Page 38 of Hating the Bratva

Alek

Once her breathing evens out, I slip from under the covers and pull my clothes back on. The sun has completely gone down, and the only light from outside the windows comes from the tall buildings surrounding the hotel. We’re not far from the beach. I’ll have to take Delaney before leaving tomorrow.

One night is long enough to stay in a city I’m not supposed to be in. I’ve never gone against Gavril’s direct orders, but he betrayed me the moment he promised Delaney to Ivan, so I don’t give a fuck. I tuck a handgun in my jeans’ waistband even though I know it will be taken as soon as I walk into Bratva territory. I’ve haven’t given the Miami brotherhood any warning about my arrival. I couldn’t chance someone tracing my calls. I’m going in entirely empty-handed. No one knows where we are, and if things go south tonight, I’d be shit out of luck.

Gavril will use me as a perfect example of what happens when people don’t follow his orders, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take to free Delaney. I take the elevator down to the lobby and walk out the front door. The streets are busy with tourists walking from bar to bar. I take a right and follow the sidewalk. I picked this hotel because it’s close to the Miami brotherhood’s meeting location. They had a meeting scheduled an hour ago in the basement of one of their dry cleaning operations. I’m hoping to catch the end of it. Being in charge of security and intelligence pays off sometimes. The foot traffic slows when I turn another corner. There aren’t any bars on this stretch of road, just a few small food joints and the dry cleaning business.

I cross an empty piece of land to the back alleyway of the dry cleaning business. There’s a man standing at the back door. He’s dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a button-down shirt. I don’t recognize him, so he must be a Six, an associate who does the dirty work before he can move up in rank.

“Are you lost?” he asks me as I approach.

“No, at all. I need to see Romen.” I shove my hands in my pockets and stop a few feet in front of the guy. We’re about the same size, but he’s a few years older than me. He looks me over, taking in my jeans and T-shirt. I pull the collar of my shirt down enough so he can see the stars that decorate my chest. “Boston brotherhood.”

The man’s eyebrows furrow together, and he takes a step toward me. “You got a lot of nerve coming here.”

His hand moves to his waistband, but I’m faster. I snatch my pistol from the holster and crowd the man’s space. I keep the gun leveled directly with his forehead as I fist his shirt with my other hand. I was hoping it wouldn’t be this difficult to meet with the Miami Pakhan, but it’s obvious they’re out for blood. Ivan really fucked over the entire Boston brotherhood this time. The man’s face turns red with rage.

“You’re a dead motherfucker.”

“Yeah, yeah. Call for your Pakhan. I know he’s inside.”

He looks like he wants to take a swing at me, but that would be stupid. He’s not in a position of power, and I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger on this low-ranking Bratva member.

“Hey, Romen!” he calls. “Can you get out here?”

The meeting must be taking place right on the other side of the door because it’s not long before twenty men come pouring out of the laundry mat with guns drawn. No one makes a move as the last man walks outside: Romen, Pakhan of the Miami brotherhood. A long scar runs down the side of his face, and from what I’ve heard, his journey to the position of Pakhan was not easy.

“You have some nerve, no?”

I release my hold on the Six and tuck my gun back into the holster. “I just came to talk.”

“Why would I want to talk with someone from the Boston brotherhood when I could just kill you?” Romen spits. His Russian accent is thick.

“Because I have something you want.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Ivan.”

He glares at me but doesn’t say anything. He looks to the Six in front of me.

“Take his weapon.”

Fuck. I put my hands up as the man yanks my pistol out of the holster.

“Now we can talk.”

*****

“What time do we have to leave?” Delaney asks as we walk back to the spot where we’d set out two beach towels.

“We have a couple of hours,” I say, reaching down to grab my phone out of my pants, which lie forgotten in the sand. As soon as Delaney woke up, she was adamant about going to the beach before we left. I didn’t tell her where I went last night, but I have a feeling that she knows I left.

She hasn’t asked me what I’ve come down here to do, so I’m sure she noticed my absence last night. Maybe my talk with her yesterday paid off. With the life we live, it’s always better if women don’t ask questions. My phone vibrates, and Mikhail’s name flashes across the screen.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, turning away from her to walk a few feet away.

“Hello?” I answer once I’m out of earshot.

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