Page 49 of The Lazarov Bratva

Pocketing it, I find my phone and dial the best person I know for getting rid of a body.

My sister, Nastja.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Can you take some trash out for me?”

“Sure, I’m not busy,” she replies. “Where and when?”

I give her my address, requesting her services as soon as possible. She agrees and then hangs up.

Gun secure, I reach into the car and use the driver’s own limp hand to start up the car. From there, it’s easy to slowly wheel the limo down the slope and into my open garage with only a slight scrape to the paintwork. One of the perks of living so far away from the city is that no one will come looking for me anytime soon, so I have time.

Car secure, I turn my attention to the driver. Pushing him back in the seat, his skin is still warm to the touch as I check his pulse to confirm the kill. Then I hit the switch to close the garage and my clean-up begins.

With practiced ease, I spread out a large square of tarp and drag the driver’s body onto it. Checking his pockets, I take his wallet, keys, and phone to delete my messages to him. Facial recognition is easy to pass with him at my feet, and a quick search of his texts tells me there’s no one who’s going to be chasing up his disappearance anytime soon. It would be sad if I gave a shit.

Leaving his wallet and phone in the car's glove box, I’m halfway through wrapping the body up in tarp when the garage door whirrs into life and my sister, Nastja, strides in with her needlepoint heels clacking against the stone.

“Do I want to know?” she asks, coming to a stop a foot away.

“No.”

“Ivan wanted me to tell you he got Katja back home safely. No one suspects a thing.”

“Excellent.” I pant slightly with exertion as the final flap wraps over the driver’s head, sealing him away in a plastic coffin.

“Anyone suspicious?” I ask her.

“Everyone’s on high alert. Last I saw, they were running through interrogation of security and checking the perimeter, but no, she’s still missing. Mara was in bits when I saw her,” Nastja explains.

Thinking of Mara showing any kind of emotion makes me groan. She’s a seductive marble statue most times, and yet, I know her. She’ll milk her distress over Alena’s disappearance until it’s no longer of use to her.

“She won’t know loss until Aleksander kicks it,” I remark, tightening duct tape over the driver’s legs.

“You tell us not to question you, and I respect that, but this? This isn’t a great idea.”

I pause, tape in hand. “You don’t want to use tarp?”

Nastja rolls her dark-lined eyes. “No, idiot. Kidnapping the boss’s daughter? What are you thinking?”

I scoff with dry amusement and finish tying up the body, then I straighten up with a sigh.

“It’s for the best. She’s unhappy, I’m unhappy. I deserve this.”

“Does she really deserve you?” Nastja lifts one brow, and her dark lips pull into a slight smirk. “Or does she not know it yet?”

“She will,” I decide.

“As long as I do not have to attend a funeral because you were so desperate to get your dick wet,” Nastja says, her slight disapproval clear.

“There’s two paths here,” I say, irritation rising. I know she is teasing, and usually, I allow it, but Alena is in there and I crave to be back in her presence. “Yes, I want Alena, and the opportunity arose so I took her. I fucking deserve her after all the shit we’ve been through. If tonight is any indication, then she wants me too.”

“And you’d never let anyone else have her,” Nastja points out.

I nod. “But it comes with the benefit of testing Aleksander. His power has been waning ever since I took out the Petrovs, and I don’t want to be attached to a sinking ship. Not if there’s a chance I can helm it.”

“How do you work that out?”

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