Yan is younger, more reckless, less of a thinker and more of a muscle person, who’s always ready to snap someone’s neck and amputate someone else’s arm at the same time. His character is evident in his hair that he keeps long, even though every one of my other men gives him shit about it. He pays them little to no attention because he’s also hotheaded and already has strikes against him that he’d need to answer to.
They’ve been with me since I was young. Kolya and I basically raised Yan, though. They were groomed by my father to be my inner circle. He actually only brought them in to spy on me, but things have long since changed.
Kolya’s muscles flex as he retrieves his phone. Yan has always called him a mountain, because of his physique and his personality. My younger guard is lean, which makes him faster, but he’s still jealous that no amount of training could make him as big as Kolya.
My second-in-command pockets his phone. “Igor has been trying to reach you, sir.”
“Ignore him.”
“Mikhail, too.”
“Don’t pay him any attention. Unless it’s the Pakhan, I have no one to answer to.”
He gives a curt nod as I go through my emails. I periodically change my phone number, and since I recently did so, the elite group of the brotherhood are bugging Kolya on my behalf.
My position in the Bratva is high enough that I get away with disrespecting the other leaders. There are four heads of the brigadiers, Igor and Mikhail being two of them. I’m an Obshchak, meaning the only person I answer to is the Pakhan himself.
The only other member on my level is the Sovietnik, Vladimir, but he’s not demanding. We co-exist for the Bratva as we have been for the past twenty years, ever since we were both officially recruited by Nikolai at the age of fifteen.
Or, more like, Vladimir was recruited. I was born into this world. But even though my father was some sort of nobility in the Bratva, I had to put in the extra work to get where I am. I even surpassed his rank, and continue to do so.
Others think I’m doing it for family honor, when, in fact, I’m interested in squashing everything my father did. If I suppress him, no one talks about him.
My session of reading my emails is interrupted by a number flashing on my screen. I don’t save names on my phone, even though it’s encrypted and I can virtually destroy it the moment it’s stolen.
One of the benefits of my parents’ tyranny is that they taught me to always be ready. Never take anything or anyone for granted.
So when I recognize the digits on the screen, I stare up at Kolya. “Since when does Kirill have my new number?”
He frowns. “No clue, sir.”
I contemplate ignoring him like I did the other two brigadiers, but Kirill doesn’t call to chat.
“Volkov,” I answer.
“Morozov,” he mimics my closed off tone.
“What do you want, Kirill?” I speak in Russian.
“Does this mean I can’t check on you after you’ve been absent from the Bratva’s meeting?” he asks in the same language.
“I’m hanging up.”
“Jesus Christ. Loosen up a little.”
“I’ll loosen up in death.”
“I doubt it.”
“Do you have a point behind your call, Kirill? Because you just wasted time I could’ve used to find out the best investment route V Corp can take in the upcoming months.”
“I’m waiting for a shipment to arrive, so you’re not the only busy one, asshole.”
“You want help with customs?”
“It’s taken care of. That’s not the reason behind my call.”
“Then what is?”
“Information and rumors that I thought you should be wary of. What should I start with?”
Kirill isn’t the type who offers anything out of the goodness of his heart. He’s cunning and only gives when he knows he can take twice as much. If I receive anything from him now, he won’t hesitate to ask me for things in the future. I could hang up and ignore him, but he has his ways of acquiring crucial details that even I can’t get a hold of.
The difference between us is that I’m strategic in a methodical way. He’s strategic but in the chaotic sense. He waits for things to happen before he reacts to them, making him the ultimate opportunist.
“Information,” I say.
There’s a rustling from his end and distant chattering in Russian. I can imagine him and his men waiting at a secluded warehouse in the cold for the shipment to arrive. “Richard Green’s murder is being investigated.”
“That’s nothing new. I know the police have got their noses in it.”
“This is not a police investigation. It’s Vladimir’s. The Pakhan ordered him to look into it.”
I pause as his words register. I expected Sergei to ask me to investigate it further, not Vladimir.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Kirill continues. “I had the same thoughts. Why ask Vladimir when you’re the one who usually takes care of that stuff? Lucky for you, I’m a fast thinker and came up with two possible scenarios. Do you want to hear?”
“Spill. And stop wasting my time.”
“How I keep up with you is a mystery. Anyway, back to my scenarios. One, the Pakhan doesn’t want to distract you from growing our alliance with the Italians. Two,” he pauses for dramatic effect. “He suspects you.”
I tap my fingers on the arm of the sofa as the meaning behind his words reaches me loud and clear. If Sergei suspects me, everyone else does, too. So I choose to probe Kirill, “Why would he suspect me?”
“I don’t know, let me take a wild guess.” He speaks slowly, too slowly, drawing out the words in a provocative manner. “Let’s see. We were all counting on getting Richard to become mayor so we could get our hands on easy shipments without having to threaten the DEA at every turn, but suddenly, he’s dead. Suddenly, the Italians’ candidate is now on the road to be mayor. If I were Sergei, I would suspect the one who’s getting cozy with the Italians.”
Makes sense. At least none of them figured out the actual reason.
“I’d show up more if I were you,” Kirill continues. “Your absence only allows the others to speak behind your back.”
“The others? As in, you’re not involved in the backstabbing?”
“What do you think I am? I don’t bite the hand that feeds me. Jesus.”
“Hanging up.”
“You’re not going to ask about the rumors?”
“Not interested in rumors.”
“It concerns your wife.”
My fingers stop tapping for a second before I resume. If I show Kirill even an ounce of interest, he’ll latch on to it like a mad dog.
He’s an opportunist—a ruthless one at that.
“Still not interested.” I sound bored, even to my own ears.
“Listen anyway and answer with yes or no.” The Russian noises get quieter as he speaks. “Mikhail told us that his wife saw Lia going into Sergei’s mansion all alone at night. Some say she’s betraying you by telling all your secrets to either Sergei or Rai. Some say she’s having an affair with someone there. Is any of that true?”
My jaw tenses. “No.”