Unwanted Sacrifices (Russkaya Mafiya Book 3) (5 page)

I too have a tattoo like it. Mine is done with quality while I’m positive his was done in prison. We both share the classic Russian sign of a hired killer. Only I’m not some thug on the streets; I’m contracted by the most respected branch of Mafiya in Russia. Many years of training and precise kills earned me my dagger along with the large spider tattooed on one of my shoulders.

Kolya approaches his car waiting at the curb and his head lines up perfectly in my sights. He’s just far enough away, that the bodyguard isn’t blocking my shot. I must do this to protect my Bina.

This will make my twenty-sixth kill with this weapon alone.  That doesn’t include any others that I have killed with my bare hands, let alone another type of firearm. I’ve grown accustomed to this choice of weapon. Call me lazy, but I like to sit back and watch the enemy come to me.

Rapidly I think over my checklist, making sure I’m not leaving anything out. I let loose a soft breath and right as my finger is about to lightly tap the trigger, my business cell that’s strictly for Tate and Sabrina rings. Glancing down briefly at the cell phone resting beside me, Tate’s name flashes across the screen.
I’ll call him back
in twenty minutes when my task is fulfilled and I’m back in my truck.

My gaze jumps to the scope again, only Kolya is no longer there. I use the sight to scan over the whole front of the restaurant and nothing. The trash has loaded up and left as if his ass were on fire. The older Italian is still there on the curb, waiting for what, I haven’t the slightest idea. Sabrina’s father and the other mobster Italian have left as well.

My fingers itch to just let go and pull that small trigger back.

Cursing loudly, I snatch up my phone and dial Tate right away. I no longer have to worry about making a quick, quiet exit. “Da?” I say a little too loudly when he answers.

“Nikoli! Where are you?”

Shit, I didn’t tell him that I was going to be out doing this today. We discussed Bina’s issues and all the talk surrounding her about the fake marriage, but I didn’t call him about this.

“I’m near a restaurant, is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine. Emily had a great time with Sabrina and Elaina, so I want to have you and Viktor bring the girls over for dinner tonight.”

“It would be safer for you and Emily to come to the cabin.”

“Niko, no one’s going to hurt Sabrina. Not only does she have you protecting her, but she has Viktor, myself, and a handful of guards.”

I’m grateful knowing I have such a loyal friend who would put himself in danger for a woman I care deeply for. However, Alexei told me that Sabrina’s father keeps calling for her. Lexi’s redirected any calls made from Kristof to not reach the landline thankfully, so Sabrina hasn’t a clue about them. Hopefully it will stay that way; I’d hate to argue with her over her pathetic excuse of a father.

“Thank you. Your words mean more than you know.”

“I’m serious about it; you would do the same for us. So, any updates on the douche who keeps saying he’s married to her?”

Grumbling, I let the truth loose. “I’m sort of here where he eats. I was planning to eliminate the issue altogether; your call distracted me and now the trash has left.”

“Fuck, Niko! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped you more if I knew it was this serious.”

“Nyet, Tate. You worry about your Emily. This was no problem, so I take care of it.” My accent gets heavier as I try to talk faster without thinking out my words. Every time I get angry or flustered it comes out as well.

“It’s a problem if you’re there and about to shoot the dude. Does Viktor know about this?”

“He knows I was going to check out the threat and possibly acquire him if it was an option.”

“Goddamn it! I can’t believe you two left me out of the loop like this. I don’t like it. We don’t know what sort of repercussions this could have on everyone if you do take him out. You’re blinded by Sabrina as you’ve always been to see any possible consequences.”

Shit! He’s completely right. I didn’t even stop to think how this could possibly affect him and Emily if word was to get out that the hit came from the Mafiya.

They wouldn’t bat an eye if it came from Viktor and the Bratva since he’s the one who was granted permission to have Sabrina in the first place. It would almost be expected for him to take care of any loose lips. I’m quickly learning that she clouds my judgment on things. I would have thought this through much more clearly if it was another job, but instead I’m too focused on seeking revenge.

“There’s a few old pasta eaters here meeting with Kolya and Kristof.”

“Are you fucking with me? What do they want with them? Send me a pic.”

Snapping a photo, I blue tooth the image of the remaining man to my cell and text it to Tate. Today’s technology works amazing in situations like this.

Tate curses angrily; it’s so loud I almost drop the phone.

“Da?”

“Eliminate him, Nikoli.”

“What did the old Mobster do?”

“He’s a Boss associated with the crew that recently tried torching one of the dock properties. They’re trying to push me out so they can store their containers by Vik’s warehouse.”

“Fuck! This is why I should be with you, not being a bitch for Viktor!” I grumble angrily and drop the phone. I check the chamber again out of habit, lining up the sight, and breathe out deeply.

The gun pushes into my shoulder slightly, but not too much as I’m a big guy, and I watch through my scope as the older man drops, dead weight, a perfect shot through his skull.

Fucking Italian Mob, always messing with us.

Afterwards, I pack up my weapon, the extra ammo, not that I was expecting to need any extra, but I always set it beside me just in case. You never know how a hit may turn out.

Growling, I can’t stop myself from picking up the cell and yelling at my Boss, “Damn it! You must keep me informed! You are my best friend!”

“I get it Niko, I’ll update you, but you’re in the wrong here, you should have contacted me. It sucks being out of the loop, huh?”

“I apologize, Boss; next time I will be sure to speak with you prior.” Hell yes, it sucks. I can’t stand not being around him, handling everything. I can’t believe he didn’t inform me about the fire. Looks like we’ve both been holding back.

“Good. I’ll do some research on my side. Send a few of the guys to feel it out and if nothing major will come back to bite us in the ass then we schedule the termination on Kolya, along with any others who may impose a threat, okay? This is just a little trickier due to them being Russian and having ties with my father. It’s not just random Italian mobsters we plan to kill you know.”

“Da.”

“Do I need to send out for a clean-up? I can call Viktor if you want.”

“No, I say let it hit the papers; if anything, the FEDS will be happy to have one less pasta eater around.”

“Very good, I agree with you. Get out of there and take care of yourself. I miss having you around.”

“I will. Hopefully I’ll be back soon and thank you.”

“No problem. Later, man.”

“Later.”

Slipping my phone into my pocket, I shoulder the strap for the small duffle bag carrying all of my gear back to my truck. I have a special compartment built into the backseat of my truck to hold everything nicely in case I ever need it when I’m out and about. You never know when an opportunity may present itself, and it’s imperative to always be prepared.

Shit, I never gave Tate an answer on dinner, but he should understand now that I’ve told him what I’ve been up to. He and Emily need to just come out to the cabin instead. I love the remote location of Viktor’s place. The lake and mountains offer us just the right amount of privacy we require. When I’m not there, I live with Tate at his house so I can always protect him when needed.

If everything turns out good with Bina, I’m going to have to speak to Tate about moving out. I would love a place close to Viktor’s if possible, but that’s too far away I’m afraid. I wonder if Tate would consider moving out closer to Viktor also? That could end up working out in everyone’s best interest actually.

After our conversation I feel like a kid who just got caught stealing cookies and I hate it. I shouldn’t feel guilty about not telling my friend before coming here, but I do. I never thought it would bother him if I worked on something with his brother, but then I would get pissed sometimes also when Tate would go off with our old friend Cameron. They’re friendship always had me a little uneasy. They were close for so long, but Cameron ended up being a two-faced trader and I dumped him in the lake with Viktor’s assistance.

The complicated part of the hit’s over with now, but it’s probably best if I make a quick drive through the parking garage next to the restaurant. I need to make sure there aren’t twenty Italians down there ready to shoot everyone in sight now that their Boss is dead.

The lights on my truck automatically switch on once I get in the dark parking area and it’s easy to pick out where the mobsters are waiting. With the normal steroided-out, tan, Guido-looking guy standing guard at the car, he pretty much gives them away. There’s a second thug trolling through the parking lot; more than likely his back up.

Creeping my truck along at a slow pace, I notice a tiny black haired lady perched down next to a Chevrolet Impala a few spaces away from the guy making his rounds. She looks scared out of her mind, hiding.

I press the button on my arm rest and roll my electric window down, attempting to talk softly, “Pssst…Miss, come here!”

She turns to me, eyes as big as saucers and shakes her head erratically.

“Yes! Come, jump in and I keep you safe.”

She swallows, takes a deep breath and lunges for my truck. Once she’s inside with the door slammed, not so quietly, I hightail it out of there. She’s nuts to close the door so damn loudly. We’ll be lucky if no one chases after us, wanting our heads for snooping around their business meetings.

“M-my goodness, thank you!”

“It is of no problem.” My accent plays heavily, probably making me sound more like a vampire excited about a snack than a Russian hit man. “What is your name?”

“My name is Anna. I work for channel seven news. I got separated from my cameraman and his van; I was hiding because there was a gunshot.” She rambles and digs out a small recording device from her bag, showing it to me. “Did you, sir, hear the gunshot that just rang out on Gibson Street at approximately twelve oh three p.m.?”

“Turn the device off, Anna, and put it away. You look inquisitive, not stupid.”

She nods her head; eyes large again and shoves the device into her purse after turning it off.

“Did you hear those men in the garage speak of anything?”

“No, they just said to check on their Boss to another guy who left the garage before you showed up. Once I heard the shot, I dropped and was too scared to stand back up. I wanted to get the story, but I have a feeling those aren’t the type of men I want to see me. There was actually a big group of guys in the garage a little while before I heard the shot—when I first parked.”

I bet the guys were Kolya, Kristof, and the other Italian guards or drivers all waiting around. I should have known they wouldn’t show up for lunch without a small army on standby.

“You have good instinct. You forget my face and vehicle; I will drop you a block away so you can wait for the police and be safe. There is one thing I want from you, however.”

“Umm, okay, I can see what I can do within reason.”

“Your story, it must be titled ‘Vengeance is served with Vodka.’”

“I’m not sure I can get that approved. You’re telling me, that this is a Russian job?”

“I didn’t say that, I said use it as a title. I need to get a message to someone. They will know what it means. Surely you can’t think I am stupid to believe you have no power to choose the title. Be smart right now.”

“Fine, but can you at least give me the name of who was shot?”

“No, but I can tell you he was an old Italian Mobster.”

“Holy shit…The Russians
and
the Italians?”

“This is your stop, Anna.” I pull the truck to a stop and click a photo of her with my phone. “Don’t make me regret this.” I wave it in front of her.

“You’ve helped me more than you realize. No worries on my part.” She sends me a shaky smile and hurries out of the truck.
I sure hope not; I’d hate to have to kill someone with such a pretty face.

I pull away quickly so she can’t get a good picture if she decides to suddenly be brave. That should work nicely to get our threat out. They need to stop fucking with the Mafiya, because we always clean up our messes.

My phone chirps with a text from my good friend Avery.

Avery:
Taco Tuesday big guy, wish you were here!

Me:
Tell biker bitch he sucks and I wish you were here too Bean

Avery:
Come visit, Texas misses you also.

Her text sends a small pang to my chest. I worry about her sometimes now that she’s moved to Texas to be with her motorcycle club boyfriend. I know he can protect her, but Avery and I had gotten very close before she up and moved sixteen hours away.

Shaking it off, I toss my phone into the center console. Texting and driving don’t mix, especially since these Americans drive on the opposite sides of the roads as we do in Russia. Total mindfuck the first time I tried driving here.

During the few hours it takes to drive back to the cabin, I’m engrossed in my thoughts about what to do about moving, Tate, and the damn Italians. I made a quick stop at the tattoo parlor I frequent—another kill means another mark for me to wear.

Twenty-six drops of blood tattooed across my abdomen make me look as if my stomach is torn open and weeping tears of blood. Those tears of blood to me are for my mother; one day I’ll find who tore my family apart.

SABRINA