. My boat is docked near the furthest end of the Marina. His presence not only here but on my property lets me know he wanted me to find him. We should assume he has an army of men protecting him. "
"He's drawing us in?" Jake realizes, and his face darkens. "This fucker has no idea who he is dealin' with."
Damn right he doesn't. I look around the room. Like us, The Kings are no strangers to violence or bloodshed. Every man in here is willing to go to war.
"How's your supply of weapons?" I question Jake.
"Ready for war, brother," he grins.
"Good. I want to send a few men out on the roads." My father looks around the room. "Nikolai, I'd like you to join them. You know better than anyone what Petrov's men look like. Scope out the area between here and the Marina. They could be anywhere." I nod at his order.
Jake chimes in as he attaches a fully loaded clip into his pistol. "Gabriel, ride out with Nikolai, and take Blake with you."
Wasting no time, Gabriel, Blake, and I rush to our bikes to find clues that may lead us in the right direction. Several minutes pass before approaching the bridge where remnants of the crash still litter the sides of the road. Blowing past one police car and a wrecker uprighting the burnt-out car that carried Glory and Sasha, the three of us keep our eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. We cruise to the Marina before doubling back. Almost six miles before closing in on the accident scene from the opposite direction, my headlights reflect off something white near the ditch on the roadside. I slow my speed, causing Gabriel and Blake to do the same.
A few yards away, my headlight shines on what appears to be the body of a man. Putting my bike in neutral, I leave it parked, running on the side of the road. Navigating a fourth of the way down the shallow ditch, I peer down, taking in the shadowed eyes of a dead man.
"Recognize him?" Gabriel hovers behind me, his frame casting a shadow over a portion of the body.
I study him for a second. "Never seen him before. You?" I reply.
"He's not from around here," Blake states.
With the toe of my boot, I nudge his muddied face, pushing it to the side. That's when I notice the black inked tattoo on the side of his neck. "Fuck."
"I take it his ink means somethin'?" Gabriel asks.
"We need to get back to the clubhouse," I say with venom.
Walking into the clubhouse a short time later, with Gabriel and Blake right behind me, I approach my father. He studies me as Blake informs everyone, "Found a body on the side of the road about six miles from the accident site." His words catch everyone's attention. "I haven't seen his face around here before. But he has a tattoo on the left side of his neck of a scorpion."
"Petrov," my father states, knowing all his men wear the mark.
"We found nothing else between here and the Marina. I would guess Vadim's army is small, and they've camped out closer to Glory's location," Gabriel informs us.
Ready for war, my father glances at the men in the room—our family. "This shit ends tonight," he declares and walks out of the small metal building. He climbs into a car, and I quickly join him.
A few minutes later, silence engulfs us. The only sound heard is the rushing of blood coursing through my veins as my adrenaline increases with the roar of six Harleys following close behind. On the east side of the lake, we come to a stop, opposite where my father docks his boat. Through my window, I watch as The Kings and the rest of our men pull off the road. I step out of the car and glance at every man's face. They've all been to war more than once. We all ready our weapons, waiting for the final words before the battle.
My father grips a revolver in his hand I haven't seen before. "Kill them all."
As we make our way through the entrance, Jake throws his fist in the air. He signals to us, pointing out three men walking the dock about thirty yards ahead. I watch Logan, Reid, and Quinn raise their rifles and aim. Simultaneously, they pull their triggers, and the three men fall. Surging forward, we stride pass the dead men, blood pooling beneath their bodies as we step over them.
Shots ring out, and bullets whiz by, hitting nearby boats. Taking shelter, we wait until the gunfire ceases. Jake quickly puts a bullet through the chest of one guy before ducking behind another boat. Aiming, my shot finds its mark, and I watch another man fall. I suddenly notice my father's boat drifting away from the pier. My father sees it mere seconds after me and takes off running. Bullets whiz by my head as I take off after him. Not stopping, I leap in the air, landing on the boat, then look back over my shoulder, noticing my father hasn't done the same. "Jump!" I yell, and he propels himself off the dock.
His feet hit the deck, hard, causing his whole body to slam into the lower deck door, landing on his back and his weapon skids across the floor, out of his reach. A single shot rings out. Overhead, a short bald bastard is standing on the flying bridge. From the rear of the boat, I raise my hand and pull the trigger. The man sways on his feet before falling over the side into the water below. My father looks back, locking eyes with me before I'm tackled. The large man wraps his hand around my wrist, trying to disarm me. The son of a bitch is massive. He throws his weight into me again, violently slamming my side against the railing. A struggle ensues as I fight to keep possession of my weapon. The instant the end of my gun presses into his gut, I pull the trigger. The man loses his footing, pulling both him and me over the railing. With one hand gripping the rail, I don't look back as I hear his body splash into the water. I pull myself back onto the boat. Looking down, blood soaks the front of my shirt. My father notices as well, and I tell him, "It's not mine." Realizing my hand is empty, I look around. "I lost my gun." Then I look over the railing, down into the water below.
"Stay close," my father tells me, knowing I am now unarmed. We turn our attention to the cabin, climb the stairs, and peer through the glass, finding no
one inside. My father glances over his shoulder, shakes his head, then points to the boat's bow. Quietly, we make our way around the side.
"Show yourself. I know you're here, Volkov." The voice of Vadim stops my father in his tracks, causing me to slam into his back. "I've got a sweet looking redhead standing beside me."
"Fucking touch me again, you prick, and I'll rip your dick off then shove it down your throat." I hear Glory sass.
My father grips the revolver held at his side, and with nothing but my fist as weapons, I have his back as we walk from the shadows.
The moment I see my mother standing next to Vadim, my blood runs cold. "Mom?" I mutter beneath my breath. My eyes dart to Vadim, who has the blade of a knife to Glory's throat with one hand and a gun pressed against her ribcage with the other. "Nice of you to join us," Vadim sneers, his lips upturned in a sinister smile.
A shadow moving catches my eye, and I notice Andrei, one of Vadim's soldiers standing nearby, waiting in the shadows. My attention shifts back to Vadim, but I find it hard to focus on him alone, with my mother standing close by. Vadim jerks Glory closer to him, and she struggles with her hands bound behind her back. Finally, Vadim places Glory in front of himself, using her as a shield. The fucking coward.
"Ivanna." My father says her name with disdain.
"Demetri," her eyes cut to me, her face a mask of cold hard steel. "Son."
"You lost the right to call me your son a long time ago," I grind my teeth. The sting of my words causes my mother to cast her eyes away momentarily. She has no shame. How can she continue to be so heartless?
"This isn't a Goddamn family reunion," Vadim spits. "I don't know how you got tipped off to my whereabouts, but the outcome is still the same. You are here."
"What is your endgame, Vadim? Did you think this poorly orchestrated attempt to overthrow me would succeed? Look around you." My father raises his weapon. "All your men are dead." He then looks at my mother. "And you."
"I've moved on to better things. Once you are out of the picture, we will merge the Petrov and Solov families, becoming the most powerful crime family in Russia." The absurdity of my mother's words do nothing but add fuel to the anger and hate I have for her. She would sell out and turn against her son—her flesh and blood to seek a power that will never be hers.