Bratva Boss’ Baby by Winter Sloane

Chapter Two

Viktor Kotov nursed a headache as his older brother Pavel rattled off more numbers. He lifted his glass to his lips, barely tasting the vodka. Viktor couldn’t think past the rage.

Anger bubbled inside him the more Pavel spoke. He didn’t need further details. Viktor only required to know the gist of what his brother was telling him. A low-life flunky had the guts to betray Viktor and the Kotov Bratva. Neil Peck was smart or stupid to rob them.

“What’s the damage?” Viktor finally asked.

“Half a million. That’s a rough estimate.” Pavel paused, watching him.

Viktor finished his vodka. He could hear the music coming from the club. They must have a full house tonight because he could hear the catcalls and whistles from the crowd. Viktor opened the security feed of the main dance floor on his computer. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He pushed the empty bottle away. Alcohol only worsened the harsh pounding in his skull.

“What’s your plan, boss?”

He glared at his brother. Pavel didn’t make it a secret that he always resented their father for choosing Viktor as the successor of the Kotov Family. Pavel and Viktor had frequently clashed over the years. For this particular case, they were in complete agreement. They’d hunt down Neil and teach him a valuable lesson he’d never forget.

“No one steals from us and gets away with it,” he said.

“You hired him,” his brother pointed out unhelpfully. “If Father was still alive or if I was the boss, I’d never let something like this happen.”

Viktor slammed his inked fists onto the mahogany desk. He wanted, no needed to break something. Anything. He breathed in and out. Smashing his brother’s smug face wasn’t the answer.

“You want to sit in this chair, Pavel?” he asked in a deceptively calm tone.

Pavel held out his hands in mock defeat.

“Peck was Motya’s cousin from his mother’s side. Motya vouched for him. We didn’t do any further background checks on him. That was our mistake,” he said.

Viktor had already spoken to Motya. The enforcer might have several faults, but Motya was no traitor. Motya’s family had served theirs for two generations. Motya had also been beside himself when he realized what his cousin had done.

“Motya’s volunteered to personally hunt Neil Peck down,” he said. “I told him to bring the fucker alive if possible.”

“I’d like to work on him,” Pavel said, cracking his knuckles.

A look of anticipation appeared on Pavel’s face. That was the problem with his brother. Pavel thought violence was the answer to everything. His brother was incapable of thinking two, three steps ahead. And Pavel wondered why their father made Viktor the Pakhan, the boss.

“We still need a new accountant,” his brother said.

“I’ve been thinking about that. We’ll hire an outsider.” Viktor had decided it was for the best.

Pavel narrowed his eyes. “Is that a good idea? What if the person we hire starts asking questions he or she shouldn’t be asking? At least Peck knew how to keep his mouth shut.”

“Peck stole half a million from us,” he reminded his brother. “We need a professional, someone who doesn’t belong to the Bratva. This individual doesn’t need to know about our other illegal businesses. There’s something else to consider.”

“What’s that?” Pavel asked.

His brother walked around his desk. Pavel looked at the security feed, his gaze trained on the dancers on the poles, not the crowd. Pavel always had a short attention span.

Viktor clenched his jaw. It had been Pavel’s job to watch Peck. Pavel didn’t even want to admit he screwed up. His brother had been distracted by other vices—no surprise there. Viktor picked up his gun from the drawer under his desk. He fired at the floor. Pavel cursed, leaping to his feet.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Pavel demanded. “What if you hit my leg?”

“You’re not paying attention. This conversation isn’t over,” he said.

Pavel scowled, sat back down, and stared at him. “I’m listening.”

“I want you to find out if Peck did this alone or if he’s working with someone else,” he said. “I can’t have any loose threads.”

“What will you be doing?”

“Looking for Peck’s replacement.”

It wouldn’t be easy, Viktor knew. Trust was a luxury in his world. Long after Pavel had left, Viktor lingered in his office. He felt restless, full of contained energy.

Viktor didn’t want to head out to the floor or visit any of his other clubs. He grabbed his coat and left his office. What Viktor needed was a drink. To go somewhere where no one recognized him.

“Going somewhere, boss?” one of his men asked by the front door of the club.

Viktor waved him away. “I need some time alone. As you were.”

It was raining outside the club. Viktor cursed and ran across the street to get to his black Mercedes. By the time he got behind the wheel, the rain had drenched him from head to toe.

His night wasn’t getting any better. Viktor paused as he slid the key into the ignition. He felt like someone was watching him. Viktor frowned, touching the gun in his shoulder holster. He went nowhere without his gun and knives. One never knew if he’d need them.

Rain pelted the windows. He couldn’t make out his surroundings clearly. Viktor thought he spotted a figure fleeing inside the alleyway. Viktor stopped touching his gun and drummed his fingers on his wheel instead.

He could give chase or order one of his men to go after the stranger. Then again, the figure might only be a figment of his imagination.

As the Kotov Bratva gained more territory in the city, Viktor was becoming paranoid one of the crime families would send an assassin after him. Then again, only a fool would enter his territory and spy on him.

Viktor made a mental note to tighten the security in the area. He checked his phone and looked for a nearby bar where he could get drunk. A place where no one would recognize him or bother him.

It was a reckless move, Viktor knew. He didn’t go anywhere without guards. If he died, Pavel would run the Bratva to the ground. All the blood, sweat, and the trail of bodies, Viktor, his father, grandfather, and ancestors left behind to climb to the top would be wasted.

“I just need one night to myself,” he muttered.

Viktor started the engine and headed for the Rum and Monkey bar.

****

Viktor’s mood remained grim as he drank his second beer of the evening. He took an empty seat by the bar. A few bold women had already asked him if he wanted to buy them a drink. One glare from him sent them running. Viktor could lose himself in a woman tonight, but none of the women at the bar interested him.

A curvy blonde and her friend took the remaining seats on the bar. Viktor studied them with interest. The blonde’s face looked pinched, as if she was trying too hard to look cheerful but was failing spectacularly.

Viktor took a sip of his beer. Maybe she’d had a shitty day, just like him. He definitely liked how her dress fit her sexy body like a second skin. Viktor didn’t miss the fact her dress matched the color of her eyes. Sky blue.

He couldn’t keep his gaze off her face. Her plump lips. He wondered what she’d taste like as he speared his fingers through her blonde curls. How would she react if he cornered her against the wall and trapped her? Would she struggle like a prey animal or would she fight him off, only to realize she preferred to submit?

God. It had been ages since a woman intrigued him. Viktor met her gaze. She couldn’t hold it. She ducked her head and pretended to be interested in whatever her friend was telling her. Viktor was so used to women throwing themselves at him. He didn’t even need to lift a single finger.

This woman seemed shy—which only fueled his hunger for the hunt. He bet all that shyness was just a mask. Underneath, who knew? She might be a wildcat in bed. Someone who hungered for a man like him to take control and bend her to his whims.

By the time he left her in the morning, she’d be craving him. Too bad he didn’t do commitments. Women were distractions men like Viktor couldn’t afford. She’d make for a wonderful memory though.

A man in his late thirties stopped in front of the blonde’s friend and flashed her a smile. That annoyed Viktor. No one would get between him and his prize. Viktor stood from his seat and made his way to his potential conquest.