Page 32 of The Bratva’s Monster

Her face flushes. “I was stone sober. I hope you’re not suggesting that I took advantage of you.” She arches one elegant eyebrow, and the corner of her full pink lips turns up slightly. And as if she’d given me a hypnotic command, my dick stirs, pressing against my zipper.

“However it happened,” I say to her, “I agree with you in that it shouldn’t happen again. That said, I’m still obligated to watch over you. Anything you need or want, all you have to do is call me.”

Her cheeks flush. The underlying implication of that statement does sound sexual. I clear my throat. “You know what I mean, Liz. The other night was just a lapse in judgment that we won’t let happen again.”

She nods in acceptance. “Okay. I guess that’s reasonable. I mean, we are adults. We can handle being in a room alone together.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see that Alex is calling me. “I need to take this,” I tell her. “Call me if you need me, Liz. I mean it.”

She smiles and nods as I answer the call. “Yes?”

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m with Liz.” He sounds pissed. Something’s happened. “What’s going on?”

“I need you at my house in twenty.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.” I hang up and say to Liz, “Sorry about that.”

“I understand. Duty calls.”

I pause before I go, feeling like I need to say more to her, something that might convince her to trust me in one fell swoop. “I mean it, anything, Liz.”

She nods, her eyes widening. Damn, she is bewitching.

I leave without another word. I’m going to have to endeavor to keep any visits to her short. My mind is already swimming with carnal thoughts of her.

Kostya’s already there when I get to Alex’s house, and so’s just about everyone else. There are dozens of cars lined up on the street in front of the Brownstone. Kostya’s standing outside smoking a cigarette. Something I haven’t seen him do in ages.

“Uh-oh,” I say as I walk up. “Last time I saw you smoking was the day after Mom died.”

“An angry Pakhan is a very good reason to pick up the habit again,” he says. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pack, aiming it toward me. “Have one. It’s ugly in there.”

“I’ll pass. The day I need to smoke just to handle my brother is the day you can deem me unfit for this job.”

He scoffs. “It’s your funeral.”

I glance at the door as he leans against the wall next to it, shoving the cigarettes back into his suit jacket. “Wanna give me a heads up? A little warning wouldn’t hurt.”

He blows out a cloud of smoke and says, “Three of our stash houses were hit last night.”

“What?”

He nods. “They got away with about thirty kilos each. Last I heard, he was tearing the brigadiers in charge a new one about it.”

“Shit.” I can only imagine the rage that Alex must be going through. In a lot of ways, he’s like our father was in that he could be decisive with such finality that there isn’t time for anyone to think or react. “We know who’s responsible?”

“The Irkutsks, of course,” he says. “The real question is who told them where the stash houses were in the first place.”

My stomach tightens. He’s going to turn the screws to me about Liz. “I’d better go in there before there’s bloodshed.”

“Right behind you,” Kostya says, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his shoe.

We walk in together and immediately hear yelling toward the back of the house. Russian swears carry down the hall and to us with enough energy behind them to light up a small city. I notice his wife, Nona, standing on the staircase, her arm protectively over her pregnant belly.

“Good afternoon, Nona,” Kostya says and she starts a little, her head whipping around to us as if we’d just appeared out of nowhere. She smiles upon recognizing us.

“Afternoon, Kostya, Rikki.” She looks back down the hall where the yelling is taking place. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so angry.”