After tracing her finger across Vladimir’s eyes, she does the same thing to Oskana, and then to Dimitri’s driver’s license printout. My brows draw close together when she does the same movements again, except this time, she does my eyes, her eyes, then runs her finger over her nonexistent baby bump.
I’m still fucking lost to where she’s trying to take me, but I give it a shot to understand what she’s saying. “Eyes? Is this about their eyes?”
K’s face lights up like a motherfucking Christmas tree before she nods. After tapping the photo frame she’s holding two times to return my attention back to Vladimir—I lose focus anytime her face lights up—she highlights Vladimir and Oskana’s eyes again before saying in a thick accent, “No devil.” After a quick swallow she drops her eyes to Dimitri’s license printout. “Nikolai.”
“That’s not Nikolai. That’s Dimitri. They look similar, but they’re not close to being related…” My words trail off when the truth smacks into me. Well, I assume it’s the truth. It’s farfetched, but if K’s hunch is right, and Nikolai and Dimitri are somehow related, this could be more than a turf war. It could be a takeover bid.
“You’re so fucking smart, K,” I mutter over her lips before kissing her hard on the mouth. Eight, Nero, and I spent hours looking at this with the wrong set of eyes. Now I have a new direction to focus my attention on.
“Get out,” I demand when I reenter Nikolai’s office with K on my heel. When the group of six men ignore my direct order, I growl out, “If I’m forced to repeat myself, you’ll be buried alongside the brothers we lost last night.” My brow cocks when a bottom-dweller wannabe grips K’s elbow to remove her from the room along with him and five of his brothers. “You better get your hands off her before I remove them with my knife.”
The acne-faced punk has bigger balls than I realized. “If this is a business matter, she has no right to be here. Women have no place in this industry,especiallyone like her.”
As my hand slips behind my back, I lock my eyes with K’s. “K…” One letter, and she slants her chin enough her crown isn’t close to toppling, but her face won’t be hit with any of the blood of Fuckface’s brain when I lodge a bullet between his eyes.
As Eight drags the unnamed foot soldier out of Nikolai’s office by the scruff of his blood-soaked collar, grumbling about how he’s lucky his death was quick, I demand K’s eyes to mine.
It takes them longer to float up from the floor than I’m happy about but I’d rather a delay than no response at all. “I didn’t have a choice. War or not, I couldn’t allow him to speak to you like that. You are worth more than any apology he could haveevergiven you. Do you understand? I’d take a thousand bullets before I’d ever let anyone speak to you like that.” Nothing I can say will erase the guilt I feel knowing I fired at her all those years ago. Just like nothing I can say will undo the damage Achim and Vladimir did to her, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to show her she’s worthy.
I gave up seven years ago. I let Cole and Achim get the better of me. I’m not doing that this time around. This isn’t my kingdom, but K is my woman, and she’s more valuable than any castle.
“Come here.” The funky beat of my heart rises to my ears when K immediately jumps to my command. I’m not a chauvinist pig who wants his wife to be a submissive doormat. I’m relishing the way her scent can settle the storm brewing in my gut in an instant. We’re in the middle of a fucking war, yet, one sniff of her hair keeps my head in the present instead of my fucked-up past.
After propping K’s backside onto Nikolai’s desk next to his computer, and removing a handful of blood droplets from her cheeks her hair missed, I ask, “You good?”
Only once the fire in her eyes matches the bob of her head do I commence working out if her theory has any credit. For Nikolai’s sake, I’m hoping his blue eyes are a recessive gene, but I’d be lying if I said part of me isn’t hoping K’s theory also holds merit. Women in this industry are seen as Sir-Now-Brainless said. They have no authority or respect whatsoever.
However, if K is right, her assistance today gives credit to my belief that this industry needs to change. Not just for the sake of our daughter, but for the kid in Justine’s gut as well. Nikolai commenced making adjustments the instant Justine surprised him with news of their pregnancy on the way to Hopeton, and I’ve backed him all the way, except now, I’m drafting a new set of rules.
Nikolai won’t be required to follow them, but the insolent men who believe my family’s legacy ended when Cole killed our father won’t have a choice. If they want to play on my field, they must abide by my rules.
I don’t see that being an easy feat. They thought my father’s rulings were harsh. They’ll learn otherwise when the new ruler of their kingdom is crowned. He has years of injustices to correct. That’ll take more than a bloodbath.
Lucky I know more than a few men willing to get bloody with me.
Seven
Trey
Iblock out the groans of a man being tortured pumping out of the computer monitor’s speakers with my hand before saying, “Again. Ram it down his throat like it’s your cock, Eight, ‘cause I swear to God, if he doesn’t do what I’m asking this time around, I’m gonna order for you to blow a load of lead down his fucking throat.”
As Eight follows my instruction to the T, I stray my eyes to K. She’s resting on Nikolai’s couch—again. Her third night in a row. She’s not eating enough, sleeping enough, and the past three nights have been the longest I’ve gone without her quivering beneath me for months. I’m fucking pissed, but more than anything, I’m over disrespectful fuckfaces who think it’s a free-for-all since neither Nikolai, Rico, or Justine have been sighted the past three days. Not even Dimitri knows where they are, and he was there when Nikolai’s crew were blindsided by an unknown crew.
In case you’re wondering, K’s theory stacked up. Vladimir had a ton of kids, but not one of them were born with icy blue eyes. Nikolai’s eyes are icy blue. They’re identical to Dimitri’s is every way. Even their hair coloring is a match. As was their DNA.
My eyes snap back to the monitor when a muffled, “Seven,” sounds through the speakers.
Aware the Popov’s family lawyer won’t be able to speak with a gun stuffed down his throat, Eight inches it back out.
“Seven…” I hit the old geezer with a threatening look, warning him what will happen if he denies my request again. He’ll be a dead man, and Eight will take his time driving him to hell. He’s a sadistic little fuck who likes messing with his victims psyche as much as he loves fucking eight whores at once.
Mr. Schluter succumbs to peer-pressure rather quickly this time around. He wouldn’t do that unless he believed Nikolai is dead. No one double crosses a Popov and survives. Not even me. “Seven, three, two, nine, A for apple, C for Charlie, a comma followed by an exclamation point, then the letter J.”
If I needed any more proof Nikolai has Petretti blood running through his veins, I don’t once I place in the final letter Mr. Schluter deciphered to me. The once-locked file on Nikolai’s computer doesn’t just contain the results of a paternity test Nikolai ordered over a decade ago, it has a court transcript from when Nikolai went against Vladimir and lost. Nikolai was only sixteen at the time. The shit he accused Vladimir of doing to him isn’t just sick, it slots in the final piece of the puzzle. I’m shocked Nikolai held out as long as he did. I get this industry has rules we must abide by, but fuck, it would have taken him a ton of willpower not to slit Vladimir’s throat when he caught him unaware not long after his sixteenth birthday. I don’t know if I would have had the same gall, and my father wasn’t a monster like Vladimir.
After swishing my tongue around my mouth to loosen up its dryness, I search the file for the document responsible for me breaking Nikolai’s trust. I find it a few minutes later at the very bottom of the screen. It’s Nikolai’s will.
I won’t ever consider the prospect that Nikolai is dead, and I’ll never stop searching for him, but I need to know who his assets will be distributed to if the coroner believes the pool of blood found in Rico’s apartment is enough to rule Nikolai’s disappearance as a homicide.
