Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

A leksander

"I swear to God, you're going to get me disbarred," I snapped as I took long strides beside Vadim. Even though he was my best friend and a man who paid me well for my counseling, I was also constantly irritated by his growing need to have me more involved with his unscrupulous activities.

Not that I hadn't crossed a few lines over my lifetime. I wasn't a good guy. I was a ruthless savage who feasted on the fears of others. But I'd never taken murder lightly. As an attorney, I'd taken an oath to follow the letter of the law.

However, as the chosen Councilor for the most powerful man in the city, I'd pledged my allegiance.

"Give me a break," Vadim Chernoff said as he flanked my side. It was dark, more so on the street we were on. The area was well known for recent renovations, most commercial businesses trying to get a new lease on life. "You're half owner of the most prestigious law firm in New York if not the East Coast. Plus, I own half the police department. You've never had an issue." The Pakhan had always been sure of himself, the man a true powerhouse inside the Big Apple.

Then again, I wielded a hell of a lot of weight myself.

"Yeah, well, it's the other half I'm worried about." My grumble didn't stop me from removing my weapon, ensuring I had a full magazine of ammunition.

"Stop worrying. I need someone I can trust and Sergei is on vacation, much needed, I might add. And Maxim is visiting his mother in the hospital. I'm a cruel bastard but I'm not entirely heartless."

He was good to his men, his two Capos well paid for protecting their Pakhan.

Three additional soldiers trailed along behind us, but for tonight, we were the enforcers. "Fine. Let's just get this over with," I told him.

"Hot date?"

"Yeah, a heavy deposition to deal with."

He laughed, his deep tone reverberating in the repulsive alley. "You freaking work too much. You should learn to enjoy the spoils of all your diligent work. Look at me. I enjoy my time off, relishing my spoils of war after working a long, savage day."

His Russian accent was heavier tonight, which usually occurred when he was angry. And tonight, he was enraged. We'd be lucky if we didn't start a blood war, which I'd need to help clean up, but I did understand his rage.

No one dared cross the Chernoff Empire and lived.

"Uh-huh. That woman of yours has you wrapped around her little finger."

"You should try it. Why not buy a wife?" Vadim was laughing as we strode down the street.

I coughed on purpose. "Confirmed bachelor."

"You're going to grow old alone, my friend."

"Bastard. Where the hell are we going anyway?" I asked, scanning the street. We had our share of enemies, as few organizations appreciated the Bratva.

"The place belongs to Luciano Bernardi."

"The Cosa Nostra Don?" The Cosa Nostra had been a long-standing enemy, separate from Stefano Marino's organization, but until recently, our two organizations had followed an unwritten guideline. Don't fuck with the other's turf. Everything had changed with a recent attack on one of our facilities.

And Vadim was out for revenge.

"Yeah, a new restaurant he's bringing to the city. Italian of course. The Italian mobsters have zero creativity."

I noticed a building in the foreground, sighing as I had a bad feeling about what we were about to head into. A restaurant was a good way to launder money after all the generations of bad guys holding the city hostage. While most of our businesses were legitimate, we still needed the old ways to continue procuring our wealth.

"Piece of advice, my friend," I told him. "You're going to incite a war."

"So fucking be it. I'm not going to allow the pompous asshole to damage our reputation."

"What are we doing here tonight?"

"Just leaving a message."

As we headed to the door of the building, I marveled at the fact that when Vadim was involved, he refused to use the back door. He'd always loved making an entrance. Hell, so did I. We were cautious, Vadim no longer needing to give his soldiers any instructions.

The door wasn't locked and as we headed inside, I was struck by the sound of eighties music. The employees were working late, it would seem. The area was completely under construction, most of the square footage still gutted and down to bare brick walls. But there'd been a lot of activity: sawhorses, plywood, and bare metal studs everywhere. What had irked me was that after a long-standing relationship, somehow, Don Bernardi had gotten a solid ‘in' with the labor union. They had allowed him to avoid the hoops usually necessary for building plans to be approved.

What disturbed the hell out of me was that there were no workers to be seen, but they were here, tools and toolbelts placed in strategic locations.

Vadim motioned to the soldiers to fan out, searching for the workers. We weren't in the habit of killing innocent men, and certainly not women, but I'd learned a few things over the last several months about the Italian Don. The men on his payroll, no matter their job description, were all highly skilled.

This wasn't the Wild West of the past crime syndicates, modern technology making everything more efficient, but some of the old ways still applied. The area was huge, just beginning to take shape. I was a marksman myself, realizing that trained soldiers knew how to hide in less obvious spaces. Between the plastic sheets hanging from rafters to help control dust and the shadows given the only light was from power lamps used by the workers, there were plenty of places to hide.

Suddenly, we heard voices, several men located in another room. I was closest, heading in that direction, easily able to see inside. It was dinner hour, which explained why no one was visible. A crack from behind, one of our men stepping on something accidentally, made the two men feasting on sandwiches toss their food, instantly moving in the direction of the door.

I hated using the term ‘all hell breaking loose,' but it would seem the men were prepared for a possible attack, which would make sense. Retaliation for a foolish act was just part of the business. Almost immediately, shots were fired. It would seem every construction worker had a weapon of some kind.

At least one of our soldiers dropped and rolled, catching two enemies in the chest. As they were flung across the room, the others advanced. I backhanded one with my weapon, narrowly avoiding being shot. As I jumped back, the pinging sounds as bullets hit the metal studs were a reminder I wasn't a spring chicken any longer.

And shit. I hadn't changed out of one of my favorite suits.

I hated dry cleaning. Loathed heading to the small store, even if they'd been very good to me over the years. Their ability to remove blood was extraordinary.

More shots were fired, men grunting like barbarians. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Vadim had his hands full with two men, forced to issue brutal punches. Sadly, it would appear my illustrious leader had potentially underestimated the enemy soldiers' capabilities, two men also coming at me at the same time.

The hard blow across my cheek pissed me off. I was thrown backward, barely catching my balance. Fortunately, my reflexes were still spot on and I whirled around, not hesitating to fire off several shots. But the second bastard was on me in a heartbeat, the huge mass of a brute easily tossing me like some ragdoll a few feet away. As I crashed into a makeshift table, my weapon flew from my hand.

What the hell?

Before I had a chance to react, the dude was on me, screaming like some primal beast. He threw his body against mine, pinning me down on the surface of the thick plywood. I was a strong man, capable of bench-pressing hundreds of pounds. Given my size, few men had ever beaten me in a fight.

But this guy was hyped up on adrenaline or drugs, stronger than an ox. The struggle was real, the soldier shifting the barrel of his gun slowly toward my face. Shit. My muscles were already straining, my strength challenged.

I threw one arm back, looking for anything to beat him off with. My fingers touched something metal and somehow, I managed to glance backward.

Fuck, yes.

The nail gun was just out of my reach, but I wasn't giving up the fight. Besides, the gleam in the asshole's eyes pissed me off. I stretched as I used every ounce of strength left to keep him from shooting me in the face. I managed to shove the weapon to the right just as he fired off a single shot. The damn thing missed me by a hair's breadth but the jerk in his arm after firing allowed me to finally get my hands on the creative weapon of my own.

The second he managed to shove his gun back toward my chest, I used nearly every ounce of my strength, issuing a primal bellow of my own as I lifted the heavy piece of construction machinery. It had been a long time since I'd worked construction, but nothing had been lost. He did his best to fight me, but I wrapped my fingers around the base, my finger on the trigger.

Using the nail gun was somewhat more challenging than I'd believed, but the moment the enemy jammed his gun against my ribcage, there was no room for doubt.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

The three nails driven into the man's brain were instantaneous but it took him a few seconds to react. As soon as his eyes started to roll into the back of his head, I pitched him from my body onto the floor. I'd seen many a man in his condition capable of firing off a shot or two before succumbing to their injuries.

"Jesus," I huffed, taking gasping breaths as I struggled to get off the table.

"Wow, my friend. I had no idea you were that good with construction tools."

Vadim's words were followed by an immediate laugh. Since the beginning of our friendship, we'd teased each other relentlessly, but I had to admit, I wasn't much in the mood. As I managed to ease up from the plywood, I gave him my middle finger, hating that I'd been put in such a horrific position. Once off the table, I snagged my weapon, realizing the shooting had stopped.

Dead bodies littered the warehouse space, blood seeping from gunshot wounds. "Yeah, well, there's a lot about me you don't know."

Vadim laughed. "What a damn shitstorm."

I eyed him carefully. I had no doubt the next round of retaliation was going to be much worse. "You like playing with fire."

"Hell, yeah. You only live once."

I'd always prided myself in following my gut. This time, a series of sensations prickled every nerve ending. I reacted without thinking as one of the gunned down soldiers struggled to his feet, leveling his gun in Vadim's direction.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

The entire moment was in slow motion but as the fucker finally went down, I continued to hold the weapon in both hands.

Vadim also reacted slowly, his face going slack as he turned around. I could tell the instant he realized he'd almost lost his life. "Well, fuck. I guess I owe you twice for saving my life."

"You mean three times," I hissed, kicking a couple of the bodies to ensure they were dead.

He snorted and shook his head. "Your count is off."

"No, yours is. Remember that delivery driver from about ten years ago? You didn't check him and he came this close to nailing your sorry ass?"

It took a few seconds, but the event dawned on him. "Okay, fine. Three times." He walked closer, clapping me on the back. "I appreciate it."

"Yeah? I'll remind you of my heroic deed when you least expect it."

The soldiers were already checking the warehouse to ensure there wasn't anyone else hiding. Exhaling, I raked my hand through my hair. "I'm getting too old for this shit."

"You're fucking forty-two, for God's sake. I'm telling you. The best way to remain youthful is having a beautiful woman by your side every day and every night."

I'd never seen Vadim so happy, his eyes constantly lit up when he talked about his lovely bride. "Not going to happen. The playboy life is perfect for me."

"You'll learn. Mark my words."

"Boss. You should take a look at this."

We looked at each other then toward our soldier, who was holding up a sheet of plastic hanging from the doorway. As we followed the man, the other two employees were actively prying open crates.

As we headed closer, I had a bad feeling regarding what we'd find. Every crate was filled with clear plastic-wrapped bundles.

Vadim was already grinning, removing his switchblade and driving the blade into one of them. The slit was just big enough for him to slide a finger in, which he did, sniffing then tasting the substance. "Heroin. From what I can tell, top quality."

I could see a different level of gleam in the man's eyes. "Well, shit."

"We have leverage," he said as he shoved his pocketknife back into his trousers.

"We're not in the drug business."

"No, but that doesn't mean we can't hold this over Bernardi's head. With the number of crates, the shit is worth millions."

It was a risky game indeed, this level of product not something any businessman would take lightly. Which meant his rage would either increase or he'd realize bringing drugs into our city wasn't in his best interest.

Either way, the war was just beginning.