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Kalashand I are parked down the street of a night club close to Boris Stepanov’s restaurant. Bodhan’s lime green car sits outside, having just pulled into a parking space. The neon lights of the club reflect on a ground wet from snowmelt. When Bodhan gets out of his car, he heads straight for the club entrance. The ladies in his car exit through the passenger side, shuffling in high heels to catch up with Bodhan.
Kalash and I get out of the car and head towards him. It takes all of my strength not to pull out my gun and fire at the back of Bodhan’s tattooed skull, but I don’t want to hit the women by accident. Kalash and I walk faster, closing the distance between Bodhan and the women.
The ladies are wrapped in each of Bodhan’s arms, tolerating his caveman attempts at hitting on them. When we’re a store's length away, he lifts the skirt of one lady, exposing her ass while he grabs a handful. The lady squeals and turns. When she sees Kalash and I following them with pistols in our hands, she screams and runs into the street. The other lady turns and repeats the performance of the first, stumbling as her high heels slip on a patch of black ice in the street.
“Consider it a favor, ladies!” Kalash yells to the fleeing girls. “I hear he’s shit in bed.”
Bodhan stands with a pistol in his hand, smirking at the both of us. I’m not sure if he lacks the ability to count, but he’s outnumbered. The pride on his face makes me want to kill him that much more. But I don’t want him to die so fast.
“It wouldn’t be wise to harm me,” Bodhan says in a haughty voice. “That would be an act of war by the Mikhailov Bratva. You’ve got enough troubles at the moment.”
Kalash raises his pistol. “No one gives enough of a shit about you to start a war.”
“I’m an elder now,” Bodhan says.
Kalash bellows a deep laugh. “Who told you that?”
“Boris Stepanov gave up his position,” Bodhan says. “The rest of the Bratva families are allied with him.”
“They won’t be after they see what we do to his family,” Kalash growls.
Bodhan turns to me. “Are you fighting to avenge your brother, or is it because Bruno Stepanov has your little bitch?”
I freeze, feeling a seething hatred grow within me. The Stepanovs already endangered the life of my brother, and Bodhan is suggesting they have Tatyana. He could be full of shit, hitting me where he knows I’m vulnerable. I hate the idea of not being able to protect Tatyana. The possibility of her falling into the hands of my enemy is intolerable.
“She’s their property, Viktor,” Bodhan says as if it’s the most obvious fact ever. “Her father sold her to Bruno a long time ago. She’s been off limits ever since.”
I march to Bodhan and raise the barrel of my gun to his head. “Where is she?” I spit through clenched teeth.
Bodhan raises his hands in mock surrender and laughs. “Chicago,” he announces in a grossly cheerful tone. “I’ll tell you exactly where she is, the location of the warehouse that Vadim’s guns were shipped to, anything you want to know. But understand one thing: kill me and you condemn the Mikhailov Bratva to extinction. You need me alive, Viktor.” He looks at me with a deep satisfaction in his eyes. “You need the Stepanovs alive, much as you might hate them. If you’re fool enough to attack the Stepanovs, you’ll have an army of new enemies in Chicago.”
I look away, reflecting on everything Bodhan told me. He has a point. It’s not wise to attack when we’re so outnumbered. I nod in agreement, knowing that objectively, it’s a bad idea.
“I just learned something about the Bratva elders,” I say as I turn back to Bodhan. “You’ll be the first to hear it.”
Bodhan looks at me in confusion, but it’s clear the temptation is too much for him. “Go ahead,” he says.
“They have a new vacancy,” I say before I fire a round through his tattooed skull.
Chapter23
TATYANA
Ashlyn’s excited squeal echoes through the entire house. I hear a deep rumble of a man’s voice and realize what Ashlyn is so happy about.
I run a brush through my hair and make sure I look presentable before descending the stairs leading to the foyer. I’ve been here a few days already and have been nervous about meeting Ashlyn’s boyfriend, if for no other reason than to make sure he’s truly okay with me staying at his house. For all I know, Ashlyn might have oversold his enthusiasm since she’s wanted me to return to Chicago so much.
The conversation Ashlyn is having with her boyfriend grows louder as I follow the turn of the staircase to the ground floor. Before I reach the bottom stair, I hear a word that makes me clench my grip on the iron banister.
“Malishka…”
I pause before stepping onto the marble floor of the foyer, wondering if I really heard what I thought I had heard. My eyebrows contract in bewilderment.
Is this guy Russian?
I shake my head, convincing myself there is no way that’s possible. This whole ordeal I’ve just been through must have exhausted me to the point of hearing things.
“Hey, I thought I heard you coming downstairs,” Ashlyn says in an overly excited voice. She stands in the doorway leading to the hall. “I have someone practically dying to meet you!” she says in a musical voice.
