Page 63 of Ruthless Reign

“The short version is that Sergey, the younger Zhukov, has been stepping up to assert his control in St. Petersburg while Nikolai was in jail. He’s been fighting gangs for larger territories and monopolizing the illegal arms trade in the city. He’s got balls, but he’s rash. It’s the kind of shit that could easily spiral into a full-scale gang war."

“And the brother?”

“Word is that Nikolai’s the brain and Sergey the brawn. Now that Nikolai is free and stepping back into his role as pakhan, there's definitely tension between the brothers.”

“A power struggle always keeps things interesting,” I comment. “Maybe that’s why Nikolai wasn’t at the midnight meeting with Anatoly, why it was only Sergey. Any more intel about that meeting?”

Viktor releases a frustrated sound. “Not yet. His inner circle is tight. No one’s talking.”

“Keep digging. Whatever business they have with Anatoly doesn’t sit right.” I frown, watching my men methodically go through each container. “I’m still suspicious about the delay of our last shipment.”

Viktor huffs out a laugh like maybe he thinks I’ve lost the plot. “Everything was in order; none of the goods were tampered with.” He shrugs. “I’m not saying the man’s a saint, but delays because of bad weather are common in the middle of winter.”

“That might be true, but I know what my gut is telling me.” I flash him a devious grin. “And I found a way to get some answers.”

“Which is?” He pulls the beanie lower on his head and blows a breath into his hands.

“To use my body and charm to get what I want.”

Viktor groans, but I’m not entirely kidding.

“You and your fucking plans,” he grumbles. “What do you have in mind?”

“We only see the shipping logs that Anatoly’s team sends us. Well, I have an insider at the company who will send us the originals. No questions asked.”

“What's the catch?”

“I have to go on a date with Katerina Petrovich.” I grit my teeth. “To the opera.”

Viktor drags a knuckle over his jaw. “Seriously? You at the opera? I don’t see it.”

“Yeah, well, we all have to make sacrifices from time to time.”

Katerina has been sending me flirty texts since the night we met at the Ivanovs’ dinner party. I’ve been ignoring them, having absolutely no interest in her, but recently it occurred to me how short-sighted I’ve been. Katerina works in the family business—she has access to all sorts of company information.

So I made her a deal. I told her I’d misplaced the shipping logs that we had been sent and felt like too much of a dumbass to ask Anatoly’s men to resend. She agreed to send me copies of whatever I wanted if I take her to Carmen at the Bolshoi this weekend. God help me.

Viktor shakes his head but can’t suppress his amused grin. “You sure that's a good plan? Katerina might get the wrong idea.”

“Nah, she doesn't care about getting serious. She just wants to be seen on my arm and fuck a man with bratva tattoos.” Not that I’ll be fucking her.

In fact, the one bright spot in all of this is that Liza will be at the opera with Anatoly. I don’t mind one bit if she feels a sting of jealousy seeing me with another woman.

Viktor winks and thumps me on the back. “I wish you luck.” His smile drops as something in the distance catches his eye. “What the fuck is that?”

We both squint into the night and spot a dark van with no license plates rolling quietly through the shadows of the shipping containers. “An uninvited guest.”

In a matter of seconds, I’ve reached into my waistband. My gun aimed, I shoot at the van, the crack of gunfire echoing across the port.

The van lurches but then suddenly revs its engine, barreling forward. The side door slides open, revealing men in balaclavas who open fire on our operations.

“Fuck, it’s an ambush!” I shout as our men catch on to the action, drawing their weapons and returning fire.

We sprint down the ship’s stairs, our boots clanging on the metal. Bullets fly in both directions. One of our guys goes down, clutching his shoulder.

The van door slams shut and the van peels off, tires screeching as it races toward the gate. Shots ring out as our men continue to fire, but the van crashes through the gate, metal crumpling and splintering under the force.

Viktor curses, slamming his fist into a crate as we watch the taillights fade into the distance.

---