Page 94 of Vicious Devotion

“Grigori is busy.”

I grit my teeth, tilting my head up just enough to see the stocky, white-blond man standing a foot from the chair with his arms crossed over his hard-muscled chest. He’s dressed to the nines as always, wearing a tailored dark suit and glossy dress shoes, tattoos climbing out of the sleeves and collar to wind over his hands and up his neck. His ice-blue eyes are flat and humorless.

I think I got my sense of humor from my mother. God knows neither my father, nor my three siblings’ mother ever had one.

“There are plenty of men who can do what you need me to do.” I’m staying vague, because Alice, my tattoo artist, doesn’t need to know exactly what I often get my hands dirty doing. I think she suspects, given what she knows of my background, but I don’t need to make it crystal clear for her. She might stop tattooing me, and she’s the best artist I’ve ever met.

She’s also good at a lot of other things, although we quit fooling around a few years ago.

“And I’m telling you that I need you to come with me.” Lev’s face doesn’t so much as twitch. “Or should I tell your father that spending time with your tattoo artist took precedence over family business?”

The way he emphasizes Alice in the sentence, the way his gaze flicks to her with just a hint of the icy threat that I know all too well, is what gets me to give in. I’ll fight my brother on his bullshit all day, but I’m not going to let someone innocent get caught up in the violent mess that is my family.

“Fine.” I twist my head around to look at Alice. “I need to call a raincheck on this. Can you cover me up and we finish tomorrow, maybe?”

“I’m booked until next week.” The buzzing stops, and she sits back. “But I’ll figure out where I can pencil you in.”

“Thanks, dorogoy.” I say it quietly, and she shoots me a look as she pumps green soap onto a paper towel and wipes it over my half-outlined tattoo. The sting makes me suck in a breath, but it’s welcome.

“One day, I’m going to put that in a translator.” She pats a bandage gently over the tattoo.

“You’d like it.” I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes. There’s a casual, friendly intimacy between us, the kind that only comes from knowing every inch of each other’s bodies over the course of a few months spent rolling in the sheets together, until we mutually decided it was better if we call it quits. Now, we’re good buddies.

Sometimes I do think she digs the needle in a little harder than she has to, though.

“You know the drill.” She nods at the tattoo. “I’ll text you with the next time you can come in.”

“Sounds good.” I glare at my brother. “Well? Let’s fucking go, then.”

He leads me out to the blacked-out Escalade waiting at the curb, sliding inside without a word. I follow, leaning my head back against the cool leather as I try to get my head in the right place for what I know is about to happen.

There’s only one reason for us to be going to the warehouse, and it’s going to end with me washing blood out of the crevices of my fingers later tonight.

It’s not unusual for me to be called on for something like this. I’m one of my father’s enforcers, but I’m not a grunt. Which means if Lev is demanding I go with him to take care of whoever it is that they have down there, there’s only two possibilities.

It’s someone who requires a certain special touch, someone they want good information from—or Lev wants to watch me, and see my reaction to whatever this man has to say.

There’s not a lot of trust in my family, and no love. Loyalty, though, is expected. I’m not supposed to have the side jobs that pad my bank account. I should be entirely reliant on my family, even if my father only tolerates me and my brothers hate me.

Fuck that. I’m not going to allow my life to be ruled by people who want to see me fall. I’ve always relied on myself whenever I can, and I intend to keep it that way.

Regardless, this world that I live in is cutthroat—survival of the fittest at its finest. I can guess all fucking day at the reasons for Lev’s demands, but when it comes down to it, the only thing that really matters is that I don’t let him see me flinch.

No matter what.

The SUV pulls up near the warehouse. It’s a shabby-looking structure, one that no one would think twice about looking at. The kind of place that is just assumed to be barely standing, owned for the value of the land underneath it and nothing else. Which makes it a perfect spot for ‘questioning’ anyone who gets on the wrong side of my family.

Unlike a lot of the Bratva enforcers and soldiers, I don’t get a lot of pleasure out of violence. There’s a certain satisfaction to torture well done, to keeping someone alive long enough to get the information desired, making sure they spill their guts in exactly the way that I need them to. But I don’t like hurting others in this way. I’m not a sadist.

At least—not this kind.

“You want to fill me in?” I ask as Lev and I get out of the car. He grunts, and for a moment, I think he’s going to let me go in blind. But then he nods.

“Lower-level guy. I don’t even know his fucking name, honestly. He was supposed to help run interference for the last shipment of women. Keep a lookout for any feds or anyone else coming in. He didn’t do a very good fucking job, since that shipment got busted. Three of our best guys pinched, and a bunch of pissed-off clients that aren’t going to get their girls. We think he tipped someone off.”

“You think he’s stupid enough to do that?”

Lev shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe someone got to him and scared him. At any rate, he probably sang before, and he’s gonna sing to you now. Let us know what happened, so we can dig out any other traitors and get this show back on the road.”

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