Page 4 of Sinful Promise

“There is more at stake than guns. Our buyer will be pissed.”

“I know.” This is a concern for my brother because this is how enemies are made. Men like us have a lot of enemies, and it’s not always about a deal that’s not completed. Our clients, more often than not, are irrational and impatient.

This is why we surround ourselves with bodyguards and live behind security gates. We take precautions, but we know we’re still vulnerable. Anyone with enough motivation can get to us at any time.

Once in a while, life fucks us back. It happened to Dad and can happen to me or someone in our family.

Threats are ongoing. It’s one reason we stick together. The tighter we are, the better. We stay close to make it difficult for assholes from other groups can’t infiltrate us.

This country doesn’t breed transparency. No country does. Those in power might make it look good, but it’s a lie at the end of the day. The so-called “truth” is smoke and mirrors that have been perfected over time to manipulate people, rulers, and countries. It’s been effective for centuries.

We live with lies. I see the world as it is with its messy underbelly. I can’t afford to wear blinders. Freedom is an illusion. I have more privileges, but they come with risks that can’t be taken lightly.

“Every politician needs someone to do their dirty work.” Nikolay’s voice is stern.

“True. We have to do shitty things for the government,” I lament in a sullen tone.

“Yes, but this means there is a pissing contest going on at the state level.”

“It’s never pleasant.” I think about Dad and Igor. Igor refused to sell shares of their company at a loss just to raise money for the men running the government. By the time the world outside Russia heard about it, it was too late for my father and his right-hand man, Boris.

“No, it’s not. Keep your guard up,” he warns. “They got what they wanted. I’ll have to take the loss. We can’t retaliate publicly.”

“What? We can’t sit for this!” My blood boils in my veins. This is preposterous. I want to kill Ratmim. Fuck him. He deserves death by torture, and I’d love to be the one to do it.

“Let me think about it.” My brother’s voice is calm and reasonable. It’s one of the many reasons he makes a great leader.

“I want to find out more about him. I’m going to check him out. I’ve never seen him in person, but there is a picture here,” I reply.

“Mm. You’re sitting at Dad’s desk?” He asks the question because we’re not on a video call, and he’s trying to figure out where I am. He knows me inside and out. We’re brothers and often think alike.

“Yes.” My hands hover over the sleek wooden desk. I’m in Dad’s chair, flipping the picture between my fingers. Ratmim’s face is committed to my memory. The intel says he has two sons. I could take the life of one of his sons without leaving a trace. Sure, they will wonder if it was us, but they will have no proof. The Kozlovs will be pissed but powerless to do anything. Their methodical hands will be tied, and the thought of this makes me extremely happy.

“I miss him.” Nikolay’s words surprise me. He hasn’t talked about Dad since the night he was murdered. We’ve not had time to process our loss. Sometimes, I go to call Dad and remember he’s not here.

“Me, too. How are you with that? You can’t hold it in forever.” Inwardly, I scoff.As if I’m any better. We’re taught to keep our emotions inside. Nikolay doesn’t share work with his wife, and I don’t keep girlfriends. The less everyone knows, the safer it is for the family.

“True. I just need a moment to process it. I’ve been busy. Burying the loss by keeping the business going is easier. But now that things have calmed down, I will. Dmitry is settling in New York, and we’re expanding, whether I like it or not. I miss us all living in the same city. We took that for granted,” he says, his voice trailing off.

“I miss us hanging out here. Now that you’re both married, I’m sure it will cut down on our time together,” I add. “We’re in different countries, and Dmitry is expecting a baby. Go figure.” I put my lips together and give a low whistle. “I can’t imagine what that will be like. I’m hoping I can wind up this gun thing and take my planned vacation.”

“Yeah, you need to go. The vessel needs to be used. It costs a fortune every day to staff it, for fuck’s sake. Family is family, we’ll figure it out. I have the New York deal going through; that shipment is arriving this week as planned. Thankfully, Dmitry oversaw the deal and kept the Italians from getting a bigger cut. That was not going to go over well, so it’s nice we kept the peace.”

“It’s not every day a man stumbles across an unknown mafia princess,” I add. But Dmitry has been lucky in life, having survived a car crash meant to kill him with a fiery inferno. “Funny that the Italians lost their leverage years ago when they turned their back on one of their daughters.”

He chuckles at the expense of the nasty old Italian don in New York, but the moment is short-lived. Nikolay takes a breath and is back to business.

“How is Mom?” he asks. “She looked great at the wedding, but I worry she’ll never move on.”

“She’s doing better. The idea of having a grandbaby makes her very happy. Dad lives on with the next generation,” I mumble. I feel a twinge of something like sorrow, or is it an emptiness inside me? Everyone in the family has someone except me.

“That means we all have to step up, brother.” His pensive mood seems to have passed. At times, his mood can change so fast that I get whiplash.

“I’ll step up, all right, when Ratmim is rotting in the shit soil he lives on.”

“Don’t do anything that will blow back on us. I have no desire to start a war.” His stern voice reminds me of Dad.

Dad would let us fuck off, but when he used that stoic tone and was short with his words, we knew he meant business. That’s when we snapped to attention like military men saluting a corporal.

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