Page 37 of Tangled Vows

“We’ll find out before I cut his fucking head off,” I retort, annoyed that my own brother prefers war over taking care of just one man. “Look, why are you acting like this?”

He whips his head around at my question. “Because they tried to kill you once and failed! They’ll try again if we don’t step in. Don’t you get it?”

“You mean they’ll try to kill me and Clare,” I correct him, maintaining my composure.

“Yes,” he admits with a stiff nod. “I thought you’d back me up on this.”

“I would if a war made sense,” I say as we reach the end of the stairs. “Viktor is right, Ivan. If we go after the guy that tried to have me killed, no one else will have to suffer. Let’s face it, the Italians have the numbers and the skill to cause us some serious damage. Do you want to see the Bratva on its knees?”

“Of course not,” he says, opening his umbrella over his head. “Sorry if I overreacted, Leonid. I just want what’s best for you.”

“And Clare,” I tease him, giving him an elbow jab. “That makes two of us.”

He chuckles, heading away from me. I might appreciate his passion to eradicate our enemies, but it’s this quality that can screw with his head sometimes. Ivan just isn’t thinking straight in this case. The notion of taking on the Italian mafia doesn’t scare him, but it should. They’ve been around longer than us. They’re well connected and powerful. I know they’ll give us hell if we go after even one family. Soon, we’d be counting our casualties. I don’t want my brothers to end up in body bags, especially not Ivan Petrov.

Clare

This brute can transform into a caring, generous man in bed.

I was under this impression after my first encounter with Ivan. I was in a haze that night, caught in a cloud of passion and lust. Between my fierce desire to be claimed by them and the realization of my most daring fantasy, I wasn’t in a position to draw conclusions.

I was all alone with him, caressed by him, the breeze, and the scent of the sea. What a glorious combination. Having a huge man touch me where it mattered, paying attention to my erogenous zones, all the while enjoying the coolness of the night by the sea. I rode him hard, facing the water, keeping his rock-hard shaft in my depths until we were both utterly spent. Last night was an experience I know I will cherish in the years to come.

Or will I?

Ivan was quite elusive when I asked him what had been troubling him. He lived up to the nickname I gave him earlier. Mr. Mysterious wouldn’t reveal the latest development that had clearly upset him. Still, as much as I respected his wish to keep this to himself, just twelve hours later, I regret my decision not to force the issue. Leonid and Ivan are seasoned members of the Bratva. They must have witnessed brutality and horror beyond my wildest nightmares. It would take something special for Ivan to become so agitated. Without his help, I just can’t put my finger on what.

Out in the front yard on that sunny morning, I don’t have much choice but to ask Yuri. I know it’s a long shot, but without knowing when Leonid will come back, I go ahead and ask him.

“Ivan mentioned something about a complication last night. Do you happen to know more?”

His eyebrows shoot up as he looks away for a moment, his posture tightening. “All I know is that the Armenians were not behind the car bombing,” he responds, looking down into my eyes.

“All you know? Or all you can tell me?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“If Ivan didn’t tell you anything more, this means I’m not allowed to reveal more.”

Wow... I’m shocked. Secrecy within the Bratva? That must be a first.

Then again, I can’t blame Yuri. He’s just following orders. He’s not going to do anything that could—and probably would—aggravate his boss. I dismiss him with a nod, diving back into my thoughts.

Alas, it doesn’t take long for me to hit a dead end. This complication could be pretty much anything. My men could be facing an entire army of aliens for all I know. This uncertainty gnaws at me. It’s going to take a lot of effort on my part to avoid speculating. Even worse is the sense of helplessness that threatens to consume me. I’m no soldier. I can’t assist them in any way. All I can do is hope that they’ll survive whatever’s coming their way.

Chapter Eighteen

Leonid

In the days that follow our meeting with Viktor, Ivan got to see just how wrong a war with an Italian family would be.

Back on my boss’s boat, he had no idea about them. He just knew that our territories would not overlap due to the agreement between the Bratva and the mafia. This meant that we would not cross paths on the street. He’s now realizing how that would make all of our lives more difficult.

Every day, reports come in from our men. They document the size and complexity of the Pistone family, which is just one of the sixteen families in Florida alone. Owning twenty percent of the Italian restaurants in Miami beach—including Giorgio’s in Little Italy—they use them as a front for their illegal enterprises.

The Pistone’s specialize in racketeering, loan sharking, dealing expensive drugs like cocaine and cheaper ones like crystal meth. They have easily more than three hundred foot soldiers. That number is dangerously close to ours. So, if they asked just one more family to help them out, we would be neck-deep in shit.

The Italians are known to be efficient and tenacious. I’d hate to be outnumbered two to one against experienced henchmen. I don’t even want to think about what would happen if three or more families decided to come after us.

Four days later, we have the information we need.

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