Page 50 of Half Cocked

“If it has anything to do with those masked fuckers—” I started, and she quickly cut me off.

“How much do you know about the Bratva?” Dani’s lips were curling into a grin while mine were pressed thin and tight.

“The Russian mob?” Zeke choked out while I responded with, “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

52

Nikolai Volkov.The Russian Wolf. Heard my pops mention the name more than once. The current leader of the Bratva. A man known for his ruthlessness and loyalty to no one but himself,hispeople,hisbloodline. And certainly not the Italians.

Yeah, I was desperate. But the fucker had the sort of weaponry I needed. Handguns, long-range rifles, explosives. No, no one had that shit on such short notice. No one but the Russians. Export laws were much more lenient in their parts. Fuckers didn’t have to deal with all the red tape neither.

Guy didn’t know me. But he knew my last name and I knew he was champing at the bit to get his hooks in Chicago. A fact I planned to use to my advantage.

Truth was, the coasts were owned by the Italians while the midlands bounced between Irish hands ever since my father was decommissioned. A nice way of saying dead and buried. Which meant my support meant something. Not much but something. It was all I had to give at the moment. And it was enough to get my foot in the door. Schedule me a little face-to-face with the guy behind all those threats my pops liked to dish out aboutmarrying me off to the Russians,if I didn’t start behaving real soon.Like that’d ever happen.

Wasn’t sure the meeting would get me much else. Didn’t hurt to try though, and the Bratva just happened to be local right now, likely sniffing out a weak spot before deciding if they wanted to make a move against the competition.

I flicked my gaze to the figure cursing under his breath beside me. Connor was radiating nervous energy, and I was instantly reminded how much he didn’t belong in this world.

It was his fault. Pretty boy insisted on tagging along. Normally I would have argued but it didn’t look good to come alone. The Russians were old school, even more than the Italians, so women weren’t worth more than the cunt between their legs. A wrong I would right when things settled down a bit. Until then, I needed to play the game. Pretend I had a man at my side. And it didn’t hurt that this particular man was an Irish nobody. Someone no one would recognize. Harsh but true. If Connor kept his mouth shut, we might have actually had a real chance at making a decent deal.

Knowing him, though, it was a big fuckingif.

“Let me do the talkin’.” I lowered my voice to a stern whisper as we were guided through the first set of doors, only to be stopped and searched before being escorted inside. Security was tight. Much fucking tighter than what I was used to with the Mulligans.

Connor growled when I was patted down, while I was just thankful that the Russian fucks missed the blade concealed by the underwire of my bra. Served them right for underestimating me.

Then again, I knew better than to bring a knife to a gunfight. My Kershaw wasn’t much more than a security blanket if push came to shove.

But I’d at least make someone bleed before I went down.

That thought had my top lip twitching when the man of the hour entered the high-end office space several minutes later. Nikolai Volkov was better looking than I would have imagined but I guess that was part of his charm. Pretty packaging that hid the monster lurking beneath. However, when his gaze skimmed my body from bottom to top, I couldn’t mask the shiver that traveled along with it.

There was something about his eyes, black not brown, that was unnerving. Like there was nothing behind them. No humanity. No soul. Just darkness.

I recognized darkness.

“Danica Rossi,” he hummed my name, tasted it, as a slow smirk curled his mouth at one side. “Let’s not waste time with pleasantries. We both know why you’re here. So why don’t you just tell me what the Bratva can do for you today?”

It wouldn’t be that easy. I knew that. And The Wolf knew I knew that. But these interactions were like a dance, a game of chess, and I only had one piece left on the board to play around with.

He sat. I remained standing. “Weapons, preferably heavy-duty artillery or explosives. Whatever you’re able to part with on short notice.”

I watched him watching me. Trying to figure me out without needing to do much else but look at me. “I can part with all of it. Or none of it. That’s all up to you,kotenok.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, more out of habit than intimidation, and flicked my eyes around the room. Looking at everything and nothing. There was no point in trying to pretend I had the upper hand when it was clear to everyone I didn’t.

“Somehow I doubt that, Mr. Volkov.” I pivoted on my heel to pin him with a glare.

“Please, call me Nikolai.” Even his voice was wolf-like in tone. How? I couldn’t explain it. But if you heard it, you’d knowwhat I meant. It sank under your skin, crawled up your spine and sat there. Pinching the back of your neck like a mother chastising an unruly pup.

Connor remained tight-lipped but I noted the way his posture stiffened, his jaw set tight as his eyes flicked between me and the only other predator in the room.

“Okay, Nikolai, keeping with the theme of not wasting time, what is it that you want? And before you ask, I’m a little short on cash at the moment.”

The Russian waved a dismissive hand. “Does it look like I need cash, Danica?”

I quirked a curious brow, a clear sign I wasn’t impressed, and urged him to get on with it. This slow dance was turning into a tango and I was ready for something a little more heart-thumping. “Enough with the subtext. What do you want?”

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