Page 57 of Scars He Gave Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 2)

He’s whistling while he works, pretending to ignore me, but he hears. And we both know it. Corrine’s plan is the only one we have and it can work, but it’s going to require Bratva resources and I can’t just demand those. Dealing with my father takes finesse, the ability to make him think he’s winning no matter what.

This time, though, I don’t have time to coddle his ego. These Italian fuckers need to be put in their place. Because now, it’s personal.

“How do I know she didn’t make the program herself?”

‘I know her’and‘I trust her’aren’t phrases that will convince him. But it’s all I have. “I trust her,” I say carefully.

“Because you’re fucking her.” He sets the knife and the guts of the pig on a tray behind him then frowns at me and shakes his head. “Your cock is not a good judge of character.”

My cock has nothing to do with Corrie’s work. “Corinne is the only hope we have. She’s enlisted the people responsible for writing the program in the first place. They’re going to undo it. Reverse it.”

“How will he know? If this woman of yours is so smart, how will we be able to see that she is doing the right things?”

I growl in frustration. This isn’t going well.

My father is peeling back the pig’s skin to reveal the muscles and skeleton. When I first came to the Bratva, I heard a story about him skinning a man who turned rat against him for the FBI. The turn our conversation has taken is no coincidence. My father doesn’t do coincidences. He’s trying to send me a message.

I take off my jacket and pull an apron from the wall. Maybe he needs to see how far I’ll go, too. I hold onto the pig’s front legs as he strips the skin down its back.

“Father, if someone crosses you, I will kill them.”

He clucks. “I don’t want to take a chance. Why not just blow them up? All of them?” He nods and lays the pig’s skin to the side. “Firebombs solve many problems.”

“Too much attention. The investigation could expose us.” I shouldn’t have to tell him that. Maybe he’s testing me, to see if I am as in control of the situation as I say I am. “If Peyton doesn’t deliver, I’ll kill him. But this is our chance to turn the program against the Italians and get back the money they stole from us. Turn the tide of the war.”

He eyes me from beneath narrowed eyes. “You’ll kill them all if I tell you to. The girl, too.”

I keep my face a mask of loyalty. But kill Corinne? I don’t know if I have that in me.

“You have one week.” He picks up the knife and slices off a thin slab of muscle. Then another. Meticulous. Practiced. Precise. “Until Friday, before your wedding. And then Evgeni and Demetri will kill the Italians and blow up the computer building.Kaboom. No more problem, ya?”

I nod. There’s nothing to do but get started and hope Corrie can get the job done before my father tries to have her killed. We don’t have time to spare. As I hang up my bloodstained apron and slip my arms back into my jacket, my father is whistling a tune as if he’s excited about the prospect of mayhem on the horizon.

And as I drive to Sentinel Security, I’m not surprised. The reason he’s a good leader is because he lets no emotion cloud his decisions. Knowing his son is attached to one of the people he’s threatening to kill won’t lessen or minimize the threats. It won’t stop him from ordering me to kill her, her friend, and her boss alike.

When I gave Corinne my mom’s life insurance money to pay for college, I had no idea we would ever see each other again or that I would come to rely on that education.

I just have to hope the money was well spent.

17

Tomas

I pull my SUV into a spot down the block from her building and signal to Evgeni, who’s standing outside. He’s supposed to be with Corinne. I slam the door and slow my stride as I walk around the car.

“Where’s Corinne?” My voice is hard, the tone unmistakable.

“She’s talking to the man at the desk. She asked me to wait out here.” Which is the reason why no one is walking on this side of the street. A man like Evgeni discourages even complete and total strangers from walking anywhere near him.

“I’ve got her now,” I tell him. “I need you for something else.”

I’ve tried twice to call Alek, who would normally take care of these things, but he hasn’t answered or called back. Evgeni is going to have to do.

“I need nine men. Here. And try to find Aleksey. I need to speak to him.” These disappearing acts of his are unacceptable.

He turns, phone already to his ear, as I pull the door open and walk inside.

There she is. My Corrie. And like we’re kids again, seeing her knocks the wind out of me. But it’s that fucking smile that truly goes through me.

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