Hating the Bratva

by K. D Clark

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 by K.D Clark

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  First paperback edition January 2021

  https://kdclark.blog/

  Hating the Bratva

  by K.D Clark

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

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  Delaney

  Alek

  Delaney

  Alek

  Delaney

  Alek

  Delaney

  Delaney

  Alek

  Delaney

  Alek

  Delaney

  Alek

  Delaney

  Alek

  Delaney

  Alek

  Delaney

  Alek

  One week later | Delaney

  Notes

  ALSO BY K.D CLARK | The New York Capos Series:

  Merciless Queen | Twisted Judgement | Apprehension | Standalones: | Savage Spades

  Dirty Empire

  King of The Bronx

  About the Author

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  ALSO BY K.D CLARK

  Merciless Queen

  Twisted Judgement

  Apprehension

  Savage Spades

  Dirty Empire

  King of The Bronx

  Escaping the Bratva

  Hating the Bratva

  Delaney

  “Smile,” my mother whispers in my ear. Her Chanel perfume fills my nose as she leans away to talk with the Mayor’s wife. I plaster on a fake smile, but I’m not able to hold it up for long. I’m not sure how my mom does it. She wears that counterfeit smile like a second skin. The ballroom in the hotel is decorated with black and gold. From what I’ve overheard, they asked explicitly not to use any red in the decor because some of the politicians could be changing parties next year. This place is full of politicians, just like my father. They look the part; dressed in nice suits and clean-shaven. They also have wives with fake smiles who speak to my mom about all the rumors swirling around this elite group of people.

  Among them, blending in and mingling as if they belonged, are Russian mobsters. I recognize them from growing up in the Bratva. They blend in well, just like my father.

  I’ve attended many events like this over my nineteen years, each one more painful than the next. Or maybe that’s because my tolerance for bullshit lowers with each year of my life.

  I take a sip of the champagne set in front of me, and my father gives me one of his famous “watch yourself Delaney” looks from the corner of his eye. If my parents didn’t want me to drink, they shouldn’t have brought me to a place that serves champagne. All the food has been served, which means hopefully, the torture will end soon.

  A man in a pressed suit approaches the stage. Great, now we enter the part of the event where everyone gets up and tells us their life journey to politics while throwing in terrible jokes that everyone laughs at so that he feels better about himself. I stand up.

  “Where are you going?” my mom hisses quietly.

  “Can’t I go to the bathroom?”

  She scrunches up her nose. “Come right back.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Instead of heading to the bathroom, I walk out the french doors that lead to a balcony. I’d spotted this escape cove on my last trip to the bathroom. I hoist myself up on the ledge, not caring if my Vera Wang dress gets ripped up in the process. After pulling out my pack of cigarettes from my purse, I place one up to my mouth and light it. I inhale the Newport allowing the minty taste to relax my body. The cool Boston wind glides against my skin. If I’m quiet, I can hear the waves crashing against the Massachusetts Bay. As a girl, I dreamed of living near the water; it always calmed me. When my parents would fight, my nanny and bodyguard would take me out to the water.

  The french doors behind me open, but I don’t turn around because I know who it is. His presence can be felt in any room he walks in. Goosebumps rise over my skin.

  “I should get home. I have homework to do.” I take another drag of my cigarette and sneak a peek at him. “Don’t say it. Just let me dream for a little while longer.”

  Despite the danger that oozes out of him, there is something about Alek. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t act like I’m invisible like all the other Bratva men do.

  Women are expected to keep the house, pop out children, and obey their husbands. I don’t have an obedient bone in my body. Everyone knows I’m going to be married off to Alek. He’s next in line to be Pakhan, and he needs a wife. At least with him, I know what I’m getting into. I’ve heard horror stories of beautiful, young women getting married off to the grossest man in the Bratva. Alek is far from gross, but he’s eleven years older than me. At just nineteen, most of the men in the Bratva are older than me.

  “How’s the nursing thing going?” he asks, putting his hands in his pockets. His suit fits him perfectly, hiding the tattoos that I know cover his arms. His green eyes seem to glow in the night sky. It’s almost creepy. He’s always reminded me of the superhero Thor with his short blonde hair and broad shoulders. He’s usually clean-shaven when I see him, but sometimes he has a bit of a scuff along his jawline.

  I shrug. “It’s good. I wish I could live on campus.”

  Alek chuckles. “Your father would never allow that.”

  I flick the cigarette, watching as the ash hits the wet grass below. “Yeah, he wouldn’t want me to be far when it’s time to marry me off.”

  A look of sympathy crosses Alek’s face, but he quickly masks it. He probably feels sorry for me, but he follows the rules like all men in the Bratva. They live by a code of ethics; the main summary of those ethics is complete loyalty to the brotherhood. If it’s in my destiny to be married off to one of them, Alek has to stand by that.

  “What’s going on with you?” I say, wanting to shift the focus away from my little pity party.

  He joins me on the edge of the balcony. I’m surprised the wood doesn’t snap in half from his massive frame. He smells like fresh soap. It’s a nice change to the overwhelming scent of cologne that is ever too present in the ballroom. “Business as usual. Nothing specific that I can tell you about.”

  “I heard you bought a house,” I say before taking another drag. Rumors have been circling that he bought it to settle down. I know my time is coming. Alek’s thirty years old. It’s time for him to settle down and start popping out a few kids. Kids that he’ll expect me to carry.

  “You listen to rumors too much.”

  “So it’s not true?” I ask.

  “It is, but I didn’t expect you to know about it.”

  “Dad talks loud when he’s on the phone and even louder when he’s visiting with other men in the brotherhood. I pick up on things.”

  He nods. “It’s a big place. Nice yard. It’s under renovations, but that doesn’t bother me since I’m not home much.”

  Alek’s definition of a big place means it’s probably a mansion, and the yard is bigger than a football field. I take another drag.

  “You think as a nursing student you’d know how dangerous those things are for you.”

  “Let’s not talk about dangerous activities,” I challenge. Alek’s entire life is wrapped around danger. All of
the men in the brotherhood are always in danger. My dad might have the most straightforward job there is. Yes, he has to get re-elected every year and pretend he’s this upstanding politician, but his life is on the line just like everyone else. If anyone found out his connection with the Boston Brotherhood, his head would be on the chopping block.

  “Fair enough.”

  We sit in silence for a moment. I finish my cigarette and let it drop to the grass below.

  “Shouldn’t you be in there?” I ask him.

  “Shouldn’t you?”

  “Tushay.”

  “You have plans next weekend?” he asks.

  I look up at him, my eyes nearly bulging out of my head. Was he asking me on a date? I couldn’t go on a date. That didn’t happen in the Bratva unless the brotherhood already promised you for marriage. Panic swells in my chest.

  A smile stretches across his handsome face. “Calm down. I want you to come out to the house. I need your opinion on some cabinets, flooring, shit like that. I’ll talk to your father.”

  My panic lessens but not by much. There’s only one reason that Alek would want my opinion on the renovations of his house. He must know I’ll be living there. But how soon will that be? The decision of who I’ll marry is left up to my dad and Gavrill, the Pakhan, but Alek and I make sense. It would be stupid for them to marry me to anyone else.

  I nod. “Alright.”

  The door opens and Nickolai, my bodyguard, stands there.

  “Your mother is looking for you.”

  I let out a sigh and climb off the railing. “I’ll see you around, Alek.

  Alek

  I jog down the staircase that has been completely ripped apart by the constructor workers and make my way to the kitchen to start brewing coffee. I need something in my system before my day starts. Although, when you’re in the Bratva, your day never ends. It’s twenty-four hours a day and three-hundred and sixty five days a year. Since I’m next in line to become Pakhan, my days seem even longer. As if on cue, my phone rings. Ivanna. I press the ignore button. She works at one of the clubs that we own downtown. We’ve had a thing going on for a while, but I ended it. She hasn’t gotten over it if she’s still blowing up my phone. I’ve been with a wide range of women over the years to keep me occupied, but now it’s time to get serious. It’s only a matter of time before Gavril tells me that my wife has been selected. I’ll act surprised, but everyone knows it’s Delaney. She’s the only eligible woman right now, and I’m on my way to becoming Pakhan as soon as Gavril steps down. I’ll need a wife soon.

  My coffee finished, and I’m only able to take a sip before my phone rings again. This time it’s Mikhail.

  “Privyet,” I answer. Mikhail’s supposed to be at the bank this morning making some deposits. My job is security and intelligence. I work directly under Gavril to make sure we keep the peace between other brotherhoods, and we stay informed of everything happening in the Bratva, not just in Boston. I also oversee all of the Vory, members of the brotherhood that work as personal bodyguards or provide some kind of protection. I’m in the second-highest-ranking position.

  “You need to get down to the bank.”

  His words are a shock to my system. Nothing good can come from a sentence like that. I set down my coffee and grab my keys off the entryway table. “What’s going on?”

  “I came by to drop off the deposit, but we’ve been hit...hard.”

  “Fuck! Don’t move. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Shut the whole thing down, no one in or out until I’m there.”

  “Alright.”

  I hang up and get into my blacked-out Range Rover. I’m glad I got dressed before making my coffee this morning. We’ve never been hit at our bank before. This is bad, real bad, and only one thing pops into my mind; the Miami brotherhood. They’ve been having problems down there with cash flow. Their Pakhan has a gambling problem and, from what I hear, a nose problem as well. He sniffs up half the drugs they need to sell. Why would they risk hitting us? Something isn’t adding up. When I get to the bank, I’m relieved to see that there aren’t any cops, which means the banker we hired has managed to keep this under wraps. I tap on the glass door twice, and Mikhail opens it for me. Unlike me, Mikhail has been awake for a while getting work done, so his green eyes are wide and awake.

  “What happened?” I say as I step around his large frame and into the bank. Everything looks normal except the fact that the lobby is empty. I glance up at the clock hanging on the wall—seven in the morning.

  “Rick came in to open up this morning, and the alarm system was off. He went to the back, and our safety deposit box was open on the counter empty.”

  “Just ours?”

  Mikhail nods. “Yes, sir, looks like they targeted us.”

  I walk down the aisle to the back of the bank where Rick’s office is. We choose to keep our money here because Rick plays on both sides of the fence. He runs a legal banking business, but he also cleans our money for us. He scrubs our money clean and delivers it back like freshly washed laundry. He’s pacing the length of his office when I walk in. Mikhail stays outside.

  “What the hell happened?”

  Rick stops his pacing and runs a hand over his face. He’s a tall, lanky man with salt & pepper hair and round glasses that he keeps perched on the end of his nose. “I have no idea. Whoever came in here either had the code to the alarm system, or they hacked it.”

  “Your managers have the code?” I ask.

  Rick nods. “Yeah, but they wouldn’t do this.”

  I scoff. “People will do all sorts of things when it comes to money. Pull up the cameras.”

  Rick grimaces.

  “What now?”

  “They were all shut off just before the break-in. The video starts up again right after they must have left.”

  I plop down in the chair across from Rick’s desk, and he joins me. “You know how this looks, Rick.”

  “I know, but like always, your money is insured. Everything will be replaced.”

  If only that was the problem. It’s about more than the money. It’s the fact that someone is targeting us, and our bank is too weak to keep that person out. I won’t admit it to Rick, but we don’t have any other place to keep our money at the moment. Of course, most of our wealth is tied up in nightclubs, restaurants, and real estate, but all the cash is kept right here at Rick’s place of business.

  “Let me see the video.”

  Rick hits a few buttons on his computer before turning it to me. I watch as all the cameras cut out a little after two am and then come back on just fifteen minutes later with nothing out of place. If you don’t watch the clock carefully, you might not even notice they were out.

  “Whoever did this is fast as fuck,” I grumble.

  Fifteen minutes to get into the bank and our safety deposit box before getting back out. They’re skilled, that’s for sure.

  “You need us to vet your employees?” I ask, looking away from the screen to Rick. Mikhail would have no problem slapping some people around to get answers out of Rick’s employees.

  Rick shakes his head. “I’ll take care of it.”

  I stare at him for a minute. I trust the guy, maybe only because I know that this robbery is hurting him more than it hurts us. He’s the one that has to cover our losses because if he didn’t, he’d pay with his life. I still never put too much trust in anybody. That’s when you become a fool. I stand from the desk and button my suit jacket.

  “We’ll be in touch,” I say before stepping out of the office. Mikhail pushes off the wall as I come closer.

  “What are we going to do?” he asks, following me outside.

  “Well, first, I gotta tell Gavril.” As second in command, I always have to tell the bad news.

  “Shit, good luck with that. Gavril’s going to be pissed.”

  I grimace. “Yeah I know.”

  “Any theories in your head of who might have hit us?”

  I lean against my range rover as we talk.
I look around, making sure no one is within hearing range.

  “You didn’t hear this from me,” I start.

  Mikhail nods. “Of course.”

  “The Miami brotherhood has been having some financial problems, but I can’t see why they would hit us. We don’t have any beef with them.”

  Mikhail runs a hand over his beard. “Except for that issue with Ivan.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “What?”

  “You know. He went down there to visit. Got too messed up and fucked someone’s wife. They wanted Gavril to take care of him, but Gavril refused.”

  “How come I didn’t know about this?”

  “I thought you did. You know everything. Maybe Gavril is trying to keep it quiet for some reason.”

  “How’d you hear about it.”

  “Ivan told me.”

  My entire job is knowing everything that could be a threat to this brotherhood, and I can’t do that if my Pakhan is keeping secrets from me. He’s never kept anything from me before. What the hell is this about?

  “You think he’s trying to shut you out?” Mikhail asks.

  I shake my head. “No, I think he has some kind of plan that he doesn’t want to tell me about.”

  Mikhail scoffs. “Great, that means we’re not going to like it.”

  “Probably not. I’ll see you around.” I slap hands with him and watch as he gets into his car and drives off. I hop into my range rover and head towards the clubhouse.

  The clubhouse is a giant compound located several miles off the highway. A twelve-foot fence surrounds it, and Vorys, take shifts standing outside with their rifles across their chest. I give Dustin a two-finger wave as I glide through the gate that he’s opened for me. Three metal buildings make up the compound—each connected by one long hallway that stretches between them. I park closest to the main building and get out. The spring Boston air fills my nose with a mix of freshly cut grass and freshly baked bread. The cooks must have already started making breakfast—some of Vory’s stay here full-time along with Gavril. I scan my finger at the door before walking inside. Pool tables, big screen TV’s, a kitchen, and a bar fill the space. It’s the hangout spot for the whole brotherhood. It’s also the place where we hold meetings.