Bratva Beast by B.B. Hamel
Mack
Azar was pretty pissed when he called that afternoon.
My back ached from breaking down Fiona’s dad and getting rid of him in the Schuylkill, and I almost didn’t answer Azar’s call. I picked it up and wiped sweat from my brow as I walked back along the river trail, surrounded by nice people doing their nice things, and hoped nobody would notice the blood splattered on my shoes.
“You know I’ve had cops outside of my store since that boy died, yes?”
“Sorry, Azar. Wasn’t my fault.”
“Your fault, their fault, I don’t care. Dead boys aren’t good for my business.”
“Is the phone unlocked?” I didn’t feel like getting lectured, especially not when I thought I had a little brain matter under my fingernails.
Bodies were extremely gross.
“Phone is unlocked. Gave it a new passcode, 0000. So even a big brute like you could handle it.”
“Thank you, Azar, although I could do without the insults.”
He sighed. “Only messing with you. It’s been a very annoying couple of days.”
“I’ll swing past and grab the phone. Are the cops still hanging around?”
“One’s been up on the corner since it happened. Other than that, it’s OK. I think you’ll be fine to come in.”
“Good. Have it ready. I’ll be there in forty-five.” I put the phone back in my pocket and picked up the pace.
My truck was parked right on South Street. I tore up north along Broad, pausing only to text Fiona that I was making a detour, that everything was fine, and I’d be home soon. She texted back OK and nothing else.
I couldn’t imagine what was going through the girl’s head right now.
At least she didn’t stick around to watch me kill and dismember her old man. Letting me shoot him was bad enough—but watching me break his arm into several small pieces was maybe a bit too much.
I had a black rage in my heart, thinking about what that family put its people through. The Morozovs weren’t much better, but at least they were honest about everything. I heard what her father said before I kicked down that door, and the idea of him beating that poor little kid with that belt in order to toughen him up made me sick to my stomach.
Evgeni did something similar with me. But at least when he punched me in the face, then locked me in a room alone with no food or water for twelve hours, at least he explained why he was doing it. He didn’t just show up every night, beat my ass, then expect me to feel grateful afterwards.
Killing Fiona’s dad felt better than it should’ve.
If I were a thinking man, the kind of man that looked very deeply at himself, I might start to make certain connections between the feeling I got when I shot Fiona’s dad in the skull and my own adopted father, Evgeni. I might start thinking that maybe it wasn’t Fiona’s dad that I wanted to kill, but my own.
But fortunately, I wasn’t a thinking man, because killing Evgeni wouldn’t be a simple thing, even for me.
Azar’s place was all quiet. He met me out on the sidewalk and thrust the phone at me. “This was a real pain in the butt, you know.”
“Sorry to hear it.” I typed in the passcode and it opened up. The kid had a stupid Celtic cross as his background. “Thanks, though.”
Azar waved a hand and headed back inside. “You ever need another one of those unlocked, you know where I am. Don’t kill anyone again though, please.”
“Can’t make promises.” I got back in the truck and drove back to the apartment.
Fiona met me at the door, looking eager. I held up the phone and waved it in the air.
“Does it work?” She followed me into the kitchen and I unlocked it for her. She gasped with delight and snatched it away. “God, I’ve always wanted to go through someone else’s phone. Aren’t you curious about that sort of thing?”
“I’m not much of a snoop.”
“I’m not either, but it’s just, I’m curious. These stupid phones know so much about us.” She hesitated, frowning at the screen. “And now suddenly I’m having a moment of conscience.”
“Don’t worry then. I’m not.” I snatched the phone from her. “You’re too nice sometimes.”
“Sorry I’m not a big monster like you.”
I grinned and kissed her lips viciously. “Oh, you’re a monster, but you’re a little beautiful one instead.”
“Thanks, maybe.”
I sat down at the kitchen table and she joined me, pulling her chair right up against mine. She leaned against my arm and looked over my shoulder, and seemed much more like herself than she had when I last left her.
I wanted to ask why, but decided not yet.
“You still need to find out how many men are going to be there for Renzo, right?”
“Yeah, exactly.” She chewed her thumbnail. “Does he have a number for a guy named Padraig Maguire?”
I scrolled through the address book. “Lots of uncles in here… Uncle Maguire? Would that be it?”
“That’s it. Ask him. I think he was close with Tully.”
I opened up a new message with him and the phone populated the old conversation. Sure enough, there were a fair number of texts, stretching back weeks. Tully and Uncle Maguire did seem close—though they messaged almost exclusively about the Phillies.
“They sure do love baseball.”
“That’s all code. I heard the boys talking about it once. They’re texting about drug drops.”
I snorted. “Figures. I didn’t think anyone could like baseball this much.”
“You’re not into baseball?”
“Nah, I’m a football man myself. Sports aren’t worth watching if there’s not a chance of someone getting seriously injured.”
She rolled her eyes. “Typical meathead.”
“Just how I feel.”
“Type up the message, meathead.”
I hesitated, letting my big thumbs hover over the tiny keyboard. “I’m not sure how to do this. Would Tully ask in code?”
“If we would, we don’t know it.” She grabbed the phone from me. “Here, I’ll do it.”
I watched her type, Thinking about the drop next week. How many guys u need? She frowned at it, got rid of the capital letters, added a typo, and hit send.
We stared at the phone. The message went through.
Nothing else happened.
“Well, crap. I hoped he’d answer right away.”
Then three dots appeared and she let out a shocked squeal. I grabbed the phone from her and stood, walking away.
She hurried after me.
“He’s typing, hold on.”
She tried to jump up and grab it. “Let me see, let me see.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “This is kind of sad, you know. You’re a grown-ass woman.”
“I’m aware.” She tried to climb me like a pole. “Give me that phone. God, you’re big, has anyone ever told you that?”
“Plenty of times.” I checked the screen.
Why u wanna know?? Maguire said.
Fiona finally snatched it away then paced back and forth before typing. Uncle Quinn wants 2 know. Idk Cormac asked him too. I don’t ask questions. She hit send.
“Who’s Uncle Quinn?”
She didn’t look at me. “My dad. I figure he can’t deny it.”
I felt a little stab in my gut. The girl was getting jaded. I didn’t know if I liked it or wanted to preserve whatever shred of innocence she had left.
All right, boy, you tell Quinn he can come talk to me then.
“He’s not buying it.” Fiona glared at the phone. “Why can’t this be easy?”
“Give it to me.” I grabbed it from her. She tried to grab it back, but I held up over my face and typed back.
He’s here with me right now. Getting kinda annoyed. Can u just tell me please so I can shut him up?
I hit send and Fiona stared up at me with big eyes.
“You know we don’t know where Tully is right now?” she asked, frowning deeply. “I just realized he could be with Uncle Maguire.”
“Could be, but again, it’s a risk we’ve got to take.” The phone vibrated and I handed it over to Fiona before she could attack me again.
She stared at the phone greedily then burst out laughing. She turned the screen to me.
Ten boys plus me and Quinn. He should know this shit. Tell him I’m sick of repeating myself.
“Eleven then,” I said, nodding at her sharply. “Since one of them’s at the bottom of the Schuylkill.”
She grimaced and turned her back. I cursed to myself softly—what the hell was wrong with me? I didn’t know how to keep my fat mouth shut sometimes.
“I didn’t mean to—”
She waved me off. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You just lost your father. You’re not fine.” I was being insensitive. I could do that sometimes. “Come here.”
She hesitated, but walked into my arms. I hugged her tight then kissed her neck, her lips, tasted the flood of honey and pleasure, like a kick in my guts. I touched her cheek softly with my fingertips then took the phone and tossed it onto the couch.
She stood up on her toes and kissed my chin.
“We can deal with all that tomorrow. Tonight, I’m going to take care of you.”
“How?”
“First, I’m going to feed you. When was the last time you ate?”
She hesitated. “Yesterday.”
“Food first. Then I’ll get you something to drink. Champagne, whatever. Then when you’ve had a glass, and you’re starting to feel better, I’ll bring you into my room and explore all the little details I haven’t had a chance to enjoy yet.”
“Little details?” Her voice was husky with excitement.
“That little curve of your lip. The bottoms of your breasts. The skin along your calf. The folds of your pussy, every little detail. I want to make you forget, at least for a few hours. Can you let me do that, princess?”
“You can try. I won’t stop you.”
“Good. Food first. Then distraction.”
I kissed her, falling into that mouth, her lips and tongue. She pressed herself hard against me and I put my hands on her hips and cupped her ass, and was reminded of why I was doing all this to start with.
I wanted her, needed her bad. Wanted to spend my life giving her whatever she needed.
Whatever whim, whatever pleasure. I wanted to give her everything.
First, I had to save her brother.
And then I’d save her.
