Page 5 of Surprise Bratva Daddy
4
Zane
“This is more important than you realize. It’s more important than anyone does, with the exception of me and Tema,” I growl as I fling open the door to the armored luxury sedan parked halfway on the curb.
Kiro is in the driver’s seat, his hand wrapped around the steering wheel like he’s trying to squeeze oil out of the leather. “I wish I knew why.”
“I’ll tell you why,” I say as I swing into my seat, slamming my door shut. “But step on it. I need you to get to 1-7-3-8 Grave Street as fast as possible.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “We’re already there, sir. Respectfully, none of this makes sense to me.”
I resist the temptation to slam my fist into the dashboard. “We’re at 1-7-3-8 Grove Street, not Grave. You got it? The package was delivered to the wrong address.”
Kiro’s eyes widen as he realizes the problem. “I told the courier the correct address, sir. I swear I did.”
“Just get us there. We don’t have time to waste. I have no clue who lives there and what their next move would be should they find a flash drive in their mailbox. For all I know, they’ll call the police, and then we’re really in trouble.”
Kiro pulls out his phone, quickly typing the new address in and setting it up on the dashboard. He mutters something to himself in Russian as he checks the route, and then we pull off the curb and hit the open road.
Traffic is thicker than the tension in the car, but Kiro is a skilled driver. He weaves through cars like he’s playing an arcade game while I break down the current situation.
“So, Tema upheld his part of the deal, as I assumed he was. The guy is a straight shooter, from everything I know. His courier is trusted as much as we can trust Tema, so I doubt he did any of this on purpose,” I say, pulling a cigar from my jacket before thinking better of it. No need to show how stressed I am.
I have to play this like it isn’t eating me up inside, while still letting Kiro know that it’s a big deal. A very big deal. A multi-billion-dollar deal.
“It’s about the stock market,” I continue. “We spent a whole lot of time and money to get this information. It’s a data dump, a little file on a device the size of my thumb that’s worth more than a thousand Miami condos. It’s our ticket to riches.”
“We’re already rich,” Kiro reminds me, turning down a narrow street and pushing hard on the gas.
I chuckle. “Not like this, Kiro. Not like this. I’m talking billions of dollars here. We need that package. I don’t care if it’s at Grave Street, Grove Street, or the middle of the ocean, we’re going to use all of our resources to get it back.”
“In this case, it could be as simple as knocking on a door and asking for it,” he says, and his words are calming to me.
It could be that simple. I could be stressed over nothing, but when there’s this much on the line, it’s hard not to be. Even the smallest mistake could change our entire future.
“We need to be prepared for anything,” I say as I pull a gun from inside my jacket. I check the magazine, making sure it’s full. The last thing I want is to run out of bullets when I’m caught in a shootout.
Paranoid as it might be, I’m always anticipating one. Since my old rival caught his ass hauled off to jail, I haven’t had to fire a single round, but you never know which way the winds will blow. Fortune often turns to chaos when you least expect it.
There’s always a tipping point, smoke in the air miles before you reach the wildfire. False positives are common, but I have a bad feeling in my gut, a sour sickening twist of organs that only happens when things are about to get really bad.
I check my gun again before tucking it back into my jacket and glancing at the navigation. We’re rolling through a residential area, two minutes away from the target address.
It’s a cruel joke that that’s such a similar address in the same city, but I’m also thankful it’s so close. We won’t waste much time on this endeavor, and I never skip the gym. Muscle doesn’t build itself.
Kiro likes to joke that I’m ninety-nine percent muscle and one percent human, but I disagree. There isn’t an ounce of humanity left in me after what I’ve been through. I’m incapable of love, incapable of empathy, and incapable of caring about anything but money.
Sex, too, but lately less of that. I’m not depressed, I’m just focused on making my fortune before I’m too old to enjoy it.
Besides, women in this lifestyle aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. They’ll lie, steal, and gleefully stab you in the back once you’re no longer useful to them. Forget about opening up and having a real conversation. It’s all posturing. There’s nothing real about it.
I used to think that one day I would get married and have a few kids, but that hope is quickly fading with my age. It’s not that I’m too old to keep up with a wife and kids, but I am too old to deal with the crap that comes from women who directly seek out Bratva men.
They’re nothing but trouble. I’ve seen plenty of men fall for a tall pair of heels and some cheap party tricks, but I have too much to lose to ever be fooled by a woman. If that makes me odd, so be it. I’d rather be odd and rich than normal and broke.
I look over at Kiro, wondering if he feels the same way. I know he was involved with a woman a few years back, but that didn’t last long. It feels like they never do.
Kiro’s eyes are focused on the road, but I can see his jaw clenching. “I’ve got us on track, Zane. We’ll be there in a minute.”
