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When he’s completely dressed, he comes over and kisses me, as I sit on the bed with the covers around me.
“That was fantastic,” he says and strokes my hair. “Call me. I’ll be here as quick as I can. Any night.”
“I will. I have to work three evenings in a row and then I have two days off. We could see each other on the weekend. Maybe atyour place instead of here. Just in case Gramps or my brother are here.”
“Sure. Call me.”
He kisses me once more, then he leaves the apartment. I get up and head to the shower with reluctance, ready for another evening shift at the hospital. But it was an afternoon to remember, and I can’t wait to tell Michelle all about it. I know she’ll warn me about him and what I’m doing, but nothing will dissuade me from getting in as deep as I can, so I can get as much dirt on him as I can.
If I enjoy great sex with him in the process, who can blame me?
CHAPTER 13
Harrison
The Present…
I wantedto try a different tactic – have a few of my father’s heavies along with Ethan pay a visit to the Ivanov business and force them to bring the diamonds, thus avoiding the whole bank robbery op. My father wouldn’t go for it. He felt that it would be too big of a risk to even enter into Ivanov territory. He may be right, but that doesn’t alleviate my sense that this job is fool hardy.
So, despite my misgivings, I decide to go along with my father’s wishes and oversee the operation.
I want to keep it simple: Get inside. Get the diamonds. Get the fuck out.
Then, it’s over. Ethan can take the business legit, and I can return to my work as a Wall Street money manager and live my life.
Although thoughts of beautiful and very responsive Natalia make me relish the thought of my family going legit. I wouldn’tbe embarrassed to talk about them, if I could talk about legitimate business rather than one that’s all mobbed up. I can offer advice to my father and brother as they try to function in a world free from organized crime.
Cars drive by as I stand on the busy street corner, a duffel bag filled with weapons in hand, and a mask covering my face. The pandemic, as bad as it has been, at least gives me the excuse to wear a mask. Black leather jacket. Dark camo pants and army boots. Aviator sunglasses to cover my eyes. A Mets cap on my head.
As I wait for my uncle and his crew to arrive, I think about Liam – my reason for all of this. The cost of being hand in glove with the Russians has been too high and my desire for revenge is so great I can almost taste it. I have to take in several deep cleansing breaths the way I used to before an action to get my heart rate under control.
But the knowledge that Sidorov and his gang are responsible for my brother’s death keeps my blood boiling. When I think of him dying because of the drugs he was offered from the Sidorov gang, fresh rage flows through me as if my whole body is a giant capacitor made of nerve, muscle, bone, and sinew. Emotions tightly coil inside of me waiting to burst out like water through a sluice or blood through an artery, but I can’t let them, for control is everything. Keeping it inside, channeling it, using it. That’s what I have to do to succeed.
Revenge is best served cold, or so they say. I have to be absolutely in control of myself – of everything. The rush of adrenaline makes my blood hot, so I have to calm myself.
Even though my older brother is attempting to pull off a bank heist against the Russian mob, I don’t care about the money. Money never made me happy. It’s a means to an end, nothing more, but nothing less either. My brother has to pay off a lot of officials if he hopes to succeed and get the family free fromthe Russian mafia’s grip. Money makes the world go around. We have to take the diamonds back to finally extricate the business from the dark underworld that runs the waterfront.
The van drives up and a door opens, ushering us one step closer to achieving the mission. Once inside, I hand out the weapons we'll use in the heist. The men Ethan hired aren’t former spec ops like my usual team. He’s using local hoods to carry off this operation. The difference between my former brothers-in-arms and these men is huge. All these petty hoods want is a share. They are in it for crass financial gain, willing to risk their lives if necessary to kill, for a share of the haul. Not for honor. Not for a cause. Not for the greater good.
For a share.
I can barely stand to be in their presence.
Small men with no imagination, thugs with no vision, with no overarching motive than to get more money, to get more things, to fuck more women, to drink more booze or do more drugs. Every last one of them will end up like everyone else.
Dead.
Rotting in the grave with nothing to show for their life but failure. Killed in some shootout or from old age in a prison.
I’ll help my brother with this one last operation and then we’re out. I’ll help him take the business legit. Clean up our name. Then, maybe we can escape our family’s dark legacy.
The SUV screeches to a halt outside the bank, and we jump out, assault weapons in hand. One hood mans the front entrance, while the rest of us enter. The hood named Barnes gets the attention of the bank customers with a loud spray of automatic gunfire into the air. People scream and duck, falling to the floor like dominoes knocked over by some malevolent force. Unknown to Barnes or the customers, he’s firing blanks. While I gave the men instructions that no civilians were to be hurt, Ican’t trust them to follow through and so I have to be on my guard.
I made sure that I was in charge of arranging the weapons…
I see a young woman dressed in scrubs crouched down behind a pillar, her hands over her head, covering her face.
Then, I recognize her.
