Page 3 of Secret Baby and the Bratva

The satisfaction of solving a problem definitively swells my chest. I doubt I’ll feel a need to turn in my firearm anytime soon. Sometimes issues need to be handled.

As I round the car to get in, I catch sight of our latestsolved problemsprawled on the concrete floor. How soon will this satisfaction be a thing of the past? What about the cleaners we employ? Will they be out of work too? So many problems to consider if we’re going to be in charge.

The only silver lining to less violence might be the possibility that it will be easier for a woman to tolerate us.

Forcing my eyes away from the body, I close myself in the car. I don’t allow thoughts of Margot when I’m doing a hit. The sanctity of the car will have to suffice because the memories of Margot flood my mind…her soft skin, her sweet smile, her innocence.

We had one glorious night with her, then she disappeared without a trace. We’ve made people disappear. Did the Soloniks see us with her and take her out?

I can’t accept that possibility. Besides, they would have gloated. Then it hits me…not knowing is worse…the ultimate torture.

I cling to hope. She’s out there somewhere.

She wouldn’t exchange contact information with us at Virgin Night. And when we checked the contract she signed to join the sex club, the address was a dud. It was her father’s house, and he said she moved out overnight. He had no idea where she was. What’s worse is that it didn’t seem like he cared. How the hell could he not care about such an angel of a woman?

None of us have made a single effort to connect with a woman since our night with Margot. I wait until we’re inside the car to share my thoughts with my brothers.

“In this transition to new ways, we won’t have as many hits. Do either of you intend to use it as a fresh start for finding a woman?”

“I don’t need women,” Maxim barks too quickly.

“I haven’t given up on Margot.” Yulian doesn’t shy away from my real question.

“Do you ever wonder if she disappeared because she found out who we are, what we do?”

Maxim starts the car. “It wasn’t right.” He hates admitting he fell for her. He hates it even worse that he can’t have her.

Yulian adds, “Right or wrong, I can’t get over her. I’m going to be celibate the rest of my life.”

“At least our cousins are willing to share power with us. Let’s go honor them and show our support for their authority and our brotherhood moving forward.”

Maxim

Kirill, Panas, and Grigory meet us in the waiting room at the hospital. One of the three of them knocked Harper their girlfriend up, but they’re all sharing the paternity claim.

Heartfelt congratulations are exchanged and Panas says, “You’re just in time. Harper woke up. Come see them.”

I pat him on the back. “Well done, men. Could you imagine if all of us had girls? What would grandfather have done?”

“You do know you’ll have to have sex with a woman to have a baby?” He taunts me.

My brother Yulian grumbles. “The old fucker probably would’ve taken control to the grave.”

The idle chatter as we walk to the hospital room gives me time to wonder if we can truly change. My whole life, I’ve wanted to be Ubiytsa. I don’t know who I am without it. I’m a skilled marksman and have the savvy ability to get near bad guys and eliminate them. I kill people, but for the right reasons. Why the fuck does anyone question it?

My social skills don’t extend to sitting and chatting up peaceful negotiations over tea. But if the Lazovski Bratva is going to move forward, I am moving forward with them. They are my life.

Resentment rolls through me at the thought of figuring out other ways to eliminate bad guys. Being able to shoot someone from a distance or pulling a gun on someone in a small room…I have control. What my cousins are proposing is a lot fucking harder.

Harper is all smiles as we enter but as I step forward to touch her son, her expression stiffens. My assessment that she flinches and cradles the infant a little closer confirms her unease.

I notice those small things. It’s what I do. I have to be on the smallest tells.

Most people probably wouldn’t see the horror on her face as she looks up at me, but she fears me, which probably explains why I will never be the one to produce a male heir.

Fine, I didn’t want to touch her kid anyway. I’m not asnuggle-up with babies and laugh at how cute their poops arekind of guy.

Women fear me. Men fear me. I’ll never be good enough for a woman.

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