Page 29 of The Debt

Then reality crashed back with the force of a sledgehammer.

Blood on asphalt. Lisbet’s hair matted crimson, and Emma’s tiny hand, still warm but growing colder by the second, clutched in his as sirens wailed in the distance. All that had remained were their bodies outlined in chalk on these very streets of Atlanta while Gregor Polov’s empire flourished.

His arms tightened around Tatiana involuntarily, but now the embrace felt like a noose around his own neck.

“Thank you, Jarek. That was explosive,” she murmured in a soft tone of contentment. Nuzzling closer, she was unaware that the man holding her had just returned to the darkest abyss.

Tatiana Polov might have breached his defenses tonight, might have carved out a small space in what remained of his soul, but he would excise her like a tumor before he left this building. This moment of weakness changed nothing. His family was gone while her grandfather counted blood money in his Berkeley Lake mansion.

“There is one thing you need to know,” she murmured against his chest.

“I’m listening.” He continued drawing gentle circles on her back with his fingertips.

“My grandfather is pushing me to marry one of his associates. Actually, he has already given Barto Petrov his agreement that the marriage is going to happen.”

“That sounds rather archaic. Did you agree?” Jarek smiled. Tatiana sharing something that was supposed to be a family secret meant that she was fully committed to the path he had planned for them.

“Of course not, but it does put a damper on how we approach our journey ahead. I grew up with my grandparents, and although his insistence about this has put a strain on our relationship, I would want their blessing on our marriage… when it does happen.”

“And convincing him I’m a better option than this Petrov isn’t going to be easy, I imagine.”

“My grandfather… well… he’s not the kind of man to change his mind, especially if it’s about an alliance he would benefit from.”

“So, he’s using you to gain financially?”

“I’m not sure why he’s so adamant about it. I got the impression the pressure is coming from Petrov. Personally, I think he has a hold over my grandfather.”

“Let’s worry about that tomorrow. For now… I believe it’s my turn to use my tie on you.”

“Are you sure?” she leaned back to smile teasingly at him. “I mean, you’re not a youngster anymore, and getting Jarek Junior to stand at attention so soon… oh!” She laughed as he pushed her back and pressed his turgid cock against her warm core. “Well, I guess I just learned something about you.”

“Hmm… the only thing you need to learn about me, little Venus, is to never underestimate me.”

Jarek quickly tied her hands and secured them above her head by looping the tie around the leg of the side table. Soon, her cries of passion filled the air as he once again pushed her into a euphoric explosion that left them both breathless.

Gregor Polov had taught him the most valuable lesson of all—love was a weapon that could destroy you. Now, Jarek would use that same weapon of destruction against him.

He pressed a kiss on Tatiana’s temple. Bile tasted bitter at the tenderness of the gesture. Let her believe in this illusion. It would make her fall, and ultimately that of Gregor Polov, all the more devastating.

Jarek was now more resolute than ever—death was too easy for the Bratva Pakhan. The Polovs’ debt would be paid in pounds of flesh and despair that would last a lifetime.

Chapter Fourteen

Jarek

One month later, Norfolk Southern-Inman Rail Yard, Marietta Road, Atlanta…

The graveyard of forgotten trains stretched into the darkness. Moonlight glinted off rust-eaten metal, casting shadows between the hulking carcasses of abandoned railcars. Weeds pushed through cracked concrete, and the air held the metallic tang of oxidized steel. The only sounds were distant yard operations and the occasional screech of wheels on rails.

LuckyDead-EyeHolden led the way through the maze of decay. His muscled frame moved with surprising lightness. At just under six feet, the former Marine carried himself with military precision. A long scar traced his left cheek—a souvenir from his last deployment before he left the military.

“Petrov is eagerly awaiting your presence in the shack, Boss.” Lucky gestured toward a dilapidated structure at the edge of the yard where light leaked through its warped boards.

“Is he lucid?” Jarek’s mouth curved with amusement as he asked the question. Lucky took his enforcer role with cinematic seriousness—a trait that both entertained and exasperated Jarek. The man had watched The Godfather one too many times.

“Coherent enough to answer questions.” Lucky checked his weapon—a habit he retained from his combat days. “I had to remind him about respect, though.”

Jarek studied his bodyguard. A veteran suffering from PTSD, who was thrown to the sidewalk by an uncaring government, turned him into the man he was today. Lucky’s brutal streak made him perfect for certain tasks, but it required careful management. The man would fit right in with Polovskaya’s thugs if not for his fierce loyalty to Jarek and the Somerville crew.

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