Morally Corrupt: A Dark Romance (Morally Questionable Book 1)

by Veronica Lancet

  A canvas on which I'd carved his sins. Eighty days that he'd survived on IVs and emergency interventions because why should he die faster?

  It had been Vlad who had put a stop to my overboard activities when I'd spent hours trying to resuscitate the scum just so I could hurt him more.

  I was a monster, but I made no excuses.

  Theo, though? He'd kept my demons at bay. Being with him had somehow freed me of Jenna's ghost. And now, it was just something that had happened to me. It was in the past.

  After telling him the circumstances of Jenna's death, he takes me into his arms and tries to comfort me.

  Again, strange.

  I didn't say this to him so that he'd comfort me. I wanted him to know I'm not entirely a savage. I don't just kill indiscriminately.

  He holds me into his arms for what seemed like forever until I suggest we leave.

  "I don't want to be here any longer than needed."

  It isn’t until we are finally home that he opens up about what was discussed in the study.

  "So wait, they want you to get them a meeting with the mayor?"

  "Yes. They knew I have a close relationship with him and that he was a friend of my parents."

  "I'm so sorry, Theo. I never knew my father would go so far."

  I’m sitting at the table in the kitchen, a cup of hot chocolate in my hands. After making his own coffee, he joins me at the table.

  "I can't say it was totally unexpected."

  "What do you mean?"

  "B, don't tell me you've never known your father was involved in illegal stuff."

  "I mean yeah, sure, I had my suspicions, but I never once believed he would force you into this. Especially by blackmailing you... And it's all my fault."

  "It's ok. I told you we will get through this. But I have to ask..."

  "Yes?" I look up into his eyes, and he hesitates slightly.

  "What else does he have on you?" Of course, he would ask that. I remember my father hinting at lots of other skeletons in my closet.

  "Would you believe me if I told you I don't know? Even with Jenna, my nanny, I had no idea he even knew that I poisoned her."

  Theo is pensive for a while before speaking. "We have to find out everything he has on you; otherwise, we will be at his mercy indefinitely."

  I nod.

  "I'll do that. It's my mess, and I'll be the one to fix it. But... just don't leave me. I couldn't bear if you left me, Theo." His hand comes on top of mine, and he squeezes.

  "I seem to have a very increased tolerance to things when it comes to you, B... Just... don't betray me."

  "I could never betray you, Theo. Always for you and with you, never against you." My assurances flow from my mouth, hoping they are enough to convince him, especially now when things are so precarious. If killing those people would solve the problem, I would do it in a heartbeat. But even I can recognize that murder isn't the solution in this particular scenario. The best we can hope for is to play them at their own games.

  "We can't just let them walk all over us," I add, hoping he already has a plan.

  "One step at a time. I'm going to have to talk to Marcel about this, get his angle too."

  "Are you sure? Do you trust him?" It's not that I don't know who Marcel is to Theo, but this information is too sensitive.

  "Of course. I’d trust Marcel with my life. Besides, two minds can work better than one."

  "Three, you're forgetting me!"

  "B, I don't want you involved in this. You could get hurt."

  "You could too! And it's my fault you are involved in this in the first place. I won't stand by and watch you strut in the den of wolves by yourself." He sighs deeply.

  "Fine! But don't do anything without talking to me first. Don't think I didn't see how Enzo was eating you up with his eyes."

  "Deal! And don't worry. Enzo and I have reached an understanding," I say as I stand up to put my mug in the sink.

  Theo grabs me suddenly. "What understanding?" His voice is tense, and if I didn't think the situation was dire enough, I might have teased him for being jealous.

  "Down, boy, he understood that I am not interested. Although I have to say the dynamic between him and his wife was entirely off." I add my observation.

  "She's sleeping with Martin."

  "What?" I let out a scream.

  "I'm fairly sure of it. Enzo doesn't care, though."

  "Why do you think they're sleeping together? I didn't see any signs during dinner."

  "Except them sitting next to each other?" He asks, and I have to agree that it was unusual. "It was also something Enzo told Martin when we left. He said to remind Allegra that their son has a piano recital on Thursday. It seems she's staying with your father."

  "Good Lord," I mutter, suddenly overwhelmed by the many surprises of the day. Who would have thought? Allegra was a beautiful woman, but with my father? Ew. What she sees in that cold reptile is beside me.

  "That does remind me. What do you make of the Irishmen?" I ask him, suddenly remembering Quinn's interest in Theo.

  "Truthfully..." Theo starts, "I couldn't say which ones are more dangerous, the Agostis or the Gallaghers."

  "Did you hear about them in Boston?" As far as I knew, Theo had spent a considerable amount of time in Boston before and during college.

  "Not really, but then again, we didn't move in the same circles."

  "It was odd that Quinn said you looked familiar."

  "Who knows..." He leaves it hanging, but somehow, I am not convinced. Both Quinn and his father are men of very few words. If anything, the fact that he'd spoken that question aloud means there is something behind it.

  But I can't dig any further. Theo is clearly not comfortable with the subject.

  CHAPTER XVII

  Tik Tok... Tik Tok

  I focus on the sounds made by the pendulum on my desk, watching as the silver balls hit one another, producing a sound symmetry that soothes the rage.

  Tik Tok... Tik Tok

  If I stare long enough into nothingness, I can maybe become one with it. Embrace the void that promises nothing but calmness. I close my eyes.

  Tik Tok... Tik Tok

  I can almost feel it. Just like I've been feeling it for years now. That wrath that resides in my body is ready to spill over. And I don't want to imagine what would happen then.

  Tik Tok... Tik Tok...

  Red. The blood. I can almost taste its coppery flavor.

  Tik Tok... Tik Tok...

  My eyes flutter open. I can feel my pupils dilate at the thought of that red liquid. I want to bathe in it, paint myself scarlet from head to toe.

  Tik Tok... Tik Tok...

  Breathe... Follow the sound... My eyes close again and follow the pendulum's sound, leaving behind the rage as a simmering mist beneath the surface.

  Another deep breath, and I have myself under control.

  I look at the time on my phone and realize I should go.

  I leave my office at the club and find Maxim already waiting for me in the car.

  "Skolko lyudei?" Maxim asks me how many people we're taking with us.

  "Tolko ya," I reply, telling him that it's going to be just me

  "Nyet." He shakes his head. "Ne bezopasno" His concern that it isn't safe is misplaced. But he doesn't need to know. When I don't reply, he realizes he can't say anything to change my mind, so he just gets into the driver's seat while I slide in the back.

  I'd acquired Maxim not long after I became Pakhan. He doesn't speak English, but I don't need him for his titivating conversation or lack thereof. His one use is to visually intimidate. His sheer size and tattooed body always make people want to flee. He's supposedly my bodyguard, although he does not know that he is just a front.

  After I left Berserker behind, I had to adopt a new image. The carefree prince persona suited me better in the long run. It also allowed people to see me as human, and not as a myth. A creature of the night that feeds on children (yes, there are some rumors)
.

  After my father's reign of terror and Misha's failed attempt to trump that terror, I'd decided things needed to change. People surrendered to fear and out of fear only to a certain extent.

  No, I wanted something far more valuable to tie me to my people.

  Loyalty.

  I wanted them to follow me not because they were terrified of me, but because they respected and trusted me.

  A little ironic for a monster to care about these things, no? And yet, I do... Because if they see something more than a monster, then maybe there is hope for me yet.

  Although that hope diminishes a little every day. For a few years now, I've been hanging on by a thread. I can feel myself slipping into the abyss that is my mind, and when I succumb... there will be no coming back.

  For far too long, my friend, Bianca, has been my tether to the outside world. But she's slipping too. Or she's already slipped far more than me. First, it was that obsession of hers with the badge. Next came the drugs. Now? It's half-assed kills that leave trails behind. She's getting too sloppy, and I don't like it.

  When she'd called me yesterday to tell me her husband may have found out? I wanted blood. Her blood specifically. It's rarely happened for me to snap when she was concerned, but her thoughtlessness is putting her in danger.

  I shake my head, focusing on the task at hand. After a calming session with the pendulum, the last thing I want is to regress. Especially when I need my wits about me.

  Now that Bianca's screwed up, I need to clean the mess she left behind. Can cocaine addle the brain? I have no idea but based on her recent track record, I'd say a definite yes.

  Not only has she been careless about exposure, but she fucking went and got herself a meeting with an anonymous arms dealer.

  On the Dark Web.

  I'm going to have to bet she was coked up when she did it. Otherwise, I can't explain her stupidity. The practice is generally not safe and given the information that I now have regarding those arms dealers... The situation is more putrid than I care to admit.

  I heard about a few people who were lured by the prospect of experimental weapons, only to be caught in a trap. Although my sources have not been too forthcoming with the information, the pattern of making contact and selling the same type of weapons shows an MO. I'm not about to take any risks when it comes to Bianca's safety.

  It’s not like I have feelings for her. I almost scoff at the word feelings – not something you’d ever associate with me. But we are tied together as a family through our loyalty and sense of honor. And you never let family down.

  We head onto Columbus Avenue, and it's not much longer now until we reach the hotel. I shuffle in the backseat and bring up a bag with some miscellaneous stuff I'd need upstairs and my fake identity. Lucky for Bianca, most of our counterfeit identities match, as we often used to pose as spouses.

  I get the ID and the bag, and I get out of the car, signaling Maxim to wait for me.

  I head straight towards the reception, and in my most charming voice, I say.

  "My wife made reservations for room 204." I slide my documents and watch her give me the green light before handing me the room card.

  "Thank you."

  When I'm finally in the room, I take in the furniture and design, and I think. How should I make the best out of this space?

  After hiding weapons in multiple strategic places and putting a few traps, I go to the bathroom and put on the white bathrobe over my clothes, hiding a few knives and needles. The plan is to sedate him for further interrogations in my basement. The other weapons are Plan B. Hopefully, I won't need them in case the blood triggers my rage. There's also a matter of the hotel carpets...

  I don a long red wig for the piece de resistance and place myself with my back towards the door.

  It's showtime.

  Looking at my watch for the 10th time in the last minute, I finally hear the door open hesitantly. One step. Two steps. The person is coming inside. From the corner of my eye, I look into the mirror reflecting the other side of the room, noting a man dressed entirely in black, making his way towards me. He seems to be of European descent, but I can't make out his features clearly. I can tell that he isn't carrying anything remotely close in size to a rifle, so the sale was indeed a decoy.

  "Miss." He says, and I see him reaching for a weapon.

  Without any preliminaries, I turn, grabbing his hand and twisting it before removing his weapon. He's struggling in my hold, so I quickly reach for the syringe inside my bathrobe. I jab the needle in his skin, pushing the entire liquid into his body. I watch him spasm for a moment before going limp into my arms.

  Alas, the first step is done. Now for the more embarrassing part. I take off the red hair and place it on the unconscious man. I arrange it, so it seems natural, before dressing him in a bathrobe as well. I send a text to Maxim to come to meet me, and while I'm waiting, I clean the room, so none of my toys are left behind.

  I'm thankful the attacker ended up having slow reflexes because it meant I didn't have to draw blood, and subsequently, I didn't have to struggle for control.

  So far, this is a success. I almost pat myself on the back for not getting even one stain on the carpet.

  When Maxim enters the room, he takes the man into his arms, and we leave for my house.

  I have to admit I don't usually dabble in torture, seeing that blood is one of my triggers. But I do have a torture chamber, as any self-respecting Pakhan. It's just that regularly, I have other people conducting the torture. Not even in my heyday as Berserker did I bother with suffering, leaving that for my friend, the master executioner (except for the rare science experiment, but those were strictly educational… one might say).

  Given that Artemis' identity is not common knowledge, even among other Bratva members, I have to be the one doing the honors this time.

  Ah, who said I wasn't a loyal friend.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  "I managed to get a list of all the tenants." Marcel pauses. "I also cross-referenced it with people actually living there. However, she didn't make my job too hard. The apartment is in her mother's name. It's number eighteen."

  I take a deep breath, digesting the information.

  It had been hard to hear about her childhood, but did it really justify her actions? I feel like a war is raging inside me on whether I can accept and forgive Bianca's actions. And somehow, I know deep down that the apartment will shed light on my dilemma, and not necessarily in the right way.

  "Keep Rico on her. I'm going in there when she's at work." If Rico's constantly onto her location, I can avoid meeting her.

  "Sure. It's code-locked, by the way. Eight digits. Might wanna make a list beforehand." Marcus chuckles.

  "Anything else?"

  He shifts his gaze around the office in his usual bored manner.

  "I might have gotten a hit with Jimenez's men. The people I got on the case have some info, but I'm just not sure how reliable."

  "Info about what?" I ask almost too anxiously.

  "Incoming batch of girls for his bordellos. Shipment is supposed to come into the port in two weeks."

  "Why do you think the info might not pay off?"

  "Theo, when was the last time we had this type of info on Jimenez. Reliable insider info? It's too good to be true."

  "I guess you're right." My shoulders slump at the thought. After so much time hunting Jimenez I finally get something, and it might not even be legit.

  "How many people can we get on this just in case the tip pays off?

  "I'll look into it. Not too many since this is under the table. I have some people who owe me favors." While I wasn't involved personally on groundwork, I'd made it my job to get to know as many officers as possible, knowing that someday I'd need their loyalty to bring down Jimenez.

  "I talked to Vlad, by the way. Wanted to check if he knew Bianca after the phone call incident."

  "And?" Vlad was someone I'd met through Marcel, but I knew his reputation, and I als
o knew that Marcel trusted him.

  "He couldn't tell me anything, as expected. But he did say that she's not a danger to us. At least that excludes insider work."

  "That's good to know... although I do think you are a little too paranoid with your insider work. With her father, I just don't see her as a Russian spy."

  Marcel shakes his head, amused. "Especially with her father." then his expression gets serious. "The Jimenez thing is too big. I can't help suspecting if anyone who gets close to us might be a potential implant. They already know we are onto them. The attempt on your life should prove as much."

  "We still don't know whether those men were sent by Martinez or Jimenez. Any luck yet on the ID?"

  "No, illegal immigrants most likely. From what you told me, they barely knew how to use a gun."

  "So it makes Jimenez less likely."

  He nods. "If he saw you as a danger, he wouldn't send amateurs. And he has enough resources to afford professionals."

  "I agree. I would say it's someone from Martinez's side. Family maybe? Someone who knew about the meeting and connected the dots."

  "That's just the thing. I can't find any family on Martinez. But..." He starts, lost in thought.

  "Let's retrace this a little." Marcel's brain works differently, but his insight is always invaluable and spot on. So, I go along.

  "We contacted Martinez, and he agreed for an exchange of information. One million for a list of suppliers on Jimenez."

  "Then he showed up ready to kill, with an empty drive," I add.

  "He never intended to give the info, so why the meeting?"

  "Shit." I get up from my seat, an idea entering my mind.

  "Fuck! I can't believe this. Yeah, they never intended to give us the real shit. They wanted to know who's sniffing around and take them out. We made the arrangements through proxies, so he couldn't know who I was."

  "Until you went there."

  "What if we got this wrong?"