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“When did you go shopping?” he demands.
“Online. With Mariya’s credit card,” I admit with a wince. “She wanted to help me get some things for the babies. We didn’t go overboard, I swear.”
“Unlikely, knowing my sister,” he mutters.
“I’m the one who put everything in the cart.”
It’s not a lie. Mariya was sitting next to me jabbing her finger at everything I scrolled past, but I was the one operating the mouse.
Yakov doesn’t look convinced, but he stretches one arm up behind his head and leans back against the headboard. “So all of this is because you saw clothes?”
I sigh. “Yes and no. Some of it is about the cute clothes, but I also just realized that I’m ready to know. I trust that you’re going to take care of me and the babies. I’m not… I’m not scared anymore. And I want something amazing to look forward to.”
Yakov watches me for a second, his eyes studying every inch of my face. Finally, he grabs my hand and presses my knuckles to his lips. “Then we’ll go find out.”
51
YAKOV
“Gentlemen,” Dima greets, bowing at my office door before he kicks it closed behind him.
He’s wearing another suit. This one has pinstripes. As Dima walks over to claim his seat on the couch, Nik looks at me, eyebrow arched.
Dima may have joined our team and helped lead a very successful mission to take out two of Pavel Gustev’s businesses in the city, but Nik is not going to let anything concerning the Baranov pakhan slide.
I ignore Nik and lean back in my chair. “Pavel is panicked.”
“You saw that press release this morning, too?” Dima snorts. “I’ve been shaking in my boots all day waiting for the ‘proper authorities’ to come knocking.”
The attacks on two of Pavel’s clubs didn’t go unnoticed. My men cleared out the bodies, but we made enough noise during the violence for the news to go mainstream. Akim’s absence lately was noted, too, but there hasn’t been any talk about his death. Not surprising considering I had his body all but liquified. It’s hard to positively identify a puddle.
The article also included a quote from “an associate of Pavel Gustev” that warned the “bad actors” who attacked his businesses that they would be caught by the “proper authorities” and justice would be served. None of us are particularly scared.
Nik balances on the back two wheels of his chair. “He probably didn’t even write it. From what I’m hearing, he still hasn’t shown his face. It was probably Akim’s old PR team who wrote it up. I doubt Pavel cared enough to fire them and we know he doesn’t care about maintaining his family’s good name.”
“You’re right, Nikandr. Akim’s former lawyer was the spokesperson in the article according to my sources,” Dima adds. “No one could get in touch with Pavel himself.”
“You still have your spies in the Gustev Bratva?” I ask.
Dima smirks. “I have spies everywhere.”
“You should pull them.” Nik drops down to all four wheels and rolls closer. “It won’t be safe for them once Pavel finds out you’re working with us.”
Dima waves him off. “I have time. I wore a disguise during the attack.”
“Your skeleton mask was terrifying,” Nik drawls, “but he’ll find out sooner than later. Your men could die.”
“Which is why we should strike again before he does.” I kick my feet up on my desk. “Pavel thinks he has the numbers to win in a war. If we were fighting him individually, he would. But now that we’ve joined forces, we have the advantage.”
“So we go for the jugular now,” Dima growls, his eyes flashing. “Let’s charge through his gates and tear the fucker up.”
Before I can answer, Nik cuts in. “We don’t know where he is. If we attack without knowing his location, it will tip him off that we’ve teamed up and he’ll be better prepared in a fight.”
Dima frowns. “I fucking hate recon.”
“That’s why Nik will handle it.” I look to my brother for confirmation and he nods sharply. “Nik will track down Pavel while we figure out how to take him and the rest of the Gustev Bratva down without starting an all-out war.”
“And I make the kill shot,” Dima reminds me.
