Page 1 of The Brigadier

CHAPTER 1

Nikolay

“Allow me to make a suggestion you should listen to strongly, George. You got a fair deal. You own three lucrative businesses in my territory. Now, the Pakhan isn’t like other leaders. You’re barely taxed anything and that’s not just for some lousy protection but also for some financial advice. The truth is that the money offsets the private security we hire. But we don’t squabble about money, George. We are more concerned with quality and taking care of our people. But you should know we’re not getting rich off you. That has never been our intent. I suggest you get your head out of your ass and act a little more grateful.”

“Fuck you, Nikolay.”

The man had balls. I’d give him that.

“Be very careful, George. Very careful indeed.”

I ended the call while hissing, tossing my iPhone halfway across my desk. “Or you’ll be getting coal in your Christmas fucking stocking, moron.”

Danny Sinclair laughed as he shook his head. My Capo knew me better than most. Hell, we’d gone to college together, spent hours shooting hoops and avoiding class while drinking and trying to seduce women. He was trustworthy and a damn good sharpshooter.

“You hate anyone who’s ungrateful,” he said, chuckling under his breath.

“You’re damn straight.” I threw back the rest of my bourbon. There wasn’t enough liquor in my cabinet to soothe the anger crawling through me like wildfire. I was sick to death of pompous jerks who had no understanding of how to pay their respects to their Pakhan. Hell, Vadim was generous to a fucking fault, something I’d told him more than once.

People had proven themselves to be greedy bastards time and time again.

A roll of thunder drew my attention as I poured another half glass. I was also sick to freaking death of the latest weather pattern. The darkness. The ugly clouds. The torrential rain. Hell, the back room of the bottom floor had been seeping water like a sieve. And I’d paid three million dollars to renovate the damn house.

When lightning flashed, Danny groaned. He hated storms more than I did.

There was a loud pounding on the front door and the alarm went crazy given the severity of the sound. That usually wasn’t a good sign. While the Brighton Beach house was close to one of the streets positioned in front of the water, a well-traveled area, no one fucked with this house. At least usually.

We stared at each other, both drawing our weapons at the same time.

“I’ll do it,” he told me.

My phone rang and I nodded. He’d taken more than one bullet for me. Two other soldiers had been stationed to hang around the property but the ‘what if’ scenario never left the back of my mind. I’d added more security because there’d been some unrest on the streets. Yes, it always had to do with the Chernoff Bratva but that was almost never something considered personal. There was always a concept that the secondary and smaller Bratva, the Kaskovs, would finally attempt to overthrow us, but Vadim told me it would never happen.

Never say never.

I grabbed my phone, answering on the third ring. “Carter. What’s up?” I knew instantly something was wrong, my soldier breathless. And he worked out religiously.

“I’m sorry, boss. I tried to catch her, but she ran and damn, the woman was fast. She had a car waiting, a driver and they sped away. With the heavy rain, we couldn’t see shit. I chased the damn car but there was nothing I could do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You were left a package at the front door.”

“Ah, fuck. A bomb.”

“I doubt it,” Carter said, still trying to catch his breath.

“Nikolay.”

I heard Danny’s voice and also knew something was wrong, something… that would rock my world.

When I turned around, all I could do was take a deep breath. Danny had his hand on a little boy’s shoulder. A little boy who looked an awful lot like me.

“Thanks, Carter. I’ll take it from here.” Ending the call this time was entirely different than before. To say I was floored was an understatement.

The awkward silence was palpable and gut-wrenching. I wouldn’t call the kid afraid, although his lower lip was pouting out. There was an air of defiance to him that also reminded me of when I’d been a little boy. Fuck. What in God’s name could this be? A joke?

“There’s a letter,” Danny said. His voice was entirely too reserved.

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