Page 56 of Bratva Knight

Sick of not being involved in whatever the fuck was going on right now, I hiked up onto my tippy toes so I could peak over their heads and see this mysterious Level five. I internally rolled my eyes.Of course.

“He’s not gay.”

Darren glanced over his shoulder at me. “And how could you possibly know that, new girl?”

“The name is Tatiana.”

“Oh, how rude of me,” he stated in a snarky tone.

“Don’t be an ass, Darren. We like her,” Belinda said, winking at me.

“Okay, fine.Tatiana, care to explain how you know Level five isn’t gay? It’s not something you can tell just by looking at someone.”

“Very true.” I went back to my locker and picked up my handbag, draping it over my shoulder. “His name is Nikolai, and he’s my ex.”

Their jaws dropped open.

“Your-your ex?!” Darren gasped. “You lucky son of a bitch. How could you let go of a piece of prime rib likethat?”

Those familiar feelings of resentment started to creep their way back into me, like they did every time I thought about our past. But that feeling was quickly replaced by anger when Belinda spoke.

“Oh, shit. Desiree is going in for the kiss.”

Chapter Sixteen

Nikolai Volkov

“So,whydon’twestart with who you are and what you need?” I asked, flipping my binder open. I ran my pen down the page until I got to the name I was searching for.

Alex Delacourt, Prez of the Dark Knights Motorcycle Club. He ran the New York Charter, and from the information laid out in front of me, he was currently in a turf war with another rival MC—the Scavengers.

After dropping Tatiana off at the café for her trial shift, I’d headed straight for my meetings with the prospective clients Aleksandr had mentioned. It was a good distraction, something I desperately needed at this point.

Last night had been tortuous for a number of reasons. Walking away from a naked and willing Tatiana had to be just about the hardest thing I’d ever had to fucking do. Every part of my body literally screamed for her. I craved her soft, smooth skin, the taste of her pussy, the feel of her wrapped around my cock, squeezing it with an almost painful pleasure. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy, though.

Tatiana was prepared to give me her body but not her heart. Her soul. Parts of her would never be enough for me. I wanted every single fucking inch. I wanted her laughs. Her smiles. Her sassy as fuck attitude. I wanted to be the one she could rely on, trust again.

I still wasn’t sure how I was going to make that happen yet. So far, my only plan was to just be there. To constantly smother her with my presence and prove to her I wasn’t going anywhere. That I planned to be right there, at her side for as long as it took for me to gain her trust again. Or die trying.

Alex took a drag of the cigar at his lips, blowing out a ring of smoke. He was wearing his cut: a black, leather motorcycle vest and a pair of ripped denim jeans. He was on the older side. Late forties, with short chestnut hair and dark grey eyes.

“Your little clipboard there doesn’t tell you everything you already need to know, sport?” he asked, giving me a condescending look.

I had every bit of information there was available on himandhis MC, from both public and private sources. But I wanted something more than I could find online or from word of mouth. We didn’t work with people we didn’t know or trust. Doing that shit got you killed, or worse, caught and thrown in jail. It was imperative I find outexactlywhat kind of man Alex was, whether he was the trustworthy type. The type who would keep his mouth shut and not rat out where he got his supplies from if he ever got caught by the cops.

I levelled my gaze on him, staring him down. He thought because he was older than me, that it gave him the right to speak to me like I was a child. To not give me the respect I was due. The respect my position demanded.

He cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter and avoiding my eyes. I’d been told that people found me intimidating, especially when I was glaring at them for stepping out of line.

“I’m Alex Delacourt, and I’m the President of the Dark Knights Charter here in NYC.”

“Very good,” I nodded. “And what kind of ordnance are you looking for?”

“AK-47s, MP4s, some single-shot handguns, combat knives and bowie knives.”

I wrote them down next to his name as he spoke, doing a mental tally of the inventory I knew we had available already.

“We’re in the middle of a turf war at the moment and I want them for—”

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