Page 42 of Claimed By the Bratva Brothers

“Wait, a minute. Let me get this straight,” Max begins. “Circle back to that algorithm of yours, because I’m curious. You said it gives you possible scenarios of how events might turn out based on the information that you feed into it, right?”

“Right.”

Artur glances behind us. I follow his gaze. “We have a tail,” he says. “Grey sedan, two cars back, second lane.”

“What do we do?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about it,” Max says. “We have nothing to hide. They’re desperate to find something, so they’ve been keeping a detail on us twenty-four-seven. Lyric, the algorithm, talk to me.”

“That’s pretty much it. I’ve spent years developing it. I started my junior year of high school and it’s been advancing ever since. The clearer the parameters, the more information I can feed it, the more accurate the predictions.”

“Could you apply it in a situation where a certain organization is looking to shift gears and change its business model altogether?”

I give Artur a wry smile. “For the Bratva, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“It could definitely have an application there, yes,” I answer. “I would need a lot of information though. And it would take weeks to build a viable set of future models. But yes.”

“Could it help us spot potential situations? Say, traitorous associates, FBI raids, that kind of thing?”

I nod. “Anything law enforcement related would need a ton of details such as arrest records, warrants, a thorough history of yours and your predecessors’ activities, etc. But again, yes. It’s doable. I need more research and more years to develop it, but I’m sure I can pull off a level of accuracy never seen before.”

“This feels like something out of a sci-fi movie,” Max mumbles.

“I guess it kind of is. But sixty years ago, robots were the stuff of sci-fi movies, and yet here we are,” I reply.

“We got ourselves one hell of a woman, fellas,” Ivan cuts in, giving me a playful wink. “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?”

We reach a side of Chicago I’ve not seen in a while. It’s one of the most affluent parts of the city, with high rents and an even higher cost of living. I know this because I was originally interested in moving here after I finished high school. I had yet to make my money though, and I was on a slightly tighter budget at the time.

It’s a nice area, clean and quiet, with a string of coffee shops and fro-yo cafes on every corner.

As we get out of Max’s SUV, I look around. “Do we still have a tail?”

“No, it’s why we took the tunnel,” Max replies. “They were expecting us to go straight ahead but we lost them when we turned.”

A massive luxury apartment building towers to my right, its front façade made of white marble and steel, mirrored glass, and open terraces. “What is this place?”

“We have a penthouse here,” Max points upward at the high-rise. “I figured we could all use some peace and quiet for a couple of days. They’ll have eyes on the mansion for sure.”

“The boys are keeping an eye on the place,” Artur reminds him. “But I would imagine the Feds have run out of bogus warrants by now. We should be able to enjoy a respite for at least a week before they find somethingelse to pick on.”

I follow them into the building and past the polite and impeccably dressed doorman, then into a large, round elevator that takes us all the way up to the top floor. “How can you live like this?” I ask in a low voice. “Constantly dealing with this kind of harassment. Because that’s what it is. Harassment.”

“We brought this on ourselves the minute we decided to stop funding local corruption,” Max says, his brow furrowed. But the glances he gives me are soft, almost spicy, in their intensity. “It’s the price of trying to do better than our father and the men who came before us.”

My heart skips a beat when Ivan’s hand rests on the small of my back. Everything has been so tense and stressful up to this point, that I’d almost forgotten myself as a woman, if only for a minute or two. But now that I’m in this enclosed space with my men, the elevator working its way up, I’m bombarded by lustful sensations as I quickly begin to realize where we’re headed.

Their penthouse.

Their bedroom. Oh, God, I’d missed this.

“You’re doing the right thing,” I look at Max. “You said it yourself. How many people are willing to go through hellfire for that?”

“Few. Very few.”

“Thank you, Lyric,” Ivan says, then pulls me closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and planting a soft kiss on my temple. “I didn’t see you coming, but I’m glad you took this chance.”

---