Russian Roulette (Russkaya Mafiya) (27 page)

He steps carefully across the slippery floor behind the bar, not scuffing the expensive shoes decorating his feet, until he is a mere twelve inches away from me. He gazes at me, wiith an expression full of concern.

Viktor’s eyes can be filled with menace at times, though he’s shown me nothing but kindness since I first woke up out of my hospital haze over a year ago. Another horrible memory to add to my list; unfortunately that one was my own doing.

“Are you…?” he starts to ask. Puzzled, I tilt my head. He brushes his hand tenderly down the side of my arm and peers into my eyes, trying to gauge how I am.

I clear my throat loudly. “Uh, yeah, I’m okay.” It comes out a tad gruff for me but I’m still a bit overwhelmed.

He nods minutely and bites the side of his lip. He regards each crevice of my face, watching, reading my features for any clues. He won’t find anything, I’ve been hiding my feelings about many things, those for him included, for far too long. I do care about him as a friend and of course he
is
devastatingly good looking with his strong Russian features.

I blink rapidly a few times and step back, “Sorry, that guy just caught me off-guard.”

He can’t be touching me like that. I don’t know what to think when he touches me so I shuffle backwards more and try to collect my bearings. I turn away from him, effectively putting up my protective wall.

He simply nods, clenches his fist and makes his way back to his seat at the end of the bar.

I quickly walk to the opposite side of the bar to tend to the other customers. OO7 is a very busy club, but thankfully only special orders come to the bartender. With the unlimited drinks here, included in the huge door fee, there is always a drunken guy being a dick at some point.

After growing up in foster homes it really doesn’t bother me. I have met my fair share of assholes trying to take advantage of me. I guess I feel like there is this barrier, like they can’t get to me because of the large bar between us. It’s probably naïve of me to feel that way but I do.

At least here there’s some sort of monitoring; Viktor always takes care of any issues I may have. He doesn’t know just how grateful I am for that. I try to keep those things to myself though.

I don’t want to appear weak to any man. I’ve definitely gone through my fair share and I have learned a man will take full advantage of any sign of weakness. Viktor doesn’t know just how scared I get when someone crosses that line.

I glimpse over at him nonchalantly while refilling the four napkin stations placed randomly on top of the bar. He’s beautiful. My sister is so lucky to have married someone who looks like Viktor. He is tall, and strong; not the beefed up strong, but solid enough to easily carry me out of the bar over his shoulder. I know that much for sure, since he’s done it a few times.

Vik is dressed in a crisp suit each time I see him. His clothes fit as if they were made specifically for him. With his money though, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were custom made. We could be running an errand and yet he still dresses so formally, I tend to look like a bum next to him.

Personally, as long as I’m wearing clean clothes and they are comfortable, I’m good. He says appearances are important. However, when you are deep in mafia territory I doubt it really matters. He could be wearing a tank top and board shorts, but if they see Viktor, they know he is the king ding-a-ling around here besides Tate.

His hair is short, complimented by a proud nose, almost as if he was bred to be stuck up. He’s not though. Viktor’s just observant and quiet.

His eyes are the same as Tate’s. They’re a gorgeous hazel, except a little more on the green side. Viktor’s also older at twenty-seven, and acts every bit of it. I rarely see him smile unless I pop off and say something amusing.

I swallow as I take in his five o’clock shadow. He shouldn’t be allowed to look so good; it’s not fair to other men.

I’m caught blatantly staring as he looks over at me and our irises meet—his hazel to my sparkly blues. I blush and turn away. No more gawking, it’s time to finish up my shift.

Viktor

I sit observing her, every single shift. Each time she’s here, she wears a tight little skirt that hugs her hips. It’s glued to her like a second skin. I feel as if the skirt has a leash on me, taunting me every time she passes me to serve someone else. Then there are the times she bends over cleaning or digging out more supplies and I’m met with the smooth skin on the backs of her thighs. I would insist she wear pants but I fear they would outline her ass perfectly and be just as taxing on my libido.

Her sweet little smiles I get on occasion are payment enough for sitting here, putting up with obnoxious drunks. I don’t mind a few drinks. However, when you are in here all the time and act abhorrent, I have no patience.

Every week I corner the manager for her schedule, so I can be here with her. I threaten him each time with being fired. I know he secretly looks at her, wants her, and fantasizes about her. He’s lucky I do not kill him for it. If she were mine, I would hurt him.

She may be stubborn and believe I am bothersome, but I have to be. Ever since that day I was sent to dispose of her, it was like something in me demanded to protect her. I’ve never looked at a woman before and felt as if I was literally pulled toward her.

I cherish that day in the hospital, her lying there helpless and sweet. The taste of her skin, her scent, even tainted with the after smell of alcohol made me want her desperately. I promised Emily I wouldn’t let anyone harm her sister and I meant it. Now that she is Tate’s wife, she is also like a little sister to me.

In the past I have hinted to Elaina about my feelings, but she hasn’t taken me seriously. I feel as if I’m a desperate fool, constantly lusting after her. Not once has Elaina made a move to show she wants to be more than just friends. It’s crushing, but I still hold out for her with each shift she works.

She zigzags behind the bar, working in haste. I love how her cheeks flush with a fine mist of perspiration. I can picture her beautifully, riding me, covered in that same pink blush. Perhaps her ass is pink too, with a few of my hand prints. She looks like the type of sweet girl who could use a few spankings.

She is a hard worker and I admire how well she handles customers. OO7 is lucky to have her as an employee. The men here should be paying me just to watch her work the bar.

I offered once to take care of her. She brushed it off as if the idea were ludicrous. Taking in her loveliness, it’s far from ridiculous.

In Russia when I was a small boy, we were taught to look for splendor, so it’s natural for me to gravitate towards her. She is all beauty. She encompasses the all-American, girl-next-door look.

She’s perfect with her freckles and blue eyes. With her corn-colored blonde hair she screams American, but if it were a few shades lighter, she could definitely pass as a Russian girl.

At least I know that if Mother were to ever meet her there would not be any issues, since she adores Emily. God, that dinner prior to Tate and Emily’s wreck was hilarious. I thought our mother was going to pull her hair out and then spit on Emily. I couldn’t stop chuckling at the little comments she kept making. I knew Tate was a goner as soon as I saw them get out of the car. He had an almost feral look when I greeted Emily. Frankly, I’m surprised he let Mother get away with as much as she did.

Mishka is the one I would really want Elaina to meet if I had a choice. She was always more of a mother to Tate and me growing up. She cooked for us, got us ready for our private school and even slapped us on occasion if we were out of control. Mother didn’t dare touch us or my father would have gone ballistic, but Mishka would have busted Papa’s knees. Tate had to get his knee fetish from somewhere.

I know my father would call Elaina a princess, as she resembles such. However, that trash will never meet her, I’ll make sure of it. He may be my father, but he died to me when he double crossed me and my brother. He is fortunate we let him live this long.

Have you ever met someone and just known there was something about them? That’s exactly how I felt the first time I heard her speak to me from that hospital bed.

I was already drawn to her, to her beauty and sweet smell. Then her soft, sweet voice sounded like a melody and it was like my eyes were opened for the first time to this love at first sight notion. Now each time she talks to me, I hear that harmony and it brings a little bit of bliss into my stressful life.

None of it matters though, as she couldn’t care less if I sat here. She has told me many times she is a grown up and can take care of herself. She may be independent, but deep inside she needs me, I know it.

When she wrecked her car into my brother’s she was extremely drunk. She tried to get crazy the last time London, Avery and Emily all came to OO7. Luckily, I’d brought her and was able to take her home safely. She is careless and it drives me mad. How can such a perfect creature not take better care of herself?

I turn away from her as Alexei, my guard, approaches me. I’m still sipping on my vodka-seven Elaina prepared for me. She’s passable at making drinks, not great, but okay. I won’t be drinking her martinis anytime soon, though.

“Boss,” he says quietly, scanning our surroundings.

“What is it, Alexei?”

“I dumped him out back. Are you sure?” he double checks. He really is a diligent employee and I enjoy him working for me, but I have to keep them all on their toes.

“You question me?” I stare him down crazily. “He touched her. Yes. Take care of it, or I will,” I snap, annoyed.

“Very good, sir. Consider it done,” he replies and stands to his full height. He isn’t a big man, maybe six foot or so like I am. He may have me beat muscle wise, but I’ve been training for most of my life in killing methods.

I gesture with my hand, indifferent. “Take him to the docks. Feed him to the rats.”

“Yes, Boss,” he replies, unfazed, and strides toward the back entrance.

The punishment may appear harsh, but everyone in here who watched what happened with her needs to see. They will witness Alexei leave through the back and know that the drunk will never return.

They will learn she belongs to the Solntsvskaya Bratva. To the boss, to me. Even if she’s unaware of it, they won’t be.

Hawk, the manager of Taint is here filling in. He’s a decent employee, but I prefer it when Elaina works with another female. I take special notice each time Elaina talks to Hawk, trying to work out what exactly they are saying. Unfortunately for me though, I can’t read lips very well.

I can’t stand it when he leans in close, or touches her. I want to fire him each time he lays his hand on her sun-kissed arm. I hold myself back though. I know she wouldn’t forgive me for acting so petty.

I tend to take stock when she speaks to any male who isn’t just there for a quick bar transaction. Hawk’s here to fill in for one of the other bartenders who was meant to relieve Elaina, but called in sick. Of course I already know this from the manager informing me earlier, but act oblivious to it.

She gives him a small side-hug and a smile, then grabs her purse. She’s getting ready to leave, throwing the sling of her purse carelessly over her shoulder as she comes to me. Sitting up straight, I wipe my features clean of any dark thoughts and concentrate on her lightness.

She flashes me a small smile and a little wave as she shouts over the noise, “Goodbye, Viktor. Thank you for earlier.”

I can’t help but stare into her eyes. I may seem like a stalker but it’s like getting lost in a sea of blue and I can’t help myself.

“Have a good evening, Elaina.” I keep it formal, not acknowledging her thanks. She should just forget what happened. I run the Bratva. That was peas compared to what I normally deal with. She doesn’t seem to realize I would do so much more for her if she were to ask.

She gives me a shaky smile and heads toward the door to the club. I gesture to Spartak who’s been watching me closely, waiting for the signal. I nod toward her and he quickly follows.

Spartak will trail her home to her crappy little apartment and make sure she is safe. It’ll be his job to park outside her building and keep watch. Spar’s her unofficial guard. I know it’s not a practical thing to have my men do, but it’s a new requirement of them and no one ever said I was reasonable.

I leave to go home too because if she’s not at the club then I don’t want to be there either. I live close to Tate, in the same gated community. My house is tan with decorative landscaping.

When I bought my home, Mishka came over right away with a list of plants she wanted. The guards went and picked up everything she asked for. That crazy, old woman came and worked in the yard for a week straight. It looks beautiful, but I’m just thankful I only have to worry about the sprinkler being on and nothing else.

Tate’s backyard is absurd. Mishka and Emily are always changing it up and planting new flowers everywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if my little brother fattens up with all the cooking Mishka is teaching Emily.

On the plus side, I can visit now and eat a good dinner. My brother and I can cook fairly well, but we always just grill at night. Mishka will make delicious old Russian recipes.

Thankfully the trip is short. My house is only about ten minutes from the club. I love my sporty James Bond type cars parked in the garage, but I’m too exhausted to really enjoy them today.

Running a bunch of criminals makes you age inside quickly and my uncle has always told me to drive a car you love. He says we have too many things to worry about, that we need to have something we can enjoy in the small amount of free time we have.

I pull my black Mercedes-AMG GT S into my three car garage, next to my Jaguar. My Mercedes purrs like a pleased kitten, enjoying the attention, but god do I love my Jaguar. My Jag doesn’t purr, no, she growls when I give her gas. Maybe I’ll take her for a drive after I rest for a while.

I’m greeted by a silent house and it’s refreshing. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes tightly for a moment and breathe in the clean air.
Ahh.
That’s nice after the noisy club for the past five hours.