56. Max

The moment I open my eyes, my phone buzzes. Five missed calls and a fuck ton of messages from Sasha and Kolya. Fuck my life. Something has clearly gone down while I've been wrapped up in the sweet arms of my malyshka.

Sasha is right, as always. I am distracted, but I refuse to give her up. She's wormed her way under my skin and into my heart. Seeing how afraid she was last night almost broke me.

I never want her to feel that way again. If Kolanski thinks he can hurt her to stop her from writing her story, he'll have to get through me first.

I'm not an idiot. I understand that a story exposing the dark side of our city will cast an unwelcome spotlight on my activities, but the casino development is above board and the paperwork is legit. There is nothing linking me to the mayor other than in-person meetings and a few phone calls. Certainly nothing that would see me investigated.

Europol knows I'm up to my neck in shady shit but they have nothing concrete on me or the Bratva. And besides, if they do start investigating again, my contact on the inside is paid well to disrupt things and dispose of any evidence they come up with.

Right now, I give no fucking shits what happens to Kolanski. If he ends up splashed all over the Daily Journal and it blows up on X, then fantastic. I hope he enjoys his 15 minutes of fame.

I didn't miss the fact his assistant turned up dead. No doubt she saw things she wasn't supposed to. I never did get to the bottom of why Natalya was so upset the other night when I found her sobbing her heart out, but I have a feeling it had something to do with the woman's death.

Given my malyshka is investigating Kolanski, it makes sense she might have had contact with the woman. It could also be why Kolasnki's assistant ended up dead. The official line is that she was depressed and took her own life, but the unofficial line, according to Sasha, who took a look at the police case file for me, is that she was struck over the head before she ended up in the river: cause of death, drowning.

No doubt Kolanski and his pet, Uriov, have paid off people to prevent that from getting out. As to who killed her, well, the most likely explanation is Uriov handed the task to one of the lesser gangs he's recruited.

The woman was middle-aged. She had no chance of fighting off a drugged-up thug. And now she's out of the way, Natalya could be next.

I make a mental note to increase the security detail on my malyshka. She already has two guys following her around. They haven't reported any issues so far, but it's only a matter of time.

"Where the fuck are you?" Sasha sounds pissed when I return his call.

"At Natalya's." I pull on my pants and stalk out of the bedroom. Natalya is still fast asleep, curled up on her side, her hair a hot mess. She looks delicious and my cock is unhappy I'm not still in bed with her. But as much as I'd love to wake her up with my tongue in her cunt, work calls.

"It's been a shit show overnight. More Ghost Chili fucking up users, who are all blaming us, by the way, because the dealers selling this shit claim to be working for us. Oh, and some assholes hit a bar around 2 AM, where a few of the guys were drinking. It was a fucking bloodbath."

"Jesus fucking Christ. Kolya rang, any clue what he wanted before I call him back?"

"Yeah. He was at the bar when it all went down. He took out three of the guys but the other two got away. Boris and Lazlo were shot but they'll be fine. Both are out of action for a while though. It's lucky Kolya wasn't smashed out of his skull when these clowns arrived, or it would have been a lot worse."

"Why was he drinking in some dive bar?" Kolya isn't much of a drinker. He says his body is a fucking temple.

"No idea, I was too busy wiping all the security footage to ask," Sasha snipes.

"Aleksander," I growl. He goes quiet, recognizing that he's crossed a line. Again. "Do we know who the dead guys are?"

"Yeah. They're all members of some low-level street gang. Or were. Small fry. Absolutely no reason why they'd attack a bar where it's common knowledge our guys drink." I scratch my chin while Sasha pauses. He has more, I can tell.

"Spit it out, Sasha," I snap, not in the mood for his dramatic flourishes.

"The AK-47s they had were from our stolen shipment, so whoever took it armed these guys with our own weapons."

Rage bubbles up my throat like toxic bile. The glass of water I have in my hand shatters, splinters of glass falling all over the floor. There's a gasp from the bedroom door and I look up to see my malyshka staring at me with confusion and concern in her eyes.

"You've cut yourself!" She rushes over and I look down to see blood dripping from my hand. Fuck.

"Natalya! Stay! You'll cut your feet!" She freezes and looks at the shards of glass.

"Sasha, meet me at the apartment. I'll be back in 30." I hang up before he can reply, staring down at my bleeding hand. The worst of the white-hot anger has dissipated, but I'm still furious that some asshole thinks he can come after my Bratva and walk away unscathed.

We need to verify who's behind this bullshit and take them down.

Natalya disappears and returns a few moments later with some sliders on her feet. She's wrapped her body in a silky bathrobe but it doesn't stop me from admiring her curves. My cock stirs in my loosely zipped pants and I inwardly curse.

I need to get going not entertain fantasies of bending my malyshka over the counter and fucking her into a coma.

"Here, let me wrap this," she says in a soft voice, looking up at me through thick lashes. Me talking to Sasha must have woken her. I feel bad for that. She needs her sleep. There are dark circles under her eyes and she looks exhausted, which is hardly surprising with all the stress she's endured lately.

Once I have things under control, I'm taking her away somewhere hot and luxurious, where she can relax and forget about work.

Her soft hands carefully pluck glass shards from my palm and then clean the wound. The cuts aren't too deep. Nothing that will prevent me from using my hand. Luckily it's my left hand, not my right.

"There," she says once the wound is wrapped. "What happened anyway?"

"Nothing, I just squeezed the glass too hard. An accident." My tone is dismissive but she looks unconvinced.

"You should get it checked out, it might need stitches." She turns away to sweep up the glass, missing my smile. I love how she wants to take care of me. It feels so damned good.

"I'll be fine, baby." I step back and quickly pull the rest of my clothes back on. Sasha will be waiting for me if I don't get a move on.

"I have to go, there's a problem at work."

"OK, that's fine," she says, pushing her fingers through her messy hair. "I have stuff to do anyway." The distance I've sensed between us for the last few days is back. She's distracted, messing with the edge of her robe, chewing her lip as she looks away.

I reach out and grasp her chin. "Hey, I'll call you later, OK?"

"Sure," she says, offering me a weak smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

The way she avoids looking at me makes me uneasy but I don't have time to find out what the problem is, so I put my sense of disquiet on the back burner for now.

Whatever is going on with Natalya can wait. She's safe here in her apartment, and once she leaves, my guys will be on her tail.

They know that if they see anything amiss, to call me immediately. And if someone attacks her, they"ll step in.