Page 3 of Sinful Promise

“No one comes this far to fuck with anyone,” Alex says. “They had to have intel to even know about the guns, and that’s a scary thought.”

“Right? Do we have a mole? Or did they get lucky? It could have been an innocuous event that led to us. Or it could be personal. My gut tells me this is exceptionally personal.”

“They have protection in Belarus for sure.” Alex lights a cigarette and cracks the window. “It makes them think their balls are bigger than they are because if we were to confront them on our own turf, we’d filet them.”

He’s right about that. I haven’t been paying much attention to world events. I have no clue what’s happening around me since Dad died, and that’s not healthy for me or the family business. Nikolay knows the names of the players, as he’s responsible for all of us. But I’m on the ground daily and should have a beat on what’s happening.

“I think we should be paying more attention to our rivals, and not just those in our borders.”

“Good idea, all things considered,” Alex mocks me. He exhales toward the crack as if it will really help the shitty smell building inside my new car.

“You should give up smoking,” I bark, venting some of my anger on him. It feels good. “This is a fucking new car. Show some respect.”

Alex throws his shitty stick out the window.

“It’s a bad habit. Maybe one day I will meet a woman who will make me give it up.”

“You should do that on your own.” I’m agitated. He smoked in my car, and I like to keep my shit tidy and clean. It’s mine, and I protect what’s mine. I work hard and make sacrifices. I’m always under pressure, most of which I put on myself, and it’s been worse since Dad died.

I wonder if there was something I missed about his death. It’s not like we have public information here. We’re told what the government wants us to hear.

I peer through the windshield, searching the sky for answers. Clouds block the moon but keep in the warmth of the sunny day. Bad shit happens during full moons more often than not. The moon has to be full for a trusted employee of many years to turn on us and cost us a small fortune. We assume he was bought, but money does not always motivate people. For instance, fear for a loved one is just as powerful, if not more so.

We control businesses through threats and intimidation. Businesses pay for protection. In our country, it’s a way of life. If you make money, you pay someone for the privilege.

I pull into a large development of apartments, scanning the horizon for interlopers, leery of the night ending well.

“Talk to you later,” Alex says as he gets out.

The door slams, and I drive on, lost in no-man’s-land. Periodically, I check my mirrors in case someone is following me. Tonight was a reminder that even the Volkovs aren’t untouchable. Maybe we should have bribed officials to discover who was behind Dad’s supposed accident. We assumed it was the government.

Maybe we were wrong.

I drive fifteen minutes to an upscale neighborhood where homes come with property. This is the location of our second childhood home, the one we were living in when Dad became the head of an organized crime family born out of Russia’s turmoil. I used to spend most of my time in my mansion on the French Riviera, but things changed after Dad’s funeral. I returned home to keep Mom from going stir-crazy. She was sitting home, alone with the ghosts and memories of the past.

I park in the driveway and head inside. Entering Dad’s office, I have a sudden flashback. A few months ago, Dad told Nikolay he was to marry Anya, his best friend’s daughter. It was an arranged marriage, and it was time for him to fulfill the family obligation. Our other brother, Dmitry, is the middle brother who managed to marry a love child of an illicit mafia love affair. Dmitry’s union solidified our family with the Russians in New York City. I’m the only one left holding on to the single life.

I sit at his desk. It’s just as he left it. There are some things we don’t put on electronic devices, and information on Ratmim is one of those things. As much as Dmitry is our computer Geek, there are items we don’t have on digital equipment. Dad liked keeping information off of devices, preferring to keep physical files.

There are numerous criminal organizations in Europe, especially in Russia. After the breakup of the Soviet Union, we quickly learned how to keep the elected officials happy: we pay them a percentage of our profits. It’s a win-win. They use our money to remain in power and buy luxurious items that can’t be traced. Those of us in organized crime launder their money and do their dirty work. In return, they look the other way. My world is filled with nefarious characters. We try to limit the players and remain under the radar, but there is a price to pay. Dad’s life was one of those payments—retribution for not conceding to figureheads.

Did Ratmim act on his own, or was he asked to steal my shipment? I’m angry over Dad’s untimely death. Life can change so quickly, and it haunts me. I will call Nikolay. He’ll know what to do. He’s the don and makes the decisions that keep us safe on the large chessboard. He knows more about international affairs than I care to admit.

I pull out my burner phone. Dmitry is the brother who is savvy with technology. He keeps us up to speed with the latest advancements in encrypted devices. He helps with research and he’s in charge of our security systems.

I’m not keen on gadgets, but I follow his instructions to stay as safe as possible. Nowadays, everything can be tracked with a microscopic chip and a GPS location. I know a thing or two about sophisticated tracking devices.

“Brother, what’s up?” Nikolay answers cheerfully. I suspect he and Anya were probably just finishing a resounding fuck. They’re like rabbits. I can’t be bothered with the fuss it takes to keep a woman happy. Women are fickle and expensive.

“Bad news.” I pause, hating the fact that this indiscretion happened on my watch. “The guns are gone. The man who oversees the warehouse was compromised. I caught him. He told me Ratmim stole them.”

“Fuck.” He curses, and I can picture him looking for something to break or punch.

“I know. We can’t let them get away with a score this easily.”

“He knows powerful men,” Nikolay warns me.

“So do we.”

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