Bratva Boss’s Secret Triplets by Bella King

Chapter 7

Rebel

Alan didn’t have names. He had an address, and that lack of information bought him a ticket to the afterlife. He would’ve ended up there anyway, but I made it a little quicker for him in return for his compliance. A bullet to the brain is easier to stomach than being buried alive.

I should be bringing more people into the world to balance out everyone I’ve killed, but I don’t have time to get women pregnant. I’m not in the market for a wife, and that’s the only woman who I would trust the heir to my mafia with. We do blood vows in this Family, and that binds people for life.

I tuck my dry cleaning under my arm as I enter a small shop by the dock. They don’t ask questions and I pay in cash. I couldn’t have a better arrangement. It’s good old-fashioned business, the American way.

I’m far from being a true American, but my passport says otherwise. It’s amazing what you can have cooked up for you if you know the right people. Others wait years for citizenship while I secured mine with a couple of calls and a blank check mailed to the right office.

I love Russia, but my business is in the USA. Maybe I’ll return when this is all over, but for now, I have a man to hunt down and destroy. That could take years, but it could also be just a matter of weeks. I’m getting close.

The address that I was given wasn’t by the dock, but I was assured that I would be able to find some of Saint Gray’s men there, working in disguise, cleaning linens and disposing of medical supplies. In reality, they’re said to be skimming medications and repurposing them for drugs that they can sell to the locals.

Pharmaceuticals are a strong and growing business, so it doesn’t surprise me that the Saint Gray mafia wants in on the market, but I am surprised where they’re getting their supplies from – a private practice that specializes in pregnancies and childbirth.

There’s so little overhead when you’re able to manufacture your own drugs; no relentless cartels to worry about, no purity concerns, no border detainment. The only real risks are getting caught with the supplies to synthesize something, and a clinic would already be stocked to the ceiling with volatile drugs. If the right person could get their hands on the inventory and ordering information, stealing medications would be easy. I’m almost angry I hadn’t thought of it sooner.

They must be getting something good from there, something you can’t get anywhere else. I applaud their creativity, but they made a mistake in hiring amateurs to run errands for them down by the dock, and it’s going to cost them.

After dropping off my clothes at the dry cleaner, I hop back into my car and take a quick trip down to the doctor’s office to check out the scene. There won’t be much I can do just yet, but I want to get a feel for the size and location. I’ll be coming back to stir up trouble later.

My phone rings as I drive down the interstate highway with the windows down. The wind billows through the car so loud that I don’t notice the sound until the third of fourth ring, but I manage to pick it up in time.

“Hello?”

“Hello, sir, it’s John.”

“I’m assuming this is good news,” I say, knowing full well that it isn’t. John doesn’t bother me unless he has something important to say, and since we’ve already gotten lucky with the two captives today, I’m assuming lady luck is swapping roles with her bitch sister.

“Well sir, unfortunately, it isn’t good news,” John says softly.

I roll my eyes. “Out with it.”

“One of the prisoners, they escaped.”

“Escaped?” I ask, a sudden rush of angry heat blooming in my neck and ears.

“Yes, but not the one you spoke to. We didn’t have name for the escapee.”

“I’d hope it wasn’t the one I talked to because I fucking killed the little slimeball half an hour ago,” I growl. “How did he get out?”

“He killed the guard,” John replies.

“What?!”

I don’t believe what I’m hearing. The guy we have guarding the cells in the back of the office is three-hundred pounds of pure muscle, born and bred as a killer, and doesn’t speak a single word of English. How could anyone kill him, much less convince him to open the door to their room and step inside?

“It’s true, sir. They managed to get out through the side window down the hallway,” John continues.

“Who the fuck was he?” I ask. “A goddamn sasquatch?”

“He wasn’t very large.”

“Pull the security tapes immediately. I want them on my desk by the time I get back to the office,” I say, glancing down at my watch as I pull off the highway. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Goodbye.”

I hang up the phone and toss it onto the seat beside me. This has to be a joke, but if it isn’t, we have a major problem on our hands. Anyone who can escape from the holding cell at the office is going to be hard to contain, period. They’ll report back to the Saint Gray Mafia, and that might mean a full-on war before we’re ready.

I curse in a dozen different languages as I pull into the parking lot of the doctor’s office. I was so close to finding the man behind Peter the puppet, and now my cover is going to be blow wide open.

I roll down the nearly empty lot, scanning the back for a place with shade. Most of the cars that are parked are there, but there’s one that isn’t. It’s a silver sedan with rust running up the side of the driver’s side door, and the woman inside looks awfully familiar.

I lean forward, my hands gripping the steering wheel harder as I realize where I’ve seen that lovely face before.

It’s April, the woman I shared a bed with right before I almost got my head blown off two months ago.

But what is she doing here?

Is there something I don’t know about?

I duck my head down as the car passes, but I glance up into my rearview mirror to check her plates as she drives out of the parking lot. I find it rather suspicious that I almost got killed at her apartment two months ago by who I assume to be the Saint Gray Mafia, and now I’m running into her where they’re doing business.

She’s a suspect now, whether she seems innocent or not, so I’m going to have to pay her a visit after I check the tapes at the office. Her license plate will guide me straight to where she’s staying, and once I arrive, she’d better have a damn good alibi for being at the doctor’s office.

I park my car in the back of the parking lot, choosing a small tree to shade me. The sun is glaring down at me like a hive of angry wasps, and with it directly overhead, I’m not getting much of a shadow from the pitifully small tree behind me.

I study the front of the building for a moment, but I can’t concentrate on it for long. April’s serious face floats back into my thoughts like thick grey clouds before a storm. That woman never fails to send a chill through me, and I’m starting to think that feeling isn’t affection. It might just be my body telling me that I’m in danger.

After a minute of looking at the building but being able to focus on it, I decide to head back to the office to review the tapes. John says that the second prisoner managed to escape and kill the guard, but it seems too outlandish to be true.

Something else must be going on, and I’m going to find out what.