Page 36 of Surrogate for the Bratva
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Maxim was already at the stash house, so I hopped into my sporty BMW and weaved through the streets of Atlanta until I arrived at the two story mid-century home that was perfectly nondescript.
I expected to see black clouds billowing high into the sky, the chaos of lights and sirens. But there was none. The neighborhood was perfectly quiet. Perfectly boring.
“Maxim.”
He stood on the porch with his gaze going up and down the block in search of anything that was out of place. When he spotted me, he jogged down to meet me. “Igor,” he sighed, andhis shoulders slumped forward. “You didn’t have to rush over but I thought you should know what was happening.”
“You did the right thing,” I assured him. “What happened?”
“The fire didn’t have time to do much damage.”
“Lucky for us,” I grumbled.
“Not luck,” he answered. “The mechanic who owns that blue ranch house over there gave me a call. Said some shady looking fuckers were milling around the house and they didn’t look like any of our regulars.”
The key to a good stash house was keeping it routine in residential neighborhoods. It was what people expected, and it kept the neighbors from becoming too concerned. “Give him my thanks.”
“The garage was the point of origin, but it didn’t even do much damage in there,” Maxim explained and pointed to the attached garage. “Some smoke damage but the boys managed to put it out before the cops or fire department arrived. Come on.”
I followed him inside the house where we checked on our products—guns headed to Europe and drugs bound for the West Coast—to make sure everything was accounted for. “Nothing is missing.”
“Not one fucking gram,” Ivan assured me. “We weighed the bricks and counted the cash. Took stock of all the crates and it’s all here.” The relief in his voice was palpable.
“That’s good,” Maxim said more to himself than to the rest of us. “I still think we should move the product early.”
I thought about Maxim’s advice. It was smart and pragmatic just like the man, but it felt like a kneejerk reaction. “I’m not sure that’s necessary. I think Dmitry did this just to prove that he could get to me and my product.”
“I agree,” Maxim replied with a nod. “But there’s also the possibility that he was hoping the fire would send the cops sniffing around which would be bad for business. And our freedom.”
I weighed his words carefully. I couldn’t put anything past Dmitry and the idea of me in handcuffs probably got the motherfucker giddy with excitement. It was no secret that he had many soldiers locked up and held influence inside the prison system, which would put me at a distinct advantage. “Okay. Pack it up and move it. I’ll talk to our buyers and see if they can receive it early.”
“On it.” Determined strides carried Ivan from the room.
I turned to Maxim. “We should beef up security on the other houses as well for the foreseeable future. Give instructions to shoot on sight. No civilians.”
Maxim nodded. “I don’t like this Igor. It feels off, almost too petty to be Igor.”
“Agreed. This seems like a mild response to losing yet another man. Then again, maybe he hasn’t discovered Vlad yet.”
Maxim smiled. “I would call that unlikely. Someone will have discovered a pool filled with blood. Neighbors in America are not so different from Russians. Nosy as fucking hell.”
I laughed despite myself. “Then we should brace ourselves for something bigger. This might be to piss me off or something as stupid as a kid’s prank.” I couldn’t make themistake of assuming that every attack or perceived attack was from Voronov. He was just a man and not even a particularly smart man, which meant I needed to stay focused and remember that Dmitry Voronov wasn’t my only enemy.
He was just the most annoying of them all.
Chapter Twenty-One
April
Imissed you.
Igor’s words haunted me. I couldn’t stop thinking about them even though I knew there was nothing to them. He probably meant it literally, like he’d come home too late to check in with me, not that my presence or lack of it meant anything to him. Still, each time those three words echoed inside my head—which was too damn often—I felt something burrow even deeper in my chest until I almost choked.
He doesn’t miss me.I had to stop thinking like that which probably meant I had to stop sleeping with him because the sex was too good and it was confusing me. Between the orgasms and the hormones, it was too much.
Luckily, the sound of my phone ringing on the nightstand broke the spell of my endless loop of thoughts regarding the man whose baby I was carrying. I stood and tore my gaze from the beauty just outside my window and made my way toward the ringing phone. It was Kelsie’s ring, and I smiled as I answered. “Kelsie. Have you killed my brother yet?”
