Bratva Boss’ Baby by Winter Sloane

Chapter Five

Viktor gazed at his sleeping angel on the bed. Ava looked like a goddess, her curls all messed up. With her body all tangled up in the sheets, he caught tempting glimpses of her creamy skin.

The bruises he left on her hips and body were prominent under the daylight. Viktor touched the scratches she left on him. They’d marked each other good last night. He smiled. Ava reminded him more of a wildcat. There was certainly nothing angelic about her last night.

Wait. He scowled. What the hell was he smiling about? Calling a woman he just met his angel? If his brother were here, Pavel would’ve had laughed at him. Ava was a good fuck. Nothing more.

Viktor took a shower. After that, he dressed quickly, wanting to be gone before she woke up. He paused, then checked his shoulder holster. Huh. His gun was in an odd position. Maybe he was just imagining things. He purposely undressed himself last night so Ava wouldn’t notice his weapon. He looked at the bed again.

Ava turned on her side, but her soft snores assured Viktor she remained asleep.

He buttoned up his shirt with leisure, ignoring the vibrating phone in his pocket. Viktor put on his suit jacket, then checked his phone. Three missed calls from his brother. Viktor sighed.

He’d call Pavel once he exited the room. Last night, Ava had been a wonderful distraction, but it was time Viktor returned to reality. An innocent girl like Ava wouldn’t survive a single day in his world.

Woman, he reminded himself. Ava had certainly shown him she was a force to be reckoned with last night. Viktor wasn’t sure why he offered her a job either. Well, that wasn’t right.

Viktor told Pavel they needed a clueless outsider to sort their finances. Viktor would do a background check on Ava, but he bet he wouldn’t find a single speck of dirt on her. Not even a parking ticket.

Still, hiring someone he’d just fucked would make matters complicated. Then again, Ava had proudly told him she was a professional. Maybe this could work. Viktor pulled out a business card from his wallet. He scribbled a note under his name and left it on the bedside table. That done, he left the hotel room. He already paid for everything.

Viktor walked to the parking lot, whistling under his breath. He was in a good mood. After fishing out his phone again, he returned Pavel’s call.

“Where the hell are you?” Pavel demanded. “I was worried about you.”

“Just woke up. As you can see, I’m alive and kicking.”

“Well, while you were gone, Motya brought his cousin back to headquarters. Once Andrei busted out his collection of knives and started working on him, Peck sang like a bird. You’d be interested to hear what he said.”

“I’ll be there in less than half an hour.”

Viktor ended the call, sensing phantom eyes watching him again. Narrowing his eyes, he looked around the parking lot. It was half full. Viktor spotted a shadowy figure moving away from him.

He knew it. Someone had definitely been watching him. Who? Why? Well, the first was easy enough to answer. The Kotva Family had plenty of enemies who wanted him dead.

Viktor ran after his stalker. He kept his hand on the butt of his gun so he could easily draw it when needed. He quickened his footsteps, breaking into a run as his stalker crossed the road and ran toward the entrance of an alleyway.

His heart thumped. Adrenaline raced through his system. Viktor followed swiftly, only to find himself in a maze of alleyways. A few feet from him, his stalker turned left. Viktor tailed him, aware he should just drive back home.

He shouldn’t be hunting alone. Viktor had the Family to think about. The men and women working under him relied on their boss for their daily operations. Viktor shouldn’t be playing chase, and yet he persisted.

“Stop! You’re only making this difficult to yourself,” he yelled at his stalker.

He could see the figure up ahead of him now. A punk dressed in a gray hoodie. He was a fast runner. The guy hit a dead end. Victory was Viktor’s, or so he thought.

A second man stepped into the light. Viktor closed his hand on his gun and whipped it out. He fired. The man ducked, but he didn’t avoid Viktor’s second and third bullet.

He turned to his stalker, who held a gun in his hands. His opponent’s hand shook and Viktor could see a pale and frightened face underneath the hoodie.

Bloodshot eyes met his. He recognized the telltale black ink decorating the side of the punk’s neck. A junkie working for the Mogilevich Family. Did those bastards send this punk to watch his movements?

Viktor curled his lips as the young man fired. He swerved to the left. The bullet grazed his left arm, tearing past two layers of fabric and drawing a line of blood. Hissing, Viktor aimed his gun at the stalker’s leg.

The punk went down without a fight. No surprise there. He wasn’t a trained soldier, just one of the Mogilevich Family’s many pawns. Viktor didn’t want to kill him right away, just in case he had some valuable information for him. Viktor walked up to him calmly, gun pointed at his head.

“You’re coming with me,” he said.

“No.” The guy fumbled for his gun.

With shaking hands, he rested the barrel against the side of his head. Viktor cursed, running toward him, but he was too late. The junkie pulled the trigger. Dull muddy brown eyes stared up at Viktor. Letting out a frustrated growl, Viktor was tempted to kick the corpse, then thought better of it.

Someone probably heard the gunshots. Cops would swarm this place soon. Viktor calmly put his gun away. From the back pocket of his trousers, he took out the disposable gloves he always carried with him. Pavel laughed at him for being so paranoid, but it never hurt to be prepared. Viktor didn’t want his prints anywhere at the crime scene.

He put them on before fishing through the junkie’s pockets. The guy smelled bad, like he hadn’t taken a shower in days.

He pocketed a burner phone, then turned to the second body. Another burner phone. Viktor probably wouldn’t get the answers he needed, but he’d get a specialist to hack the phones.

Viktor returned to his car. He drove past a police car as he headed back to headquarters. Thirty minutes later, he parked his car across the old canning factor the Kotov Bratva now used as a base of operations.

This entire street used to be a row of factories and warehouses. The city abandoned it because of poisonous factory fumes. Viktor’s grandfather bought the entire strip for a dirt-cheap price. Since then, they’d erected several strip clubs and casinos along the road. Viktor got out of his car and nodded toward the two men guarding the entrance to the Diamond Gentleman’s Club.

“Morning, boss,” one greeted him.

He knew this one. Olaf was a bruiser who worked for his father and swore his alliance to Viktor once again after his father died.

“Olaf, how are the missus and kids doing?” he asked.

“All right. Peter’s ten now. Time flies really fast.”

He patted Olaf’s shoulder and headed inside. The dancers didn’t come in until nighttime, but the bar was open. About a dozen of his men occupied the tables, smoking, drinking, and talking.

A few called out to Viktor as he passed. He acknowledged each one, then climbed the stairs to the second floor. Viktor headed right to his office. Pavel was already waiting for him, along with Motya.

“You sure took your time,” Pavel said with a scoff. His brother looked him up and down, then smirked. “You’re wearing the same clothes as last night. Must be some really good pussy.”

Not in the mood to play around, he fisted Pavel’s shirt and glared at him. “I’m not in the fucking mood,” Viktor said.

Pavel shoved him away, then frowned, staring at the sleeve of his shirt. Viktor had almost forgotten the wound.

“You’re shot, boss,” Motya said, sounding concerned.

“It’s just a scratch.”

“From who?” Pavel asked.

“A punk hired by the Mogilevich Family. He and his partner didn’t cause me much trouble.”

“Those fuckers are still hiring junkies to do their dirty work for them?” Motya asked, scratching his head.

“Why not? Junkies are unreliable, but they’re expendable. They’re also cheap. Just dangle some product in front of them and they’ll wag their tails for you,” Pavel said. His brother looked at him.

Viktor shook his head. The Mogilevich Family’s numbers had swelled since they enlisted a small army of junkies. Those pricks would resort to any dishonorable and deplorable act as they gobbled up more territories.

The only area they wouldn’t touch was the Kotov Bratva’s turf. They learned early what Viktor did to his enemies. Pavel had suggested plenty of times they employ the same tactic as the Mogileviches.

“It would be chaos if we took in junkies,” he said in a firm voice. “Enough about me. What is it you want to tell me?”

He looked at Motya expectantly. Motya scratched his head, a nervous gesture.

“Yeah, you will not like this one bit, Viktor. But it turns out Neil didn’t work alone.”

Viktor clenched his jaw. “And?”

“He sided with the Mogilevich Family,” Pavel answered.

Viktor smashed his fist against his desk. Rage burned inside him. The fire swelled, turned into an all-consuming inferno.

“Did Neil say anything else?” he asked.

“No. Andrei says he’s managed to wrangle every dirty secret from him, including who he’s been sleeping with,” Pavel said with a chuckle.

He looked at Motya. Viktor knew he couldn’t blame Motya. He and Pavel had hired Peck, after all. Still, he wanted to hurt Motya as much as he wanted to make Peck suffer all over again. This time, Viktor would be in charge of torturing him. He dismissed the thought. Viktor didn’t have time for extra-curricular activities.

“I don’t have further use for Peck.”

Viktor snapped his fingers and exited his office. His brother and Motya didn’t question him. They followed Viktor down the flight of stairs and down to the basement where they sometimes kept their prisoners.

Andrei was still working on Neil Peck. They occupied the first cell in the prison. Motya winced as Peck let out another shrill scream that seemed to go on forever.

“Give me your hand,” Viktor said.

Motya looked at him with uncertain eyes, but he did as Viktor asked. Motya was a good soldier. He just had one flaw. He trusted too easily. Motya winced, but Viktor only set his gun in the palm of Motya’s hand.

“You know what to do,” he said.

What he was asking of Motya was difficult, but Motya needed to prove his loyalty to Viktor and the Kotov Family once more. Motya gripped the handle of the gun. Without another word, Motya entered Peck’s cell.

“Motya, please! I can’t take more of this. Save me! I know I made a mistake, but I can fix everything.” Peck sobbed.

Shock reflected on the traitor’s features as Motya raised the gun toward his face. Andrei stepped aside. Motya fired. He didn’t look away as he did the unsavory task. Viktor approved.

Motya exited the cell and returned Viktor’s gun to him. “This will never happen again, boss.”

Viktor nodded, satisfied by today’s turn of events. “Make sure it doesn’t. Go back to your duties.”

Motya left the basement. Andrei started packing up his tools.

“We still need a new accountant,” Pavel reminded him unhelpfully.

“Let me handle that. I already have someone in mind.”

“You do?” Pavel asked him with a puzzled look.

“Her name is Ava. She’ll be working directly under Katya and me, so we can monitor her.”

Pavel rubbed at his jaw. “Is this the same woman you fucked last night?”

“That’s right.”

“Are you sure that’s a wise idea? I thought you said we’re hiring an—”

“She’s an outsider. Ava doesn’t know what I do and who I really am. I’ll keep it that way.”

Pavel wore a smug look on his face. “Now I want to find if she’s really that good of a fuck. What is she, a champion cock-sucker?”

Viktor didn’t know what happened next. One moment, they were chatting, the next? Viktor shoved Pavel against the closest wall. He wrapped his hands around Pavel’s neck.

His brother gasped as Viktor squeezed. Pavel kicked and punched him. Viktor didn’t let go. Pavel wasn’t exactly a small man. He was built like a fighter, but Viktor seemed to possess superhuman strength in those few moments. His possessiveness and anger empowered him. Viktor saw red.

“She’s mine and mine alone. Anyone who touches her, who so much as lay a finger on her, dies,” he said. “Nod if you understand.”

Pavel began to turn purple, but he managed a nod. Viktor released him. Pavel hacked and coughed.

“Fuck you, Viktor.”

“As long as we understand each other,” Viktor said, leaving his brother down the basement. He had more important matters to attend to.