Page 8 of Sinful Promise

I move to the kitchen and grab a bowl.

“Don’t touch the cards,” Papa warns me, as if I didn’t know his precious cards mean more to him than I do.

I set the bowl on the table. Andrian is fifteen years older than me with the manners of a billy goat. I doubt he cooks, as he eats everything in sight when he comes over. Now that he’s older, his belly is so big that his shirt doesn’t touch the top of his dress pants. Papa told me to always be nice to him because Andrian knows men who can toss us out of our apartment if we don’t do what he wants, which makes me wonder if my father is paying rent. If he isn’t, where is his money going? I know illegal gains are usually substantial. If so, where is his money? I’ve never figured out how much he makes for a living. We don’t have flashy possessions.

“Thank you, Dasha,” Andrian says with a suggestive undertone as I retreat from the table. I feel his eyes following me. I’m confused by this sudden change in him. He’s never come on to me before. When I turn to look at him, his eyes linger on me longer than is necessary, making my skin crawl.

I shake my head enough for only him to notice and excuse myself for the evening. The men continue to play Durak and mutter among themselves. I choose to forget the awkwardness and head to my room.

I shower and change into nightclothes. My phone beeps with messages. I play the Snapchat videos Katsia messaged me. She’s out with a group of friends and is having a blast.

I am a social outcast. Everyone has something to do tonight but me. I sit alone in the dark. My life isn’t turning out the way I planned. I must have been crazy to think Papa would ever change. My mother and brothers have abandoned me, and my only future is being a glorified maid with no way out.

4

ROMAN

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask Alex as he loads every weapon imaginable onto the plane. It’s like watching a woman pack for vacation, but instead of shoes, it’s guns and ammo.

“Preparing for the unexpected.” He gives me a serious look, and I realize he’s done this so many times that I shouldn’t second-guess him.

My goal is to plan this job and pull it off perfectly, not make it up as events unravel. Jobs can go sideways quickly, and I hate improvising. Everything we do in life is a risk, and I like to have control in all situations.

Alex piles more bags in the jet’s luggage compartment, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. I look down to make sure we’re not standing in a puddle of fuel. He knows smoking is not allowed on the tarmac, but he doesn’t care. That applies to his clothes, too. His designer jeans are worn, and the soles of his boots are uneven. He loves watches and likes to wear his hair with a lived-in style worn by rockers in a band. He finishes loading the equipment and nods to his friend sitting in a waiting SUV. The driver acknowledges him with a wave of his hand before driving away.

Alex is not one to sweat the small things in life and has no qualms about shooting his way out of a situation. I often wonder if he cares whether he lives or dies. What he does care about is work. Once we have a target, he’s like a bloodhound following a scent. He would rather go on adventures than have a personal life. He’s methodical with his equipment but careless about everything else. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he has kids all over the world as a result of his carelessness.

I’m heartless. It’s easy to get women. I have money. Even though I can be an asshole, women still line up for my approval and drink the expensive champagne my money buys.

“You have enough shit here to start a revolution,” I tease, but we have that in common.

“Fuck you, Roman.” He takes one last drag off his cigarette before he drops it, grinds it into the ground with his military-style shoe, and turns to board.

I follow him up the steps. I hate going to Belarus. I’d much rather be on the way to the Italian coast or the Greek islands. The family’s huge yacht is at my disposal and ready to go. The weather is perfect for the open waters under sunny skies—no one tans in Russia. I plan to enjoy my freedom as soon as I resolve this current situation. The question is, who do I want on the yacht with me?

I buckle my seatbelt. Today is one more job of many. I’m sure Ratmim is a dirtbag, and his sons are just as dicey, growing up with the family business. Who’s Ratmim in bed with, to get in and out of Russia so cleverly? I need to know. He’s a low-level criminal, so the directive came from someone more powerful than him. Ratmim doesn’t have a family tree peppered with public officials.

I keep my eyes on the ground and my ears open. Intel gathered in person is valuable. My peers consider me to be rather old-school for my age. They’re all into technology, but I don’t believe we should rely on one type of surveillance. There’s no such thing as having too much information if you want to be successful. I can thank my mentor, Misha, for my attitude. Misha trained me to track the wind for long-range shooting, along with other skill sets needed to survive in the wild. Technology can be limited.

When it comes to guns, I’m proficient in most weapons but I love guns. I’ve worked with Alex for years, so we’re like a finely oiled machine. In the field, once my gun is set up and dialed in for headwinds and tailwinds, Alex takes over. He’s great at adjusting my shot for winds. I’m used to a scope for long-range shots.

I like to visualize water flowing to my target when I’m planning a long-range shot. Does the stream go over a hill, then dip down and stay true? What about wind stream and its effect on the bullet’s trajectory? Alex and I have studied flags and wind to perfect our shooting techniques, honing our craft on numerous deer hunts over the years.

Normally, I’d call Dmitry for the information I want. He’s an ace at hacking into systems, with an uncanny ability to get information that’s never seen the light of day. They call it the dark web for a reason. If I asked, Dmitry would do a deep dive on Ratmim, but he’s newly married with a gorgeous wife and a baby on the way. His life now is…complicated.

I’m happy for him, but in my opinion, love is for dreamers and masochists. My mom and dad loved one another, shared the same interests and passions, but they were lucky. They never tired of one another, but that kind of love is rare.

I prefer being single. I can do what I want, when I want. Nikolay says I’m spoiled, and that Mom coddled me too much as a baby. Maybe so, but I have my own wing in the family house. It may reek of testosterone, but I don’t have anyone telling me to get my boots off the coffee table, and that’s fine by me.

There is a pecking order in the world of organized crime. We would not exist if we didn’t provide services to men with political aspirations and power. We do what they cannot by using our street-savvy skills to make money through nefarious and morally gray methods. We capitalize on this, getting protection from them, and they, in turn, make other demands of us.

Most people don’t realize it, but controlling something as simple as aluminum can destabilize the market supply chain and cause spikes in prices. When quantities are limited, we profit from the product, and the stock price increases. It’s easy to manipulate the free-market system, and no one is the wiser. Aluminum is just one example of how we can make millions in a short amount of time. We create opportunities on Wall Street for our inside people to make deals that line our pockets. No one comes looking to see how much aluminum we have in stock.

We prefer currencies like the dollar and euro because they are more stable than the ruble. For now, I’m staying away from cyber currency. Let someone else get stuck holding a bag of worthless bitcoins. We’ve also invested in legitimate businesses. Buildings, land, and hotels. It’s like a game of Monopoly.

I’m not sure where today’s fishing expedition will lead. We will follow Ratmim, and somehow, I will extract what we need or seek my revenge without starting a war.

As the plane taxis down the runway to take off, I start to second-guess the mission. Maybe I’m being impetuous and seeking Nikolay’s approval. I failed my family and don’t want to be seen as a fuckup. I’m the point man my brothers depend upon when the chips are down. I refuse to lose their respect over this.

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