Bratva Beast by B.B. Hamel
Mack
Just this once.
Those words kept playing through my mind, over and over.
Her soft flesh beneath my fingers, the pliant way she opened her lips and that soft squeaking moan she released as I pinned her there on the couch.
While in the other room, my old friend Peter lay dead.
I couldn’t think about that. Otherwise, my throat closed up as anger welled up through my body in waves.
I tried to make him stop. I tried to talk to him, but there was no talking to Peter when he decided that something was wrong.
He saw me as a traitor, and in that moment, I knew it would be either me or him.
Fucking Peter.
I didn’t know how much more Evgeni would take away. After we got back to my place, Fiona curled up on the couch and distracted herself with TV while I paced through the kitchen, drinking vodka and trying to figure out what the hell we were going to do.
Each sip felt good. The warmth spread into my limbs and the burn reminded me that I was still alive.
That was all that mattered.
I paused in the doorway and looked out at Fiona. She stared blankly straight ahead, dealing with what happened in her own way. I wished I could do something for her—touch her lips and take her pain away, or somehow remove the memories from her mind. She didn’t need to see Peter die like that.
But there was nothing I could do.
Everything I had, I was giving it over. My past, my future.
For that girl.
And I didn’t know why.
I turned away, finished the vodka, then drifted into the living room.
Fiona looked up, frowned at me a little bit. I perched on the arm of the couch and looked down at her. “We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“I thought you might want to list your favorite movies.”
She looked away. “If you’re going to be a sarcastic dick, I’ll just keep watching TV.”
I grabbed the remote and turned it off. She only sighed like it was too much effort to get annoyed.
“Evgeni’s going to know I killed Peter soon. When he finds out, things are going to get very bad for us.”
She sat up slightly. “What’ll he do?”
“I don’t know. But we have a day at most before they start to wonder why Peter isn’t checking in.”
Her legs stretched out. I looked at them, at the lean muscle, at the smooth skin. I wanted to run my fingers down their length and dig my nails in sharply until she gasped and begged me to stop.
Fuck, what was wrong with me?
My right hand shook and I tucked it away behind my back.
“We can’t run. The Lionettis still have Connor.” She stared down into her lap. “Maybe I can stay behind.”
“Evgeni will only send someone else.”
“Then what can we do?”
“We’ll go talk to him.”
She looked up sharply, eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I know where Evgeni lives. I know how to get inside that house. We’ll pay him a visit tonight and explain everything.”
She opened her mouth then shut it again. She was clearly torn, but I didn’t see how we had any other choice. Tomorrow, Evgeni would get suspicious, Peter’s body would be found, and all hell would break loose. There wasn’t a safe house in the city I could use to hide from Evgeni and the Morozov family.
They knew all my secrets.
And I knew all of theirs.
“You didn’t want to kill that man today, did you?” She finally looked up at me, eyes fierce and angry.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Were you friends?”
“Something like that. We grew up together. Evgeni taught us this business when we were kids.”
She leaned forward. “Then why the hell would you kill him for someone like me?”
I leaned back, not sure how to answer. Tears filled her eyes and she wiped them away angrily, like she was pissed that I’d make her cry.
Like she was pissed that I’d saved her life.
“I told you that I’d keep you safe,” I said softly, head tilted to the side, trying to understand why she seemed so upset.
“But I don’t understand why. You keep killing for me, keep going against your own family, but for what? Don’t you get it, Mack? I’m not worth it.”
I stood up and stared down at her, barely keeping control of my rage. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Her eyes widened and she laughed. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’ve done.”
“And you still don’t get to decide what you’re worth to me. You want to run away and go against this city on your own? Go ahead, you know where the door’s at. But you’ll still be mine, princess. Even if you run away.”
Her jaw tightened. “I don’t want you to throw everything away for me. I don’t want that pressure. I can’t ever pay you back for it.”
I stepped toward her and she leaned back against the couch. Maybe she saw the look in my eyes—pure, starving hunger—or maybe she realized how vulnerable she was again. Either way, the rage faded, replaced by uncertainty.
I knelt down in front of her and put both hands on her thighs. I spread her legs gently and looked her in the eyes.
“You don’t owe me a thing. You don’t owe anyone anything. Do you hear me, Fiona?”
“You don’t know what I owe.” The words came out strangled.
I squeezed her thighs hard enough to dimple her skin.
Hard enough to bruise.
“I don’t care what you’ve done. Don’t you get it? I’m a monster and a killer. I’ve been broken more times than I can count. But right now, all I know is I want to keep you safe. I want to help you save your brother and do the right thing for once in my miserable, horrible life. I don’t care if you think you’re worthless. I’m telling you, to me, you’re worth so much more than you’ll ever know.”
Her lips parted and that tongue, that delicious tongue, pressed against her teeth, and her gorgeous eyes widened as she bit down on her plump lower lip—but I pulled back, released her legs, and stood up.
My cock strained against my pants as I turned away. “We’re leaving late tonight. Get some sleep if you can.”
She didn’t answer as I walked away.
Just this once.
I meant what I said. She had one pass—but when I wanted her and when I saw that same look reflected back at me, when I tasted her hunger and felt her arousal slick on my fingers, I wouldn’t stop again.
I wouldn’t hold back, not anymore.
* * *
Evgeni lived in a small, simple house in the Wharton neighborhood. It was filled with mostly Eastern-European immigrants and their descendants and working-class folks down in the eastern half of South Philly, and Evgeni blended in perfectly. I had somewhat fond memories of my time in that house—and some nightmares.
Fiona squinted out her window. “That’s it?”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Grandeur, I guess. He’s the head of a pretty major crime family.”
“Does Cormac live in a mansion?”
She shrugged. “No, but the Italians—”
I waved that off. “The Italians are all show.” I pushed the door open and stepped out into the night. “Come on.”
She followed me down the block. I bypassed the front door, since it was electronically locked and watched by two different security cameras. I didn’t care if the family knew I paid Evgeni a visit, but I didn’t want him to be alerted before I got inside.
The back of the block had a thin, glass-strewn alley running between the backyards. We squeezed down the path, walking carefully.
“Don’t step too hard,” I whispered in her ear, holding onto her arm and keeping her close. Her warmth was like a nightlight in the black. “You don’t want to break any glass or get a needle through your foot.”
Her eyes widened. “Needles? Seriously?”
I only smiled and pulled her along.
Evgeni’s house was midway down the block. I jumped the fence first then helped her over. The backyard was just like I remembered: all the flowerbeds were dead, sprayed with weed killer every year.
I walked to the left side and picked up a rock tucked back into the dirt. I dug down with my fingers and found the buried key. I held it up and it glinted off the moonlight.
Fiona smiled nervously, her arms hugging herself as I unlocked the back door and pushed it open.
The alarm buzzed. I hurried to the pad and entered the code. It turned off—but Evgeni would be awake now. I closed the door and gestured for Fiona to follow.
Evgeni’s place was sparsely furnished. I probably got that from him. There was very little on the walls, only a few pictures and paintings done by local Russian craftsmen and artists, the sort of stuff he could point out and say, look, here, I support our people. The stairs creaked as we walked up them and light bloomed from beneath Evgeni’s bedroom door. I glanced down the hall, back to the room where I used to stay—
And refused to go near it.
Too many bad memories.
I held a hand up and Fiona waited a few feet back on the stairs. I gripped the gun in my waistband as I slowly opened Evgeni’s door.
He was sitting up in bed with his hands clasped over his chest. His pale chest was covered in fine black and silver hair and the bedside lamp sent shadows across the room. His face seemed haggard and drawn and older than it had in the deli.
I stepped to the end of the bed. He didn’t move, only stared at me with that impassive gaze.
“I knew it would be you,” he said finally, breaking the silence.
“Peter’s dead.”
He sighed and looked almost pained. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
I bit back on the anger. “You sent him there.”
“It’s only business, boy. Come, sit on the bed. We can discuss this.”
There it was. The tinge of fear in his voice.
He thought I might kill him.
I smiled, head tilted. “No, I think I’ll stay here. I’m not going to keep you long.”
“What do you want, Mack?”
I turned my head slightly, but didn’t take my eyes from him. “Fiona, come in here please.”
I heard Fiona enter the room. Evgeni’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly got control of his expression.
“She’s prettier than I thought she’d be. I suppose that makes sense.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Fiona said softly from behind me.
“It’s time you understood what’s going on.” I reached out with my free hand and took Fiona’s arm, pulling her forward. She reluctantly looked down at Evgeni. “This girl’s an innocent. I think you know that already, but I want to you look at her and understand. She’s not a part of this world and I don’t plan on letting you kill her.”
Evgeni frowned slightly. “So it’s come to that then?”
“Her brother was kidnapped by the Lionettis. Right now, they have him in some basement. I plan on helping her get him out of their clutches.”
Evgeni took a deep breath and I expected him to rage at me.
Instead, he shook his head.
“I already knew.”
I took a step back and felt Fiona tense in my hand.
“You knew about Connor?” she asked, her voice dripping with anger and desperation.
Evgeni spread his hands in front of him. “Why do you think I wanted you dead? Of course we knew. I wanted to make sure you couldn’t spy for the Lionettis and give that snake Park the leverage he needs to upset the balance.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, fingers digging into Fiona’s arm.
“Things are good right now, Mack. The Morozovs are growing fatter each day as we chip away at the Lionettis. The Doyles are happy to stay in their little corner and interbreed with each other. But if the Lionettis start to take strength from the Doyles, or if they spark another city-wide war, things could be very bad. I wanted to make sure the girl didn’t upset the delicate balance we’ve worked so hard to create.”
I let out a sharp laugh. So that was the reason. Evgeni didn’t kill without some greater strategy—I knew it was a possibility, but hearing it from his mouth still sent a dagger of surprise and anger down into my intestines. I was half tempted to pull the gun and finish him off here and now, and only didn’t because he expected that from me, and I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being right.
“You were going to murder me and let my brother die all for your little games,” Fiona said, choking with murderous rage.
“It’s nothing personal. But I suppose you’re lucky I sent Mack. I’m not sure there’s another man in this city that would’ve saved you.”
I released Fiona’s arm. “I want you to back down, Evgeni. Leave us alone.”
“And what will I get in return?”
“I’ll solve your problem. If we save her brother from the Lionettis, they won’t have leverage anymore. The city will return to its stasis and you won’t have to worry about your precious power anymore.”
Evgeni stroked the stubble on his chin. “Tempting. But you did kill Peter.”
I felt that like a hammer to my mouth. “Don’t forget about Boris,” I managed.
We lapsed into silence. Evgeni watched me carefully while Fiona trembled with barely suppressed anger. If we didn’t finish this soon, she’d do something stupid, and I didn’t want to risk that.
“If I agree to this, you’re finished in the Bratva.” Evgeni’s voice was smooth like silk and sharp like the knives he used to jam into my body as part of my training. “Do you understand what that means, Mack? You leave the family. You leave the damn city. After you fix this, both of you are gone.”
I sucked in a breath then looked at Fiona. Her eyes were wide and she stared back at me.
An unspoken conversation hung in the air.
I couldn’t decide this for her. She had family here, her entire world was on these streets.
And it was the same for me. All I knew was the Bratva.
They were my life.
And now, I might have to give that up and find some other meaning in an otherwise impossible and brutal world.
Fiona nodded, ever so slightly.
I looked back at Evgeni. “You’ve got a deal. We’ll solve this problem with Connor, and you’ll back the fuck off until it’s finished.”
Evgeni nodded slowly. “It’s a deal then.”
I grabbed Fiona’s hand and pulled her away from that bed. I turned my back on my mentor, on a man that was practically my father, and walked to the door. I couldn’t stay there a moment longer, not in this house where I’d bled, where I’d given so much of myself and left a broken man.
Pieces of me were scattered between the floorboards.
“You break my heart, Mack,” Evgeni called out as I reached the stairs. “You were like a son to me. I loved you.”
I paused, only for a moment.
Then walked away as fast as I could.
Fiona kept up. I went back out the front door. Fuck the cameras.
Fuck everything.
I slammed my fists against the steering wheel of my truck and Fiona watched me with silent, pitying eyes.
I hated that look. And hated myself for letting my rage slip toward her.
“Mack,” she said softly and touched my arm.
I shrugged her off. But she touched me again. Gently, probing, kind. She leaned closer.
“Mack,” she said again.
I couldn’t meet her gaze.
The Morozov Bratva was my entire world. I was ripped from my old life and brought up to believe in Evgeni like a savior. He broke me down then built me again, he gave me all my skills, made me what I am today.
Without the Bratva, I was nothing.
I was less than nothing. I was a monster, a killer with no cause.
“Mack.” Fiona’s voice was closer, right next to my ear. Her breath was warm on my neck. She pulled me against her and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me close.
I didn’t know how to react.
I couldn’t remember the last time someone hugged me. This sort of thing didn’t happen to me. I dealt with my emotions the only way I knew how: through drinking and fucking and fighting and killing.
I didn’t get hugged. I didn’t get comforted.
But Fiona was warm against my body, her breasts pressed to my shoulder, his chin next to my neck. I shifted slightly and wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer, holding her in the truck as rage and anguish rolled through me in equal measure.
Done with the Bratva. Done with my life.
Except there was still a glimmer of hope.
Not for the Morozovs—no, I knew there was no going back.
I knew it the moment I killed Boris in the street.
But Fiona was that hope.
Maybe if I could take care of her the way I’d never been able to take care of another person before, maybe then I can come back from whatever grave I was currently digging for myself.
She was the reason for all this, and I couldn’t lose sight of that.
“Come on,” I said softly and gently pulled away from her. “Let’s get home and try to sleep. I have a feeling we’re going to be busy soon.”
She sank back into her seat as I left that house behind.
