Chapter Five

Vladmir

“Everyone out. Now!” Maxim seethed while the Diamondbacks got up and left. Kansas was right. This had nothing to do with his club and everything to do with Maxim Fedorov.

However, when Reaper just smiled at him, Maxim sneered. “That meant you too.”

Reaper shrugged. “Don’t think so. If it concerns my wife, then I’m staying.”

“Reaper,” I cautioned, rubbing my forehead, trying to advise the stubborn asshole. “Now is not a good time to push Maxim.”

“Don’t give a fuck.” Reaper glared, pointing at Maxim. “You think I’m afraid of the Bloodletter? This fucker owes me big time for his major fuck up concerning my wife. Which, by the way, took me fucking weeks to fix. I don’t care whose hole his dad dipped his stick into. All I care about is protecting my wife, your fucking daughter, asshole. I’m staying.”

Sitting back in my chair, I shook my head.

No one can say I didn’t warn him because what came next was going to either solidify their alliance or put both men on a war footing. Either way, I didn’t care. As long as my daughter was safe, Maxim and Reaper could tear each other apart. Maxim knew I didn’t like the way he handled the whole situation with Baranov and Petrovitch. Then to pile on, Maxim aligned himself with Montana, and framed Reaper, which caused my daughter a lot of pain and grief.

The fact of the matter was, Baranov and Petrovitch would still be alive, if it weren’t for Reaper and the Golden Skulls. Maxim could say what he wanted, but Reaper was, if anything, proficient and single-minded when it came to protecting those he loved.

Bar none.

“Konstantin ruled the Russian Bratva with an iron fist. I don’t need to tell you that. You saw that firsthand,” Aksana spoke up. “I may be younger than you, Mr. Fedorov, but even I knew Konstantin ruled ruthlessly and viciously. The man was a sadistic killer. To know the man was to fear him. Your father knew. That’s why he didn’t fight Konstantin when he wanted your brother Boris. Evil always finds evil. Konstantin wasn’t a good father. I don’t think the man even knew how to be anything else but the bastard he was. All I knew growing up was that my father was someone to be feared. And trust me. I feared him. He never paid me any mind, always leaving me to nannies, just as long as I was never in his way. But where he messed up was allowing me to live under his roof. You see, Mr. Fedorov, I wasn’t stupid. I knew Konstantin wasn’t my father. Call it self-preservation or just intuition, but I looked nothing like the man. In fact, I looked nothing like any of the women he brought around. My suspicions were confirmed when I overheard him talking with several business associates one night. They wanted to know how he could keep a bastard like me around. My father laughed and simply replied, ‘she’s no bastard of mine, but still a valuable bastard. One that will serve us well someday.’ ”

“Sophina Olenski.”

Aksana nodded. “After your mother gave birth to Dominika and couldn’t have any more children, Konstantin gifted him with a mistress. Sophina Olenski. Your father knew she was a spy, but he couldn’t refuse a gift from the Pakhan and live. So, he provided an apartment for Sophina and visited her once a week. The night of the Russian Blood War, everything changed. That night, every bastard child connected to the Bratva was hunted down and killed.”

Listening to Aksana, I said nothing.

I was one of those children. I would have died that night if it weren’t for Maxim and the others standing in this room. We were all marked that night. All bastard children of the Bratva.

All but Maxim.

“Sophina Olenski.” Maxim growled.

“Your father knew what Konstantin had planned. He warned Sophina and got her and her daughter out of the country and sent them to France. There she was introduced to Charles Henry Monet. A French aristocrat with no children of his own. Your father facilitated their marriage.”

“How old was the daughter when she left Russia?” Maxim asked.

“Thirteen.”

Maxim roared, slamming his hands down on the table. “She was born a year after my sister!”

“Yes.”

Reaper whistled, shaking his head. “So, my wife is one hundred percent Russian. Explains the temper.”

Maxim rounded on Reaper and shouted, “That’s what you took from all that? Remi’s temper! How about the fact that your wife is my fucking niece?”

“Yeah, I was hoping you would overlook that part.” Reaper smirked.

Maxim growled.

“Maxim,” I said, getting my boss’s attention. “You need to let Aksana finish.”

“There’s more?” Maxim shouted. “What else is there? She said plenty already.”

“I never said Ekaterina was your father’s daughter, Mr. Fedorov. All I said was Sophina had a thirteen-year-old daughter and that your father helped them escape Russia,” Aksana explained calmly. “Like I was saying, after Sophina married Charles Monet, he raised Ekaterina as his own daughter. From my understanding, the man actually loved and doted on her. Ekaterina was fourteen when her mother died in a suspicious car accident. Charles, fearing that the Bratva had found his daughter, moved them to the United States, thinking they would be safer here. Only that wasn’t the case, because it didn’t take long for your brother to find Charles and kill him when Ekaterina was nineteen, but she was already attending school in New York City, and everyone knew Ekaterina as Nina Monet.”

“Yes.”

“And I met Nina a few years later,” I muttered.

“Yes. And when Petrovitch learned Nina was in the city, he sent Sergio Pavlov to kill her.”

“Do you know anything about who Nina’s father was?” Maxim asked.

“No. I don’t even think Baranov or Petrovitch knew,” Aksana replied. “But I know why they wanted Remi. When Charles died, he left everything to Nina, which she passed down to her unborn child. Remi is worth millions. Baranov and Petrovitch wanted the money Remi was to inherit to fund their war against you, Mr. Fedorov.”

“How do I know what you said is true?” Maxim clipped.

“Because before my father forced me to marry Steele, I took something of great value to him. This.” Aksana smiled, holding up a thumb drive. “Everything my father had on every Bratva member. Every alliance. Every deal. Every death is all on this. Konstantin Baranov was a sick son of a bitch, but he was also meticulous with his records. He saved everything and I mean everything.”

“Is it just me or are files dropping out of the sky like rain? First Montana and his ghost file. Ace and the missing files from the Trick Pony, and now you?” Reaper groaned. “I swear, if Sypher comes to me and says he found something too, I’m going to lose my shit.”

He was right.

Not even a few days ago, we learned that the Soulless Sinners’ computer system had a ghost file in it that contained every bit of information from current to past board members. That same day, we also learned that Ace, Sypher’s older brother, went missing, along with the database containing every member at the Trick Pony, along with every deviant thing they did.

Now this?

“It pains me to say this, boss, but I agree with Reaper.”

“Well, don’t choke on the words.” The fucker chuckled.

Flipping him off, I added, “This is too big of a coincidence.”

“If I may,” Aksana interrupted. “You need to look at the broader picture. Three major players recently died: Baranov, Stone and the latest, Devlin Scott, if my information is correct.”

“How do you know that Devlin Scott is dead?” Maxim asked.

“Reaper just said files are missing from the Trick Pony. Devlin Scott owns that club.”

Reaper narrowed his eyes. “And how do you know that?”

“Because my father was a member,” she replied confidently. “You all just said information regarding each man’s dealings has come to light. You need to ask yourself, what do all those men have in common? Figure that out and then you will know what you’re facing.”

Aksana was right. They had to have something in common. Something all of them would want kept secret. Something that could destroy them.

Then it hit me.

It couldn’t be that simple.

However, considering the assholes, I knew it was.

Motherfucker!

“My God,” I groaned, shaking my head. “That’s it. It has to be. Baranov, Petrovitch, Stone, and I’m betting even Steele were all members of the Trick Pony. What do you want to bet Devlin Scott was blackmailing each one of them?”

“To what end?” Maxim asked.

“Who the fuck cares?” Reaper clipped. “If that motherfucker has information on my club, then I fucking want to know what it is and who he was fucking blackmailing.”

“I don’t understand why he’s insisting I come with you?” Aksana whispered, sitting next to me as Maxim’s plane took off from Lawton Airport. “If Baranov, Petrovitch, and Steele are dead, then I’m free to live my life.”

“We don’t know if Steele is really dead, plus, you are forgetting his brother Jack, who has taken over Satan’s Angels. Your life is still in danger. It’s safer for you and Katiya if you come with us to New York. That way, we can ensure your safety.”

“You mean because Baranov raised me, I might know more than I think?”

Had to give it to her.

She was not only beautiful, but smart and caught on quick.