Page 75 of Brutal Savage

Konstantin Marinov runs the Bratva. He’s unhinged, and so are his remaining brothers, Aleksei, Anton, and Kirill.

We know the kind of shit they’ve done, ripping people apart with their teeth.

Their father, Sergey, was the worst of them. He was the one who killed our mother.

Her screams as her body burned alive still haunt me, and it’s been about fourteen years since it happened.

He did it all because he and my father had a dispute over property. My mother was just revenge. Then my father killed one of his sons. Blood was spilled on both sides until Konstantin made a truce and banished his father, who returned to Russia.

But three years after that, he came for Iseult.

My blood simmers remembering how she looked after she escaped. Bloody and bruised, but in her face was the fury she still carries.

She took one of his eyes before she escaped, and the bastard just wouldn’t go away.

He came after Eriu not long ago, and that was the nail in his coffin. Now he’s rotting in the ground.

We’ve existed with the Russians without any war for a long time, and we’d all like to keep it that way. Yet if the need comes, we will be ready. We always are.

My cell rings, and I answer it when I see it’s one of my men. “Yeah?”

“They’re here.”

“Send them in.”

My brothers sit up straighter.

From the distance, heavy footfalls pound closer until the door opens and Konstantin walks in first.

“Konstantin.” I rise, and my brothers follow.

I slap his hand with mine, all of us greeting one another. He’s damn huge, probably over six-seven. Big bastard with an even bigger ego.

“Please sit down,” I tell them as they move toward the two unoccupied leather sofas while my brothers take the other. “Thanks for coming. I know it’s a trip for you.”

“Eh.” Konstantin waves off the concern, his accent heavy. “We took my jet. Was a quick ride.”

Of course he did. He’s in New Jersey. Would be too long to drive.

The thought instantly makes me think of Elara and the number for DK that I found. She gave a reasonable explanation of who he is, and that could all be true, but I have a feeling there’s a lot more to it. Once we’re married, she will tell me everything.

“How about we get down to business?” Konstantin’s voice snaps me back to the present.

He leans back against the leather, his dark, cunning eyes assessing me.

Aleksei leans forward, running a hand through his black hair. “We have the supplies and the means to get them here to the States.” His accent as thick as his brother’s. In fact, they all have it. “We just need to know you’re good with the asking price.”

“What’s that?”

The Russians don’t negotiate. The price is the price. And we need their weapons.

“Three million.”

It’s not unreasonable.

“Ammunition?”

“Everything, my friend.” Konstantin’s mouth twitches. “Five hundred companions.”

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