Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Maksim

Ilean back in my worn leather chair, steepling my fingers and narrowing my eyes. The dim office is comfortable but feels cramped with my second in command and our IT guy in here with me. Lev lounges in a chair on the other side of the room, one leg crossed over the other, while Alyosha hunches over a laptop, typing furiously.

“Peace with those Irish bastards is hanging by a thread,” I say as I sift through the stack of coded messages from Alyosha’s contacts across the city. “One wrong move, and we’ll be drowning in blood again.”

“Speaking of the Irish.” Lev exhales, his face pinched with the weight of his responsibilities, “there was a fight at one of our bars last night. A couple of their boys got shitfaced and started throwing punches.”

“Did they now?” The tension in my gut coils like a snake, ready to strike. Something feels off. It’s not just drunken stupidity, that much I’m sure of. Things with the Irish lately have been…off.

“Could be nothing. Maybe just a coincidence,” Lev continues. “Just a bunch of idiots blowing off steam.”

“Maybe.” I can’t shake the feeling that this is a sign, though. Like there’s another shoe just waiting to drop. My father always says to trust my instincts, and they haven’t failed me yet. “Just keep an eye on them. Make sure they know who they’re fucking with.”

“Of course.” Lev’s grin is sharp as a knife, promising pain for anyone foolish enough to cross us.

“Any word from the Irish higher-ups?” I ask, already suspecting the answer.

“Nothing yet,” Alyosha chimes in without looking up from his screen. “But I’ll let you know if I catch anything on their communications.”

“Good.” I nod slowly, trying to force my tension away with a couple of deep, steady breaths. But it clings to me like a second skin, refusing to let go.

My mind drifts back to the peace agreement brokered between our families—the Bratva and the Irish. This same office, heavy with the scent of cigars and whiskey. My father and Colin Kelly, heads of their respective mafias, sitting across from each other, hashing out terms that would ensure we could all survive, maybe even thrive.

“Peace, Maksim,” my father had said, clapping me on the shoulder. “It’s a fragile thing, but we need it.”

And so we agreed to share territory, to keep our businesses separate but respect each other’s claims. It’s been a delicate balance, like walking a tightrope, and one slip could plunge us all into chaos.

Doesn’t help that Brennan, Colin’s hotheaded son, is waiting in the wings for his own time to shine. I remember him glaring at me from across the room, his resentment hanging in the air even though he didn’t say a word. He never hid his disapproval of the alliance, and I wonder if he’s testing the limits of our word now.

“Fuck,” I mutter, shoving the papers aside.

“Relax, boss,” Lev says, watching me with an appraising gaze. “We’ve got this.”

I nod, but deep down, I know better than to ignore my instincts. Trouble is brewing, and with my father in Russia for an undisclosed amount of time, it’s up to me to sniff it out before it bites us in the ass.

“Let’s lay low for now,” I agree. “But we need to be smart. They’ve been testing us for weeks now, entering our territory, making trouble for our people. I don’t trust it. I need eyes everywhere. We need to coordinate surveillance on the Irish-owned bars and clubs. Alyosha, you monitor their communications. If Brennan or anyone else is planning something, I want to catch wind of it immediately.”

Our trusted IT guy nods, still typing away. “I’m on it.”

“Lev, get our best men on those bars. We need to know who comes and goes, especially any higher-ups. And don’t overlook the dancers, those girls can cause just as much trouble if they’re told to.”

“Understood.”

“And for fuck’s sake, keep an eye on Brennan Kelly,” I add, gritting my teeth. “If he so much as sneezes in the wrong direction, I want to know about it.”

Lev nods again. “Roger that, boss.”

“We keep the peace for now, but I want to prepare for the worst. If conflict is on the horizon, we need to be ready to retaliate with overwhelming force. I want our guys stocked up on weapons and ammo, and make sure everyone’s trained and prepared for the fight of their lives.” Both men nod as I drum my fingers on the desk. “Okay, now, what else?”

“Looks like we’ve got another fuckin’ scammer on our hands,” Alyosha announces. “This one’s claiming to have cancer, but it’s all bullshit. Just like the others. They’re just taking people’s money without giving them anything to show for it.”

I clench my fists, feeling annoyance bubble within me. These goddamn scammers are everywhere, like cockroaches. I’m all for being on the opposite side of the law, obviously, but guns, drugs, prostitutes… These may all be things my people supply, but it’s different. If we weren’t here, people would still find somewhere to get what they’re looking for, no matter what. But these stupid fucking scammers affect good people who wouldn’t otherwise get mixed up in dumb shit, people who don’t deserve it. They’re cowardly, pathetic parasites.

“What do you know?”

“Looks like they’ve been working online mostly, setting up fake donation pages, using sob stories to reel people in,” he explains, his hands nervously fidgeting with his laptop as he finally looks up to make eye contact.

I swear he’d be happier if he could plug in directly to that fucking machine, but I’m not complaining. He might not be able to hold a conversation without looking shady as fuck, but he can work miracles with electronics.

“Tell me again why we care about this shit?” Lev says, leaning back in his seat with an annoyed sigh.

“Because I said so,” I growl.

“But what’s it got to do with us?” Lev continues. “Since when do we care about the general fucking populace, anyway?”

“This is our turf,” I say with a glare at Lev, “and the people on it, our responsibility. I won’t have someone coming in and taking advantage of our area.”

“The scams seem unrelated on the surface,” Alyosha says with a slow look my way, “and as Maksim has pointed out while going through some of the information with me earlier, they have similarities. Sort of like a signature. A calling card. Makes me think there’s some sort of mastermind behind the whole thing, pulling the strings while everyone else does his dirty work. And the timing of it, with what’s going on with the Irish… Doesn’t feel right.”

“Keep digging.” I say with a warning look at Lev, who sighs again and throws his hands up in surrender. “Better safe than sorry. If there is a mastermind, I want to know who it is—and the sooner, the better.”

“Understood, boss. I’ll keep you updated.”

My own interest in the matter isn’t just about the scams themselves, it’s personal. The memory of my best friend Sasha flashes before my eyes—the hospital bed, the machines, the pain etched across his face as he fought ARPKD until his last breath. People like these scammers are making a mockery of his suffering, exploiting the goodwill of others for their own twisted gain, and it just personally pisses me off. If it’s not going to hurt the Bratva to deal with the fuckers, then I don’t see an issue in doing a public fucking service to alleviate my own mood about it. Fuck them.

“Can’t stand these fucking parasites,” I mutter as the IT guy leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

I lean back in my chair, gritting my teeth at the thoughts of Sasha now plaguing me, and I force my mind away. Without meaning to, my thoughts wander towards something that’s been occupying me more than I’d like to admit. A memory of the fundraiser, of a woman with a smile that could light up the darkest corners of my world.

Abby.

Alyosha’s footsteps fade down the hallway, and Lev quirks a brow. “You’ve been on edge lately.”

“Let’s just say I’ve had a lot on my mind,” I reply, allowing myself to relax a bit in the presence of my trusted friend. “The Irish, the scammers…all these fucking pests.”

“And the woman you met at the fundraiser?” he asks with a knowing smirk. “Abby Foxworthy, wasn’t it?”

“You’re not here to gossip about my love life,” I snap, though my annoyance is half-hearted at best. He’s right, though. She’s been on my mind nonstop lately. It’s no surprise he’s noticed. The only real shock is that he hasn’t said anything before now.

“Come on, Maks. We’ve known each other for years. We’re practically brothers. You can talk to me.”

I sigh, rubbing my temples as I consider whether or not to divulge my true feelings. “She was different, Lev. Special. Abby has this way about her—she’s good, genuine, gentle. She made me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time.”

“Sounds like she made quite an impression.” He leans back in his chair. “So why aren’t you pursuing her? What’s holding you back?”

“Because she’s…good. She’s a good girl, Lev, I can tell. She deserves better than this world. How can I drag someone like that into all this shit, all this fighting and killing? Doesn’t matter how much I might want her.”

“What if she’s the piece of sanity you need in the middle of all the chaos? Your light at the end of the tunnel?”

“Or maybe I’d end up snuffing out that light, and then where would we be? Besides, I have more pressing matters to focus on right now, don’t you think?”

“Sure, but there’s always going to be something going on. Some bullshit distraction keeping you from being happy. Don’t write off something good just because the timing isn’t convenient. Sometimes we need something or someone to keep us grounded, remind us what we’re fighting for.”

I snort and run a hand through my hair. “Fuck me, when did you become such a god damned poet?”

He just smirks back at me. “I’m a man of many talents.”

My thoughts drifting back to Abby as Lev takes his leave, and the undeniable pull I feel toward her. I’ve given a lot of money to her foundation over the years because I believe in the work she’s doing with her sister. A hell of a lot of money. And I’ve given it anonymously, because I’m not in the habit of giving to charity for clout or moral superiority.

Plus, ever since she began to step into the spotlight and caught my attention, I’ve had it on my mind to…get to know her. She’s a beautiful thing, and most definitely my type. If I was ever to get my hands on her, I knew I’d want it to be because she purely and solely wanted me, and not because of what I might have done for her charity. I don’t want her to ever feel like she owes me anything. I don’t want that money to cloud her judgment or to become a wedge between us.

But now that I’ve actually had a chance to talk to her, to sleep with her?

Fuck, I’d give ten times as much to be able to think clearly right now. I want her more than anything, and she’s the one thing I can’t have. So maybe I’m just fucked.

Or maybe I should take a hint from Lev and reevaluate my priorities.