Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

I 've been watching her all day. Well, technically, I've been waiting for her to finish work all day. Instead of letting her know I'm here, waiting for her, I'm following her down the streets of Melbourne. Wondering where she's going. I stop when she enters a building.

A building I know all too well. What I don't know is why someone like Zoe would be going in there. It's a strip club, owned by the Bratva. I shouldn't fucking be here. We're not exactly on friendly terms with that crew.

I can't walk away now, though. Not when Zoe is in there. I need to find out why. Because if she's on that stage, I will drag her ass off it. Kicking and screaming if I have to. My stomach twists at the thought of her being gawked at by the sleazy fuckers who hang out in that club.

It takes less than two minutes after I walk through the door to draw the attention of the men I would have preferred to avoid. "What the fuck are you doing in our club, De Bellis?"

"Looking for someone. A woman, about yay high." I hold up my hand just below my shoulder. "Blonde, American. You see her?" I ask the two angry-looking Russians.

The moment I mentioned American, their demeanours changed completely. They went from annoyed to downright lethal. Guess they know exactly the girl I'm looking for. Then I make the mistake of taking my eyes off them to look through the dimly lit space.

That's when the first hit comes. A fist slams into my jaw, jarring my head backwards. I duck the next one, but then a third gets me in the ribs. I start throwing back, focusing on the fucker in front of me. Until I'm grabbed from behind. My arms held down.

"Fuck you. Fight like a fucking man, cocksucker," I hiss out while spitting blood from my split lip.

"You're asking questions about a woman you shouldn't even know exists. You'd be smart to forget her," the guy says in a thick Russian accent.

"Yeah, and you'd be smart to remember who the fuck I am," I growl at him. I kick out a leg, managing to swipe his out from under him. Throwing my head back, I connect with the second fucker's face. I hear the sound of crunching bone and smile. His arms drop, but before I can do anything about it, the first guy is back up and laying into me. This, of course, gives the one behind me time to recover.

Two on one, seems fair. Assholes know I'm alone. I don't give a fuck, though. I won't go down easy. They want to try to take me out, they're going to have to work up one hell of a sweat.

For every punch I manage to block, or deliver, I'm hit with two. And by the time my ass is being carried out of the club, I'm fucked. My entire body black and blue and bleeding. I can feel bruises forming on top of fucking bruises. I could call one of my brothers to come and pick me up, but they'd want answers I don't want to give them yet.

I pull out my phone out and text Dom.

Me:

I need you to come get me.

I attach a Google maps location to my message.

Dom:

I'm not a fucking Uber.

Me:

Bring a towel, unless you want blood on your fancy leather seats.

The little dots tell me that he's reading the message. His bullshit about him not being an Uber was just that. Bullshit. I know he'll come and get me.

Dom:

Be there in five. If you bleed on my seats, you're buying the car.

I laugh and then stop and pocket my phone when my eyes flick back to the building. I consider going back in there. I never did see Zoe. But then she walks out the door and starts down the street in the opposite direction. I know she's connected to the Bratva. That doesn't mean I have to like it. But seeing her walk into that club just made me realise how connected she really is.

I don't care who her parents or adoptive parents are. I don't give a fuck about that. Something happened to that woman and I want to know what it was.

I've been trying to dig into it all day, and I keep coming up empty. Zoe Petrov is an alias, and there are no records of whoever she was before that.

When I see the pretentious Rolls Royce roll to a stop in front of me, the number plates reading MCKINLEY in gaudy lettering, I push off the wall and gingerly approach the kerb.

The door opens from the inside, and I fall into the seat. "What the fuck happened to you?" Dom grunts.

"Careful, Dominic, you're going to make me think you actually care about me." I laugh, stopping short when my entire body hurts from the movement.

"It's mere curiosity, asshole. There's no caring involved," he says. "Where am I taking you?"

"Home," I groan.

It takes five minutes of driving in silence before Dom speaks up again. He eyes me from his peripheral. "You went after Zoe, didn't you?" When I don't answer him, he laughs. "Of course you did. You've no sense of self-preservation."

"I'm alive, aren't I?" I counter.

"Barely. I've fed people more alive than you to my pigs, Marcel."

I shiver at the thought. Creepy fuckers, they are. Dominic has a farm a few hours out of town. It's how he disposes of people who need disposing of. He doesn't do it because he needs to. He could easily outsource his dirty work. Dominic is the heir to the McKinley family's billion-dollar empire. But the crazy fucker enjoys feeding his pets. Guy definitely has more than a few screws loose.

"I know you don't want it, but you're getting it anyway," Dom says out of nowhere.

"Getting what?"

"My advice. Dipshit." He pauses and looks across at me. "If it's not serious, like for the rest of your life type of serious, leave her alone."

The glare I send Dom does nothing to wipe the smirk off his face. "Not all of us are the forever type, Dom."

"Like I said, then leave her alone. That girl has gone through enough without getting mixed up in your family's drama."

"What does that mean? What has she gone through?" I shift in my seat to face him. As painful as it is, he has my full attention now.

Dom doesn't answer me and I don't push him for more. When he pulls into the driveway of my house, I turn to him again. "Thanks for the ride. And the advice," I tell him.

"So you're actually going to listen to me and stay away from Zoe?" Dom tilts his head at me.

"I didn't say that." I slide out of the car and slam the door before he can reply.

I enter the house and make it as far as the first step before Gio confronts me. "What the fuck happened to you?"

"You should see the other guy." I laugh. I try to brush past him, but my big brother ain't having it.

Gio places a hand on my shoulder, turning me around. "Follow me," he demands before stepping in front of me. The thing is, he's not just my older brother. He's also the Don of the family, which means if he tells me to follow, I really don't have an option.

Gio heads into the games room, where I fall onto the sofa, lean my head back on the top of the frame, and close my eyes. I really just want to jump in the shower and collapse into bed. Maybe sleep for a few days.

Gio fills a glass with Cinque, without bothering to pour me one. As if on cue, or more likely they've been summoned, two of my brothers walk into the room. Look at me and stop.

"What the fuck?" Santo asks. I shake my head. There's no point telling them the story until Gabe arrives because I know Gio's called them all here.

The doc is the next one to come through the door. He doesn't ask questions, just sets his bag down at my feet and gets to work patching me up.

"What the fuck happened?" Gabe growls when he enters the room a few minutes later.

"You should see the other guys," I repeat. And once again, no one appreciates my humour. These fuckers really need to learn how to take a joke.

They're all staring at me. I get it. I've looked better.

I hiss when the doc presses on my chest and lower abdomen. "I don't need an x-ray to tell me there's at least one cracked rib," he says.

"Yeah, figured. Hurts like a fucking bitch," I grit out between clenched teeth. My fists clench as I embrace the pain.

Gabe pours himself a whiskey, and again, no one fucking bothers to get me one.

"Just stitch me up, Doc. I gotta get back out there and find those fucking assholes," I grunt. I was planning on doing that tomorrow, after I've recovered a little. But now, my anger is building, and I want to find them and put a bullet between their eyes.

"You should take a few days, at the very least, to recover," Doc says.

About twenty minutes later, the doc finally packs up. He hands me a bottle of pain pills and tells me to chill the fuck out. That's not fucking happening, though.

As soon as the doc is out of the room, I push myself off the sofa and onto my feet. "I'm going to fucking kill them all," I hiss through the pain.

"Who?" Gio asks.

"The fucking Russians," I yell out.

"The Russians jumped you?" Gabe asks with a raised brow. We're not on friendly terms with them, but we don't just start fights with each other either.

"Yes," I tell him.

"Where were you?" Gio pins me with that look, the one that would have most men pissing their pants.

I break eye contact first, walk over to the bar, and pick up a bottle of Cinque. Pulling out two of the pain pills the doc gave me and washing them down with the whiskey before turning back to my brother. "It doesn't matter where I was."

"Actually it does. Where were you, Marcello?" Gio repeats.

I feel four sets of eyes on me. "I was at Varka," I admit.

"Why the fuck were you at a Russian club?" Gabe asks.

I shrug a shoulder. And immediately regret it. Shit hurts. "Looking for someone."

"You'll do nothing to retaliate. You shouldn't have been there. You're lucky they left you fucking breathing. Whoever she is, she's not worth this," Gio says while gesturing a hand towards my face.

"I agree with him. No chick is worth… that ," Santo spits.

"Why?" This comes from Gabe.

"What do you mean why?"

"Why were you looking for someone in a Russian club?" he clarifies.

"It doesn't matter." I fall back onto the sofa.

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat but I got shit to do," Vin says before walking out of the room.

"Did you talk to him?" I direct to Gabe while jutting my chin towards where our baby brother was just standing. I could use a quick shift in topic. And truth is, he needs their attention a hell of a lot more than I do. Especially after what we found at one of the properties only Vin seemed to know about. The shit inside those walls was the thing of nightmares.

"I did." Gabe nods.

"And?"

"And nothing. Who's the girl?" Gabe mimics Gio's glare.

"Zoe," I say. "I met her the night of Santo's bucks." I look to Santo and see how he flinches. The pain is still fresh and I really don't want to send my brother over the deep end.

"Why were you looking for her in a Russian club? Is she Russian? Because if she is, that isn't going to end well for anyone," Gabe questions.

"She's not Russian. She's American," I tell him. "I think she has connections to them, though. Haven't figured out what it is yet. I've been looking for her ever since that night."

It won't take my brothers long to figure out that I'm lying. That I know exactly how she's connected to the Russians and the Bratva. Through their Pakhan. Right now, I'm just trying to buy myself some time. So that I can keep digging into her past. And I can't do that if Gabe knows she's connected to the Petrovs.

"Have you got any more to go on than a first name?" he asks.

"A picture." If there's something to be found, Gabe is usually the one to do it. But it's not her name I need. It's her past.

"Send it to me. I'll find out who she is," he says. "Why wouldn't you just come to me?" My brother sounds almost offended. And now, I feel like shit holding back information. I don't usually lie to my brothers. But something about this girl is different. And I'm not ready to share her or risk them trying to stop me.

"If I don't find her by the end of the week, I'll let you do your thing. But this." I gesture a hand around my face. "Is going to draw her out." I smirk. I'm not stupid. I know my brother. Which means I also know he's going to start looking as soon as he walks out of this room. Curiosity always gets the better of him.

"You got the shit beat out of you to draw her out of hiding?" Gabe asks. "That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard."

"No stupider than fucking one of El's friends. She's going to rip your balls off when she finds out." I laugh at him, figuring now is as good a time as any to mention the fact that I caught him balls-deep in one of Gio's girlfriend's friends. "The house isn't soundproof. I saw you two going at it in the kitchen. Word of advice? If you're trying to keep it under wraps, stop with the sex in public places."

"The kitchen is not a fucking public place, and I'm not fucking her. It was a onetime thing. No one else needs to find out, Marcel," Gabe grinds out.

"Your secrets are safe with me," I tell him while offering a sarcastic two-finger salute.