Page 38 of Wicked Knight 2

“You’re not old enough for what has to happen next.” I braced my hand on his shoulder, then met Donata’s gaze over his head.

She nodded, then flashed me a brilliant smile that made my pulse skip a beat. “Come on, buddy. We have a lot of cleanup to do in here.” She took his hand in hers and pulled him toward her. “Let Maxim do his thing.”

“Don’t let Boris shoot you again.” He frowned.

“That’s the plan.” I stopped to look at the two of them for a beat before I headed for the stairs.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had considered my future. In truth, before Donata came into my life, I’d spent my days drifting. Focusing on the present instead of the past, made my head hurt less. Only Papa knew what I’d been struggling with since the accident last year. The pounding headaches, the distorted nightmares, and even the vivid dreams started shortly after the car chase in Moscow.

Papa was the one who came to my rescue. The crew hunting me in Russia was relentless. If Papa hadn’t gotten me out of the city when he did, I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t be part of this family now. He’d been right to ask me not to dwell on whatever happened before I came here. I had to move on.

But now that Donata was here. I wanted more. I wanted her more than anything else. Also, I wanted a family, a life of my own. When I reached the library door, I dug into the inside pocket of my suit jacket and fished out two pills. I popped them in my mouth and barged in.

Papa stood by the fireplace with his back to the rest of the room, while Ivan and Tore poured drinks from the bar. Boris and his brother were at the conference table tied to their chairs. I removed my suit jacket and laid it over the back of the sofa, facing Papa. I rolled up my sleeves and clocked Yaroslav square on the nose. They knew why we were here. They didn’t need introductions. The cracking noise it made didn’t ease the anger pooling in the pit of my stomach. I hit him again and again, until Papa’s voice cut through the rage in my head.

“Enough, Maxim.” He put up his hand. “What is it they say? Dead men tell no tales?” He chuckled. “We need them to tell us who else was infected by Dominic’s lies.”

“There were more?” I glanced at Papa then Ivan.

“Yeah.” Ivan handed me a drink and a gun, then sipped from his own. “The night you got shot. I saw five men in the van. It was dark. I couldn’t see their faces. But there were more than these two assholes.”

“Dominic was planning a coup.” I stuffed my handgun in the waistband of my pants.

“Thanks to you, he didn’t get to execute his plan.” He shook his head, while glaring at Boris and Yaro. “I treated you like my own sons. And this is the payment I get?”

“You left us with nothing.” Boris met his gaze.

“Shut up.” I punched him. “Belly aching is not going to help you. Show Papa the respect he’s owed and tell us who else was involved.”

“It was just the two of us.” Yaro pursed his lips, lifting his chin with pride.

Papa chuckled, interlacing his fingers behind his back. “Someone of consequence.” He braced his hand on my shoulder, pointing at the two men. “They’re protecting their new boss.”

“Fucking assholes. New boss? Who?” Ivan threw his empty tumbler at them.

“Dominic is dead.” I raised my eyebrows, looking at Papa. “Who else would be stupid enough to go against you?”

“I’ll tell you who.” Ivan stomped to the roaring fire Papa had been tending to when I walked in and grabbed the poker sitting in the flames.

Without preamble, he smashed it against Yaro’s thigh. Yaro’s screams filled the library with a jabbing pitch that singed the nerve behind my eye. I pressed my fingers to my temple to ease the throbbing there. I had hoped this part would go quick. The last thing I had on my mind for tonight was torturing a pair of ungrateful mother fuckers.

“Papa took you in when you were a fucking kid. You were nothing. He made you what you are today.” Ivan seared Yaro’s leg again,

“That’s enough Ivan. Yaro wants to get back into my good graces. I can see it. He will tell us now.” Papa leaned toward him and gestured for Yaro to speak. “Go on, son.”

For all of Yaro’s bravado, when Papa mentioned an opportunity to get back into the fold, his eyes widened as he looked to Boris. Boris turned to Papa as if asking, ‘can we really return?’

I stood back and folded my arms over my chest. I’d seen Ivan torture men to get information out of them. But in the end, Papa was always the one to get them to talk. He had a way of getting everyone around him to do what he wanted. His methods were how he rose to power when he was so young.

He focused his attention on Boris now. After the beating I gave him upstairs, he could barely keep his left eye open. He blinked and lifted his head to meet Papa’s gaze. Boris was scared shitless, which was why I didn’t understand how he found the balls to shoot at me.

“Dominic started talking to the Pakhan in Chicago. After our dealings with the Italians fell through in Jersey. They reached out to Dominic,” Yaro blurted out.

“Shut up.” Boris glared at his brother.

“Look at us,” Yaro yelled at him with tears in his eyes. “We’re done for.”

“That you are.” I perched myself on the edge of the table, facing Papa. “They figured we were weak after we lost a warehouse and all that territory.”

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