17. Max

Drunk Nat is adorable. She's so wasted she can barely stand up straight, but at least she has the presence of mind to worry about my intentions.

"What about me?" she asks, now her friends have been taken care of by Kolya and Artem. No doubt they'll be bitching at me later. Rescuing drunk women is not in their job description.

It was pure chance I ended up in the same bar as Nat and her friends.

OK, so maybe not so much of a coincidence.

This was where I first saw her, so I figured there was a good chance she'd be back here again, with it being a Friday night.

And thank God I did check up on her.

Getting this drunk is fucking stupid. Once she sobers up, we'll be having words. If she wants to go out with her friends and drink until she can't walk, then she needs a security detail.

I saw the guys watching her friends. From the way the two women had passed out, I have a strong suspicion their drinks were spiked. I plan to ask Sasha to review the security footage from the bar to be sure, but if I'm right, those fuckers will get what's coming to them.

"You're coming home with me," I tell my malyshka.

"No, I can't do that," she protests. "You're too…" She gestures at me, trying to make a point about something. Not sure what, exactly, but it's cute. "Big."

"Big?"

"Yesh … big."

"Oh, malyshka, I am big, but right now, you're drunk, and before long, you'll be passing out or puking. Or both. So let me take care of you."

As I watch with amusement, the fight leaves her and she slumps a little. The bar crowd is thinning out and the bartender nods in my direction. He knows me and isn't concerned about the fact my guys just carried two drunk women out.

Since Artem has taken the car, I call Konrad and ask him to bring another SUV. He's ten minutes away but the fresh air will do my malyshka good. With a bit of luck, it might sober her up a little.

I gently lift her and half-carry her outside. She's a tiny thing compared to me. Her glossy head barely reaches my shoulder.

The skin-tight jeans she wears are doing wonders for my cock, despite the chill. I'm also not immune to the way her tits press against my chest, all soft and pillowy. An erection surges behind my zipper but I ignore it.

Natalya is drunk and I'm not that kind of guy.

My plan is simple: take her back to my apartment, make sure she's settled in the spare room, and then in the morning, I'll ensure she gets home safely.

Natalya is fast asleep by the time Konrad drops us off outside my apartment building. She snores gently in my arms as I carry her into the elevator and up to my penthouse apartment. Justin on the security desk raises one eyebrow in surprise but elects to keep his mouth shut rather than risk being fired.

I rarely bring women here. And never ones who are fast asleep in my arms.

It would send completely the wrong message, that I'm kind, caring, and not a murderous mafia leader with a fearsome reputation to uphold.

The lights flick on automatically when I deactivate the security alarm. My phone buzzes to say Natalya's friends are safely back in Jane's apartment and that the guys have locked up and left.

I planned to put my malyshka in the spare room, but my traitorous feet took me into the master bedroom instead. I tell myself it's because I need to make sure she doesn't vomit in her sleep and choke to death.

Really it's because I like the idea of watching her sleep.

After carefully pulling off her jeans, socks, and shoes, I tuck her under the covers. Her eyelids flutter and she stirs a little but doesn't wake. No doubt she'll feel like death once she does wake up, but for now, sleep is the best thing for her.

Once she's settled, I head back out into the living room to pour myself a drink and catch up with Sasha.

"What's this I hear about you rescuing some drunk girls?" There's a faint chuckle down the line. I will kill Kolya in the morning; he gossips worse than an old woman.

"It's nothing."

"Really? Then why did you take one of them home?"

"She fell asleep, what else was I supposed to do?" I snap, uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Sasha is right, of course, this is very much out of character for me.

"You could have taken her to a hotel. We own two rather nice ones. Or checked her ID for an address." If he was here, in the same room, he'd be rolling his eyes. I can picture it now.

"Yes, well, I wasn't thinking."

This time he laughs. "Sure, you tell yourself that," he scoffs.

My fist clenches in irritation and I take a restorative gulp of chilled vodka. Now is not the time to lose my shit. Sasha is just being … Sasha. He lives to wind me up. I may be the Pakhan but he's my second, and it's his job to check me. To ensure I'm making the right decisions. To act as a Devil's Advocate.

However, this is one of the few times I wish he'd shut the fuck up and maintain a respectful silence.

"Anything on the warehouse?" I ask, needing to move the conversation away from my baffling decision to bring a strange woman back to my apartment. A drunk one, no less.

Sasha hums down the line. "Nothing concrete yet. The white truck heading away from the docks around the time of the attack was probably stolen. Lost it in a camera dead zone and so far it has not reappeared. My guess is the weapons were offloaded into a different vehicle and the white truck is now abandoned somewhere out of sight."

My jaw ticks. The asshole targeting us - me - is no amateur.

What's their motive? I sip my vodka, still thinking.

"Have the weapons come up for sale on the black market yet?"

"No, and I'd be surprised if they did. Whoever took them likely knows we'll be monitoring any sales."

"Must have a private buyer then."

"I'd say so."

"Get in touch with all our clients. Offer them a sweetener for information. If someone tries to muscle in on our customers, I want to hear about it."

"Sure thing, Boss."

Once I find out who had the audacity to steal my weapons and kill five of my guys, they will regret ever crossing my path. Death will come for them, and it won't be easy.