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Nickolay ground his teeth together. He knew that Horace was right, but he didn’t like it. He wanted to go after the asshole that was running away, cutting through the yards of rundown houses to get to the alley.
But the Bratva couldn’t afford to be connected to this. Tucking his gun back into his ankle holster, he reached into the dead man’s jacket to take his wallet and phone.
“Let’s go,” he said, glad that they’d been able to take out at least one of these vigilantes. They were starting to cause real trouble in this city, but they were going to learn one way or another that the Bratva ran things here.
* * *
The next day, Nickolay was sitting in the home office of his boss, the leader of the Bratva. Pakhan Alek Razin was younger than Nickolay, but that didn’t matter to him. He respected the man as someone that made sound decisions despite the heavy weight of responsibility that sat on his shoulders.
“The fucking vigilantes?” Alek said when Nickolay was done reporting on everything that happened the night before. “I can barely believe that they are still around. It’s all so ridiculous.”
Nickolay shrugged. “They’re believers, people that think their actions are justified or for the greater good or whatever else they tell themselves. That type is always persistent.”
“Well, they’ve fucked with the wrong people now. We’re going to have to find someone to replace Roco. He was reliable, for a drug dealer, and smart enough not to skim off the top when dealing with us.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Alek nodded as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Stress was clear in the lines of his face. He had a lot on his plate right now, both in the Bratva and his personal life.
“You’re one of my most trusted men,” Alek said. “So, I’m going to be frank with you. Things aren’t looking good for the syndicate. The FBI investigation was already causing trouble for us, having to work in the shadows more than ever before weakens us, and in the criminal world, appearing weak can be a death sentence. Now, these damn vigilantes…”
“Seems like they are attacking us from all sides,” Nickolay said.
Alek was being more honest with him than he would with others in the Bratva. He usually felt the need to appear unflappable, every bit the powerful leader that he was. But Nickolay was just below him in the hierarchy of their organization, so he often got a chance to peek behind the curtain as he provided support to the Pakhan.
“I’m worried,” Alek admitted. “If the FBI finds something on me, a way to lock me up, I want you and Vlad to keep things running, do you understand?”
Nickolay and his brother, Vlad, were the Pakhan’s spies, the two people that he depended on to keep the Brigades in line. They were equal in power and had enough influence to run things if necessary, but it wouldn’t be a long-term solution. The structure of the Bratva existed the way that it did for a reason. The Pakhan needed to run things, to be the leader that commanded respect. The spies enforced the Pakhan’s wishes, providing support and security to the whole syndicate, which included the Brigadiers and the Brigades of foot soldiers that were out of the street, taking care of Bratva business. Changing up that system would weaken it.
Right now, the Bratva ruled the city of Davinapolis. The gangs and small-time criminals didn’t dare stand against them, but that could change if the FBI locked away Alek or any other key members.
Or if they started losing people because of the damn vigilantes.
“Can I ask you something?” Nickolay asked. “Are your concerns amplified by the fact that you’re about to be a father?”
Nickolay knew that not many people could get away with asking such a personal question of him, but they were close enough that he didn’t fear angering the man. Besides, he could be one of the only people Alek knew that would understand. He was a father himself.
Alek leaned back and let out a long breath. “That might have something to do with it.”
“Having a kid changes things,” Nickolay said. “You’ve never been so worried about the Bratva or the FBI before, but you’ve got more on the line now. And I’ve got your back.”
Finally, some of the tension seemed to bleed out of Alek’s body. Nickolay was glad to see it. No matter what obstacles the Bratva faced, he’d be by the Pakhan’s side, taking care of business.
3
ALICE
She wasa bundle of nerves as she approached the huge house. It was no wonder that the Pakhan’s girlfriend was looking for a housekeeper to help take care of such a big place, considering that Roberts’ intel said that she was about eight months pregnant.
Alice scanned the property, trying not to look too obvious about it. There was a fenced-in backyard, but no other visible security measures from the outside. The place even had large windows, but she assumed there was a security system.
There was a rocking chair on the porch, which seemed strangely wholesome to her, but she told herself not to overthink this. And shedefinitelyshouldn’t assume anything.
Taking a deep breath, she rang the doorbell and waited, mentally running through everything that she learned from the information Roberts gave her. On some level, she knew that she was as ready as she could be, but obsessing about the task in front of her was how she dealt with her nervousness.
Alek Razin and Chloe Stuart were likely Pakhan of the Bratva and his girlfriend. She’d been living with him for about seven months, so not long after she got pregnant. They were both wealthy and she sat on the board of three separate charities.
As for Alice, she had a pretty basic cover story. Community college dropout that had fallen into cleaning houses as a temporary job that she never seemed to move on from. She’d recently moved to the city from a small midwestern town where she was born and raised. It was all easy enough to remember.
