Page 15 of Den of Thieves

“Because now isn’t the best time,” Nikolai replied with forced patience.

He foolishly thought the relationship with the mother of his child would be better, not worse, after her cancer was in remission and they agreed on co-parenting his son, Jonah. Instead, it seemed the closer the Bratva got to imploding, the clingier Sydney became.

“Is it—you’ve met someone,” she surmised on the other end of the phone.

Nikolai pinched the bridge of his nose as he stepped into the elevator. “No, Sydney. Jeez, it’s not safe right now. It would be in everyone’s best interest if you two stayed on the boat someplace warm until I say otherwise.”

Nikolai steeled himself for her hard-headed rebuttal. He couldn’t give himself the satisfaction of returning Sydney’s feelings. Yes, their bond flourished in the past year, but he wouldn’t risk his family’s lives at an off chance of rekindling.

Besides, many conversations needed to happen before he would even entertain the thought of a long-lasting relationship with the woman that had him beat senseless before attempting to rob him blind. As much as he tried to ignore it, Sydney’s antics fucked with more than just his psyche.

He hasn’t had sex since.

“Things are really that bad?”

“Worse.”

The line went silent for a beat.

“Nikolai I—”

“I’ll call you later. I’m late for a meeting.”

He hung up as he entered the large conference room in Vladimir’s newest office building. He purchased it for a bargain after the shipping company that previously operated within its walls went belly up. That same fleet was doing well under new leadership and is proving to be one of Vladimir’s most profitable assets.

The shipyard was conveniently located on the Moscow River that led into the Caspian Sea. It was close enough to home yet secluded enough to allow those inside to see trouble from miles away. The latter advantage made it the perfect place for the Bratva King’s secure new war room.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

Vladimir’s most trusted pakhan’s sat around the long table. Vladimir sat at the head, with their cousins Daniil, Dean and David Kovalyov to his left. The three looked identical, but Nikolai could tell them apart with ease.

Daniil had a long pink scar on the side of his face. For all his stoicism, he was the most likable out of the three. Dean called himself a ladies’ man, but no one’s ever seen him not be rejected by the opposite sex. David was the oldest and the resident hot head of the bunch. He swore his allegiance, but Nikolai would never trust his cousin for raising hell after Vladimir was named Gustaf’s successor.

Dimitri sat to Vladimir’s right. Kristoff Drukov sat next to him with a frown on his face. His twin brother Alexi was off handling a problem in Hungary that could not be ignored. If there was anyone in this room that you didn’t want to piss off, it was Kristoff. The man had a grudge list a mile long and took pleasure in serving it damn near frozen.

Boris Putneg rounded out the bunch. The former rugby player was known far and wide for his brutish ways of doling out justice. Nikolai didn’t care for him much, but Vladimir respected him. Once you earned the King’s respect, it was rare you lost it.

The pakhans looked to Nikolai with varying degrees of expectance as he strode to his seat. Nikolai decided not to beat around the bush.

“Antiny Belyaev was found dead in his home this morning. Before you ask, he wasn’t poisoned or ambushed. He had a heart attack. His wife was beside herself.”

“Why were you there?” Vladimir asked.

“He used to be my neighbor. Maria called me before the law.”

Vladimir nodded. The men were silent for a moment.

“Why is it every time I see your face, someone dies?” David asked.

“The same reason women run the opposite direction laughing when you pull down your pants. Merely a coincidence,” Nikolai said without hesitation. He never liked David’s brash attempts at humor.

Daniil burst out in laughter and Dean choked on his water.

“Damn, that’s cold, even for you, Nisha,” Vladimir smirked.

“Are you ornery bastards ready to start the meeting or what?” Dimitri snapped.

“Der’mo. Check your number two, cousin,” Daniil chuckled. “Chey-to rebenok nassal v sup.” Someone’s kid pissed in his soup.

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