Page 41 of Brooklyn Bratva

“It’s only been an evening.”

“Well I did.”

I set her back down on the ground and Becca leaned in against me as we walked. I liked the feel of my arm around her shoulders, and her petite body tucked in neatly against my chest.

“Where are we going?”

“Mehmet’s. Coffee and baklava to start, and then,” I shrugged. “The day is ours.”

I’d take her wherever she wanted to go as long as she kept smiling at me like that. We’d do whatever she wanted. And maybe I’d give her a little more insight into my world, because there was no way I was letting Becca go into this blind. I needed her to accept the whole of me, and everything my world came with. Any wife of mine would be by my side in all things. I couldn’t stomach the idea of keeping secrets from her when all I wanted was to share with her everything that I had.

I stuffed my hand deep into my pocket and made a fist in an attempt to disguise the fat snake visible down the inside leg of my pants. Around her, I had no control at all.

CHAPTER 21

Ivan

When we got to the cafe, the windows were dark and the closed sign was still over. I frowned, cupping my hands around my eyes against the glass so I could peer inside.

What I saw wasn’t good.

“Becca, call the cops.”

“What? You are the cops. What’s going on?”

“Something’s happened. Stay out here.”

Already unholstering my gun, I shouldered open the door to the shop with a few solid barges, using my body as a battering ram to break the flimsy lock from the frame. Mehmet hadn’t needed an alarm, but I’d told him more times than I could count to get a decent lock fitted. Everyone around here knew he was under my protection, but that wasn’t going to stop chancers.

With another ram of my shoulder, the wood frame splintered under my weight and I pushed the door in, striding into the dark shop with my weapon held high.

“Stay outside,” I repeated, tone all the more forceful now that I was sure of what I was looking at.

Just like I’d known he must have done as soon as I’d seen Ruslan making the money drop, he’d gone to the Ukranians for a better deal. And he must have gone to them again when he realized how fucked he was after shooting me.

Mehmet’s Nikes peeked out from behind the glass counter, and flies buzzed over something sticky and dark splattered over the surface of it and dripping down the sides. His handprint looked like some kind of kid’s painting project right in the center.

I swallowed hard, numbing my reactions as I rounded the corner to take in the worst.

Mehmet lay face up, obviously shoved onto his back. There were defense wounds on his arms, but it didn’t take a coroner to tell me the cause of death. His throat was slit from side to side and the floor was red.

Ruslan had well and truly crossed me, and the Ukranians thought they could muscle in while I was on the back foot and take down my operation. That was the only thing that made sense.

I kicked the counter and the glass splintered, a crack fracturing across the middle of the handprint.

The shop bell sounded, and I rounded to see Becca’s standing there, wide eyed with panic.

“Oh my God.” Her hand darted up to cover her mouth, but she didn’t gag. I had to give her that.

But she shouldn’t have been there. I wanted her gone.

“I told you to stay outside.”

“And then I heard noises. Last time you disappeared on me you wound up shot.”

I shook my head, teeth gritting together hard. “So you thought you’d come and get shot too? Damn it woman…”

I had to school my temper, but it was almost beyond me. Mehmet had been an honest man. He’d been a lynch pin to my operations, and he did make the best coffee for miles. His back room was my second office, and this was going to send shockwaves through the foundations of every contact I had.

The back room was going to be a problem. I dragged a hand across my eyes, holstering my weapon. With the police coming I had to work fast.

I grabbed Becca by the wrist, leading her through to my makeshift office. I drew in a breath at the mess they’d made of the place. At least I wasn’t stupid enough to keep documentation here. “Don’t touch anything. You see a bag over there?”

“What? What’s going on, Ivan? Who did this?”

“A bunch of dicks who are too chickenshit to deal with me themselves. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

I knelt down to the safe in the corner that they evidently hadn’t come prepared to handle, spinning the combination and swinging the door open.

---