Distrust (Smirnov Bratva Book 1) (2 page)

That was my first taste of my devil, and it wouldn’t be my last.

Chapter 2

Kazier

Present

I like the sound of blood, it’s a strange sensation. I like how it drips, each and every drop so magnificent in its own right. Each drop looking for a destination, like it hungers to go somewhere to survive, to live.

The splatter of blood intrigues me the most, especially when a gun is involved. The blood basically runs, trespassing on anybody that comes too close. It touches the skin, clothes, wherever it can. Blood doesn’t discriminate. It will go to anywhere and touch anyone. When a knife is involved, it’s like a breathtaking waterfall. It doesn’t start off slow, it gushes, especially when a major artery like across the neck is involved—my favorite site.

I sit back and watch as my men cut the man whose time on this earth has come to an end. Viktor goes directly for the throat, one long gash, straight along. It’s so even that I sit in the chair watching it, my leg bouncing up and down intrigued by the display.

The men get up to leave, abandoning the body where it falls. I sit, watching the waterfall stream and drop, it coats everything around him making a beautiful dark red puddle—soaking into his clothes, seeping into the cracks between the tiles.

I’m usually the one cutting, shooting, doing the damage, especially when the business is personal, except when I want to watch then it’s like my own private show. They make it quick, they never indulge me. It’s like they’re aware I could stay here in the same spot, watching until it’s dry, waiting till the last drop drips out.

I hear the honk of a horn. My leg is still vibrating up and down, waiting, watching for it to stop. Then the honk starts again. That incessant noise will cause an audience if I don’t leave soon. I drop down so I’m close, my hand reaching out, wanting to touch. My fingertips graze over it, the warmth coats my fingers. I run my fingers along the tiles, creating marks and lines, decorating, just wanting the blood to keep moving. Then another honk sounds, I look one last time, then wipe my hands on the man’s shirt.

He should have listened when he was warned his life was at risk. This man should have never crossed a family like mine. Sometimes they never learn, and ultimately all they get is death either by my hand, or someone else’s.

I snatch the can off the floor when I walk past and pop the lid then cover the floor in gasoline, letting it soak over him and as much of everything near him. I drop the can, grabbing a cigarette from my pocket, then the matches. I strike the first and it’s a dud, nothing happens. The second match lights, the fire licking and flickering in its plume of reds and oranges around its head. Bringing it carefully to my cigarette, I watch as it burns through the wood making that crackling sound. Once completely lit, I flick it away from me.

Fire is like a dance, a wild, unpredictable dance. It’s a beautiful thing to watch—it can quite literally, hold you in its trance. Fire is like Elina, you can’t get too close because if you do, be prepared for the burn.

Chapter 3

Kazier

His middle finger taps on the glass. Tap, tap. He has these tells. Tell-tale signs as to when he’s getting angry, or when he wants to kill. I look down, realizing I’m doing the exact same thing, tapping my glass. My eyes burn through the glass, wondering what answers it holds for me because I need them. I want the answers. No one seems to have what I need! They have solutions, solutions I don’t want nor need.

My father especially.

I can’t disobey.

Even though I do.

No one in my family has disobeyed their elders for years.

If they did, they didn’t live to speak of it.

I wanted to disobey, I didn’t want what was to come. I wanted to choose, even knowing how impossible that would be.

I looked back to him again, his fingers still doing the same thing—mine mimicking his. He’s a politician, a respected man. He’s also my father, but a criminal at heart. He’s sitting at our large dining table talking pleasantries with guests, whispering in Russian to his closer colleagues when he wants something hidden. He’s good, he’s always been good at keeping secrets, destroying lives. I suppose that’s where I get it from. Sounds kind of ironic don’t you think? Like that song,
I Got It From My Mamma
. Well, I got it from my father.

People are still bustling in, bringing a tray of food or a gift as they enter. It’s rude to come to someone’s house empty handed. The table is full of food, the options are endless. I sit here being the good child, one that respects his elders in their home and putting on the face my father requests of me.

I’ve tried paying attention, even when my name is called, but I just can’t. I haven’t seen her for two weeks. I need her like a wolf needs its last meal. I want her, and every one of my brothers knew this, they have seen our encounters. They’ve seen the way I push her against a wall and fuck her with my mouth. I couldn’t keep my hands to myself, I am like a horny teenage boy and I’m never like this—ever. I fuck. I enjoy fucking. I never crave, but I crave her, and two weeks feels more like a year.

The guests have started to leave and I didn’t even notice. I’m too lost in how she snuck away, like a ghost. She’s so good at that, sneaking away. I always try to give her my undivided attention just to have her longer, keep her with me, but she slips through my fingers like water slides through your lips.

How the fuck can I be this crazy?

“Kazier!” My father’s voice snaps me from my thoughts. Anton kicks me under the table, I glare at him before facing my father. “You have come of age…” He pauses, picks up his glass of vodka, swirling it around and taking a sip then carefully placing it back down before his eyes penetrate me again. “It’s time to take your responsibilities to this family more seriously. I have given you time, let you deface your body, but now, it’s time you ran it all. You are the Pakhan—” He stops and looks around the table, the only people left are those allowed to be there when we talk. Their families are part of our family. They have the same responsibilities as me, possibly not as much, though they understand. “You
will
meet with her in a week,” he states finalizing the one-sided conversation. Standing and looking at each of us once more before he walks away.

I haven’t always been in charge, but when my father ran for office as a politician, I became the boss by proxy.

Anton starts laughing as soon as he leaves earshot. Viktor grabs the bottle of vodka and starts to drink directly from it. I glare at both of them.

“No more kissing and fucking like a teenage boy,” Anton says, laughing.

I kick his shin hard under the table, and he yelps when he jumps.

“What if we kill her?” Viktor says, continuing to hold the bottle he’s drinking from.

“What?”

I give him a death glare—
the shit that leaves his mouth.

“You know I could kill her. Then you won’t have to marry her,” he declares like it’s an obvious choice.

Fuck!
Marry someone I hardly know and haven’t even met… in two months.

“We don’t even know her name,” Anton chimes in.

Thinking of it, I slam my hands on the table, and they both snap their heads back to me.

“You’re not killing her! Do you understand?”

“Whatever you say, boss. Just remember… the offer stands.”

“Get the fucking car,” I say, pushing my chair back abruptly, the scrape across the floor almost deafening. Walking off to the front door, they both follow behind like little puppy dogs faithful to their master.

Anton dashes to grab the car parked down the street. He’s louder and more robust than most. Where Viktor is more the silent type and often speaks only to those he trusts.

They’re both on steroids! Well, possibly not, but I do like to fuck with them. They are, however, built like brick houses. All muscle and power.

Anton flies down the streets of Brooklyn, not even caring about the police. They don’t register on his radar at all. To us, they aren’t as dangerous as other people. People who will shoot, stab, at just the sight of us. After a few miles of driving at speeds that would make a normal person shudder, we arrive.

“How much does he owe?” Viktor asks, stepping out of the truck.

We all follow him in, entering the small restaurant via the back door. Garbage scattered on the ground crunches under our boots, while laughter is heard echoing out from inside. It doesn’t stop us from entering.

“Over twenty thousand,” Anton replies in a low voice while shaking his head.

“Seriously! Did he need to buy some expensive pussy or what?”

I don’t answer because as soon as we enter, there she is. Her heels high, her legs crossed, her skirt riding up her thighs. Both Anton and Viktor punch me in the side to stop me from staring. I can’t help it!
Why the fuck does she do this to me?

“Close your mouth, you have some drool,” Anton says with a laugh as he walks straight past her to go behind the counter. She just watches me, sitting in her seat, her legs crossed like she’s hypnotizing me.

“Boss,” Viktor says, pointing to where Anton currently has the man by his neck, feet dangling off the ground.

His temper needs to be checked.

“Deal with it!” Viktor does the same thing, walks straight past her. She stands when he walks behind the counter, taking two very loud steps toward me. Is it so loud because she’s all I can hear and see? Or is it because I’m afraid if I turn she’ll disappear?

“Missed me, sugar?” She walks so close I can smell her, then she starts circling me like I’m her prey.

Hell, maybe I am!

“Elina,” I say, letting her name roll off my lips.

“I’ve missed you.” She stops walking around me and stops directly in front. Her voice makes my dick hard—it’s hard, yet it feels sweet.

“Stop disappearing, then you wouldn’t!”

She cocks her head to the side and bites her lip. I should be worried, that she knows, that she wants other things, though all I want at this point in time is her.

“Are you running away again?” I circle her now, memorizing every curve, then locking it away. She stands still—hands down by her sides, her posture perfect.

“Depends…” She smirks.

I want to keep her talking.

I want that voice wrapped around me.

I want to never stop listening to it.

“On what?” Her posture doesn’t waver.

“On what you can offer me.”

“What I can offer?” I ask, confused.

Her hand reaches out again, touching my shoulder. She steps another step closer, her heels clicking loudly on the tiled surface letting it echo through the diner.

Then she whispers in my ear, “Yes. What can a man like you offer someone like me?” Her words seep through my body, making me crave her, want her more.

“Me…”

Her head drops to the side while she stares at me. “And?”

I look at her confused, pulling her body close to mine, bringing her into me by holding her waist—it’s tiny and feels so fragile like I could snap her in half.

“Do you really want to know what someone like me can do to a girl like you?”

Her mouth is inches from mine. We both watch each other’s lips, mesmerized.

“No, I don’t. How about you show me?” Her heart shape lips lift up in a smile. Those lips, they’re tantalizing. They beg to be kissed, beg to be bitten.

I smash my lips to hers, my hands move down to the curve of her hips and land on her ass. Her hands come up around my neck, she pulls me closer, then one hand drops and I feel it going lower. She bites my lip, softly, then her hand grabs my ass squeezing it hard as I kiss her deeply.

I want to fuck her so fucking bad it’s driving me crazy. I want to take her right here, right now. I want to bend her over the chair her ass was sitting on only minutes ago and make her scream out my name, till it’s the last name that leaves those lips. She’s a witch, she’s bewitching me, and I hardly know anything about her.

What a fucked up situation I’m in. Especially, when I’m due to be married off soon. Fuck!

“Once you finish face fucking, we have shit to do,” Viktor’s voice breaks through.

I feel her hands glide back up and sense her beginning to pull away. I don’t let her, as I continue kissing her. I don’t care who’s watching. They can watch. Hell, they can watch me fuck her if she’s into that.

She pulls back from me, breaking contact, her hands leave me, signifying loss. I hold on for a minute longer, then turn around when the boys make a grunting sound. They have the shop owner on the floor, his face all bruised and bloody. I turn and notice Elina watching, she looks down at him then back at me.

“Goodbye,” she says pulling all the way away, and I’m helpless as I watch her walk out. Observing her hips sway, her heels clicking loudly on the tiled floor, and I stand there like an idiot until Anton pulls my attention away.

“Should we kill him?” Anton asks.

Looking down at the man who’s curled up in a scared child-like posture, I shake the kiss from my thoughts. As I bend down to face the man, his eyes are basically so swollen they’re sealed shut. Noticing he can still see me out of one, but he closes it completely when I’m in front of him.