Page 5

You’d think she’d be used to terrifying armed men. But the Mafia tended to keep the women sheltered.

“Ugh. I hate women’s tears. They always want me to say some comforting shit. How would I know what to say? I cut off people’s tongues when they say shit I don’t like. Why can’t they just be happy with orgasms?” His head whipped to face me. “Did I tell you about the chick who was pissed I had an Uber waiting for her downstairs?” Kenji asked, his voice taking on an incredulous tone.

Tension released, and I unclenched my hands from the steering wheel. “You mean the Uber that was dropping off another woman to come fuck you?” I asked, smiling as I reminded him of the other detail of that night.

I appreciated what he was doing by bringing up one of his escapades. Kenji was the master of deflection. It was an issue for romantic relationships, but it was a welcomed skill for helping calm me down.

He shrugged a shoulder. “Why waste an Uber already headed my way? I didn’t think it was unreasonable.” He sat up in his seat, turning his body to face me while digging out his phone. “Honestly, she was the unreasonable one. How rude of her not to accept my generosity. We live in fuckin’ New York. I could’ve made her take the subway or walk.”

“Right.” I dragged out the word, eyeing him while he typed away on his phone like a madman as I drove. “Is there something happening that I should be aware of?” I asked, worried about the scowl on his face—usually, it meant shit was going down.

He waved off my concern. “Oh, no. Everything’s fine with Niko. He’s already there waiting for us.”

“Then are you writing a fuckin’ novel or what?” I asked, nodding toward where he was still typing away.

“I’m sending that chick a request for the cost of the Uber.” His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Hopefully, I picked the right girl…”

I barked out a laugh. Kenji was an asshole, and he didn’t give a shit about it. From the corner of my eye, I caught him shaking his head as I pulled onto the road.

“Your poor fiancée. She’s about to be in for a nightmare, and women rarely like those.”

He was right. Most people weren’t the same special type of fucked-up as us, especially women. We thrived on the nightmares—there was truth to them, unlike bullshit fantasies. People wasted away waiting for those pretty lies to turn into truths.

My fingers dug into the steering wheel as I ground my teeth. “It’s how it has to be. Hopefully, for her sake, we can confirm she doesn’t know shit. Then I can lock her up in an apartment and let her be until we finish this. Otherwise…”

I felt Kenji’s eyes studying me.

“Otherwise, she’s about to pay for the sins of another man,” he replied.

I gave a single nod. If she was of any value, we would exploit that. We weren’t good men, and anyone who was part of the Four Families received no love from us.

CHAPTER 3

NIKO

THICK THIGHS SHOULD SUFFOCATE FACES

The stench of piss and garbage stung my nose.

Why were the best vantage points always next to fucking dumpsters? I pulled at the fabric of my shirt. If I had sweat marks, I was kicking their asses for taking so long. For ten minutes, I’d battled the beads of perspirations rolling between my pecs while I waited for the two people in the world I considered family to show up so we could go into my father’s club.

Of course, Boris hid the fucking files here.

There was no fucking way I could do it alone without slaughtering every man who looked at me the wrong way. The Bratva had made my life a living hell.

“Kolay, you represent me. Your body is mine. Your life is mine. There is no weakness in the Bratva.”

Those words had been true until a few months ago. Now I was dead to him; to all the Volkov Bratva. A vibration in my pocket distracted me from my walk down memory lane.

“What?” I asked, my words coming out harsher than intended.

“Why is it you never answer Caleb’s calls like that?”

In the background, Caleb mumbled about how he wasn’t an annoying ass, which was pretty much the truth. That, and Kenji didn’t do well when I treated him too seriously outside of when he was working. A reaction from his childhood. We all had them—quirks and traits we didn’t ask for but bore, nonetheless.

“Are you two close? It’s hotter than Satan’s balls out here tonight, and I already don’t want to be here,” I responded, glancing toward the ugly black building littered with women teetering on heels while slimy men chased them around, attempting to get their dicks sucked. The Bratva had put zero effort into the club’s aesthetics because this crowd didn’t come for the high-end atmosphere. They came for the drugs and a taste of danger.

“Yeah, be there in a few minutes, fucker. Don’t murder anyone before we get there. Or do. I don’t give a shit. I’m already coated in blood,” Kenji responded before ending the call. Knowing him, he probably hoped I did start some shit.