After scrubbing my jaw to loosen its tightness, I say, “For a man who flies all over the world, your geographical knowledge is shit.”
As Nikolai’s eyes snap to mine, his hand slips into the back pocket of his jeans. Unlike me, who favors guns over knifes, Nikolai is never without his trusty knife. It killed his father, gave him his throne, and awarded him his queen. His favoritism is understandable.
I love carnage. For years, it kept the blood pumping through my veins as black as my son’s hair. Now, the cravings are nowhere near as severe. That doesn’t mean I won’t sit back and watch the occasional massacre occur, though.
Nikolai isn’t reaching for his knife solely because I’m in his presence. He spotted Collin standing at my side, and a craving for a bloodbath is seen all over his face.
I’m not the only one noticing it. Clover was a nanosecond from lighting Nikolai’s chest up with the scope of his M4. The only reason he didn’t is because I signaled for him not to. If Nikolai wants to take out the trash, I’m more than happy to let him.
Disappointment balls my hands when Nikolai doesn’t sentence Collin to anything but a murderous glare. I want to say it’s because he’s weak and pathetic, but I gave up lying around about the same time I took prostitutes off my agenda. Nikolai is holding back because he doesn’t want to force Justine to see the vile side of our life any more than I wish I could have kept her off my father’s radar. I made mistakes back then, many of them, and only now do I have the chance to make them right.
“Wait for me outside.”
My back molars smash together when Collin acts as if I didn’t speak. He wrongly believes the Petretti blood in his veins will save him from my wrath. I’m not close to reaching the same conclusion, but before I can show him exactly what happens when you ignore my direct order, Nikolai’s goon commences his punishment on my behalf.
He twists Collin’s arm around his back before he distorts his neck in a way that isn’t close to normal. When he marches him to the door, Clover strays his eyes my way. He’s forever on alert. A simple scratch of my nose would see every man in this room taken down in under five seconds, and if the tick in his jaw is anything to go by, Collin would be the first punk-ass on his list.
After taking in a bloody tooth halfway down the hall, smirking when I realize it belongs to Collin, I return my focus to Nikolai. “He’s lucky I don’t pay him for his looks.”
Nikolai tries to ignore the humor in my tone. You can be assured if the mafia kingpin thing doesn’t work out for him, he’ll never be an actor because his acting skills are shit. “Then what are you paying him for? It can’t be his smarts.”
While murmuring about the mess my father left me to clean, I shadow Nikolai’s walk into the den. He isn’t happy I’m here, and the feeling is mutual.
After sitting in the chair his goon just vacated, Nikolai motions from me to sit across from him. I smirk at his gall. It’s the least I can do since my hands are itching to creep for my gun. This is not his turf, so he doesn’t run the show around here.
The smoke from his recently lit cigarette bellows between us when Nikolai says, “You shouldn’t be here without an invitation.”
I shift on my feet to ensure he can see my face before replying, “I could say the same for you, Nikolai. You don’t belong here anymore than I do.”
I don’t just mean in Hopeton. I mean the throne he’s been sitting on the past year. Both our reigns were founded by lies and shady handlings. Only mine is moving out of the shrouds our father cloaked it in.
My thoughts are pulled back to the present when Nikolai discloses, “Justine is with child. My child.”
Images of Justine don’t roll through my head during his confession. All I can see are the tears in Roxanne’s eyes when she demanded for Dr. Klein to scan lower on her abdomen, and the fury that engulfed me when I noticed the boot-size bruise on her hip. It reminds me of how I failed her. How I let my enemies hurt her in a way I swore they never would.
It also has me torn on leaving right now to ensure she never faces that same injustice again and warning Nikolai he should keep quiet about his news. I understand he’s proud of his accomplishment, I get he wants to shout his victory from the rooftops, but he could face more than a takeover bid if his enemies discover Justine is carrying the future heir of the Russian cartel.
We were raised by cruel, heartless pricks, but our enemies don’t know this since they forever peer at us from below. They stupidly believe we were raised with golden spoons in our mouths, and respect by the bucketloads, so they don’t just want us to pay for their inaccurate beliefs, they want us dead for them.
The only way they can do that is by killing the women we love.
I’ll never let that happen to Roxanne. I’d kill every person in this godforsaken kingdom before I’d ever let anything happen to her.
As much as this kills me to admit, I believe Nikolai would do the same for Justine.
Mistaking the determination on my face for anarchy, Nikolai asks, “Why are you here?”
I thrust his cockiness back a few notches by replying, “I’m here to issue a warning.”
“A warning for what?” His tone reveals his mood is teetering. If it’s anything close to the turmoil in my gut, he too will require more than a bloodbath to settle his unease. He’ll need the heated cunt of his woman.
I owe this man nothing. He has disrespected me more than I have ever disrespected him, but Roxanne’s words before I left this morning are still ringing in my ears. It wasn’t by choice, and I’d give anything to change it, but this man is my brother, and I have the DNA evidence to prove it.
With that in mind, I say, “The men Landon mentioned in Hopeton are not my crew. They’re a sanction hoping to get a foothold in my area without my approval.” When wit flares through Nikolai’s eyes, I douse it before it’s half lit. “They’re Russian.”
“Russian?” His voice is as firm as my fists are clenched, but since he doesn’t know me, he once again mistakes where my anger stems from. “Why the fuck would I be interested in a two-bit operation with a main focus on sex trafficking? Despite what your daddy told you, there’s no money in the prostitution conglomerate.”
I take his jab like a man—for the most part. “Rumors are that you’re getting soft. That your focus has shifted away from the game.”
“Soft?” He all but growls his one word. “The only thing about to get soft is your cock when I cut it off and feed it to you.” He lowers his eyes to the gun strapped to my right ankle. “That piece you think I’m unaware of wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for me.” He waits for the anger on his face to reach boiling point before adding, “The guns your crew carry when shipping whores between states are marked with my brand. Even the coke your men sniff off their breasts between shipments was purchased from me.”
Nikolai stares straight at me, pissed I don’t attempt to deny his claims.
Why would I? Guns, whores, and drugs are all our businesses are about. If you’re not trading in it, you may as well be dead.
Humor raises my lips into my infamous half-smirk when Nikolai snarls, “Disrespect me one more time with claims I’m not running my organization to your specifications, and we’ll soon discover who’s soft.” He nudges his head to the door his goon marched Collin out of only minutes ago. “This is your final chance to leave before you discover how hard it is to wipe your ass with your non-dominant hand.”