Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) (22 page)

“Kirill,” another woman’s voice calls. He pauses in his tracks and turns slightly in the direction the voice came from.

My eyes follow as well and I almost gasp at the woman who is walking toward him. She’s absolutely stunning. She has raven black hair and her eyes are cool blue. She’s heavily pregnant, but only a tight basketball bump at her belly, she’s all baby. She’s wearing a pair of tight legging pants and a long, equally tight tunic style sleeved top, with platform shoes. She quickly wraps her arms around Kirill in an embrace. I’m instantly jealous when his hand rests on her belly after she pulls away from him. I hear them whisper in low, hushed tones.

“Mama, I go outside with papa,” a little boy’s voice calls. I look down to see a blond haired boy at Haleigh’s legs.

“No, Maksimilyan. The men are talking,” she says gently. He pouts before he turns away and then goes over to a basket full of toys and begins to play.

The sound of the sliding glass door closing interrupts my thoughts, and then the stunning, sable haired woman is in front of me, smiling widely.

“I’m Emiliya,” she says, offering her hand. I take it and introduce myself and then Kiska.

“Kirill has told us absolutely nothing of you, and my Radimir has said even less. I know he must know some things, but the man will not spill a word. Come tell us about yourself,” she says as she pulls me toward the sofa. Her voice is soft, but her English is broken and her Russian accent extremely apparent.

“Tell us, how did you meet our Kirill?” Haleigh asks.

My eyes slide to Kiska who is sitting next to me, excitement pouring off of her as she waits. She knows the abridged version. She knows that we met while I was in college and that we fell in love. She doesn’t know about my father and Kirill’s. I’m not sure she’ll ever know. It’s so bizarre.

“I was in college in New York, a freshman; that’s where I’m from. He bumped into me and we started dating. We were only together six months before I left,” I clear my throat, extremely uncomfortable.

“New York? That’s where I’m from,” Haleigh exclaims excitedly. “What part of the city are you from?”

“Brighton Beach,” I say. Her eyes widen. This means something to her, but I’m not sure exactly what.

“So you’re Russian. I should have known with a name like Tatyana. How silly of me.” She shakes her head. I look at her curiously but she doesn’t say anything else.

Yes, I’m Russian, as were the people in my neighborhood. But it wasn’t something that I thought odd or wrong. New York has many neighborhoods which certain ethnicities reside. That’s normal.

Later, I found out that my father paid for my mother’s apartment, so it would make sense that he would want us near his people, I suppose. I always guessed he felt more comfortable knowing we were surrounded by his culture. Even if my mother wasn’t Russian, she was what she referred to as a mutt.

“My father is Russian; my mother wasn’t,” I inform.

“So then you moved to California, why?” Emiliya asks.

I decide to tell them the truth. Kiska knows some of it. She knows that it was dangerous for us to be around her father. She doesn’t know why, but at this point, I don’t think that she will be shielded for too much longer on exactly who her father is.

“An FBI Agent told me that Kirill was dangerous—told me of the organization he was involved in, that it wouldn’t be safe for myself or my unborn baby. I had only just found out that morning that I was pregnant and I was already scared. He showed me pictures, and they were so incriminating. I was only eighteen, and he was a government officer. I chose to trust him based off of that alone, and not to ask any questions, so I ran,” I admitted. It felt good to say it all out loud.

“You didn’t kill yourself then?” Emiliya gasps.

I look at her with confusion and then it hits me. He’s told her about me. It makes me ache; he’s told this unbelievably beautiful woman about how I hurt him.

“No, Agent Green set all of that up without my knowledge,” I say.

“I don’t like that man,” Emiliya informs me.

“You know him?” I ask.

“We both do. He tried to talk me into leaving Rad when we first arrived here,” she explains. “He’s dirty, I just know it.”

I nod my agreement. I think that he is, too. He’s too focused on Kirill; he’s too deep in his obsession. Nobody that obsessed with another person is right. It’s as if he is desperate. I know what desperate people are willing to do to get what they want—
anything
.

Our conversation comes to a halt when the men walk inside. I recognize the two men with Kirill. They were in his office the day I confronted him about Sabina and their shared kiss. My cheeks instantly heat at the memory and my eyes automatically go straight to the ground. I am beyond embarrassed.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Tatyana and Kiska,
officially
. I’m Maxim,” the big, broad, tall dirty blond man says. He’s holding his hand out to me and I slip mine inside. He squeezes gently before the dark haired man to his right introduces himself as Radimir.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” I murmur trying to keep eye contact with them, but failing.

“Let’s eat then,” Haleigh calls out.

Luckily, the tension is broken for a bit as Maxim gathers the baby girl who was playing so quietly on the floor. I hadn’t even noticed her. He also picks up the sweet little boy into his big, strong arms. Emiliya and I both ask if Haleigh needs help, but she shoos us away.

Once we are all settled in, Emiliya across from me, Kiska on one side of me and Kirill on the other, I feel his hand wrap around my thigh and squeeze gently. I turn slightly to him and he offers me a wink before he takes a sip of his water.

Haleigh presents us with a gorgeous meal. It is just as her house, elegant and comforting looking. Meat, potatoes, vegetables, rolls, a salad, and a bowl of fresh fruit. It’s lovely and I tell her so. She shakes her head and smiles.

“I’m not a very good cook, but I try. If it’s all terrible we’ll order out,” she informs with a wide smile.

“I have never had a bad meal of yours, Haleigh,” Radimir informs her with a wink.

“Radimir speaks the truth. He knows what a bad meal is. He has suffered my cooking,” Emiliya grins.

We begin to dig into the meal and the conversation shifts. The men start conversing, but I don’t understand them. They keep slipping in and out between Russian and English. Haleigh and Emiliya talk as well. I’m enjoying just being around the group of friends.

They are obviously close, and I’m a bit envious as I don’t have any friends at all. I don’t think that I ever really have. I’ve always been a bit of a loner, and being uprooted and moving to California did not help anything. Agent Green pressed upon me that having anybody too close would be dangerous. Perhaps he was using my isolation as another form of manipulation.

“I could show you some basic ballet positions,” Haleigh says. I turn my focus back to the conversation.

“I would love that,” Kiska gushes.

“Ballet?” I ask.

“I used to be a professional ballerina. Kiska was asking me about it. She said she’s always been curious about dance,” Haleigh informs me. I turn to Kiska who is looking away from me, avoiding me.

“You’ve never expressed this to me, Kiska,” I say gently, not wanting to embarrass her in anyway, but it concerns me. I’ve never told Kiska she couldn’t do something. I have always tried to be supportive of whatever she’s wished to do.

“I’ve always been interested. They look so pretty up on their shoes,” she whispers. I wrap my arm around her and open my mouth to speak, but Kirill beats me to it.

“Your new school has a fine arts program, Kiska. They offer ballet. I’ll inform the headmistress that you are interested,” he states.

“Really?” she breathes.

Although I was going to offer finding a studio, I like that Kirill has been the one to offer the activity. Maybe I should be jealous that she’s looking at him like he could hang the moon, but I’m not. I’m the exact opposite. I love that they’re sharing a moment between each other. There have been too many missed moments between father and daughter; and though I know from now on they will share many, it is nice to be witness to this first beautiful one.

“Yes, of course. Whatever your heart desires, Kiska, it is yours,” he says with a wave of his hand.

“Those words could bring you troubles,” Maxim chuckles.

“No doubt,” Kirill laughs.

We spend the next few hours in the company of our friends. By the end of the evening, I consider them my friends as well. We have laughed and enjoyed wonderful conversation. Emiliya and Haleigh have invited me on a shopping and salon trip in the future. They apparently do this often. I’ve never been able to enjoy something like that, not until now. I’ve been too busy working and providing. But now, now I can enjoy life a bit more.

It’s exciting, this new life of mine, and I can’t wait for it to start.

Finally,
as it was meant to be.

I
PICK UP THE
phone, my fingers shaking as I scroll through my contacts. Ziven watches me, dipping his chin in silent encouragement. I chance one last look out at the front of the house before I press send, looking for any sign of Kirill. If he would just show up unannounced, then I could abandon this foolhardy mission.

“Here goes nothin’,” I murmur.

The phone rings and rings, before sending me to voicemail. I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to have been sent there in my life. I close my eyes as the greeting finishes and then I speak.

“Ryan, it’s Tatyana. I need to meet with you. I’m ready to talk. I need you to come to the club I’m working at now. Please come by tomorrow night. I can’t have Kirill find out I’m meeting with you.” I rattle off the address before I press the end button. My voice was shaky and I was nervous as hell. Hopefully he’ll think it was for other reasons completely, and not because I do not want to ever see him again.

“You did good,” Ziven compliments.

“Thanks,” I shrug, feeling anything but victorious.

“Nothing will happen to you, Tatyana,” he grunts.

“I hope not,” I whisper.

I watch her dance.

It’s not the first time I have seen her nude body on the stage. In fact, it’s not even the fiftieth. I went to her shows in San Francisco every single chance I had. Mainly because she’s beautiful, but also because she’s superb at her job.

One sway of her hips makes my cock hard.

I watch as she peels the flimsy bra off of her and frees her big tits.
Fuck
, I’m a tit man, and hers are spectacular—and real. Not many women have real,
big
tits anymore, but Tatyana does. And the rest of her body is solid, muscular, yet feminine and sexy as sin.

I have no doubt that I’ll be buried inside of her cunt eventually. Sooner rather than later, too. She’s called me here today, and I know that that Russian bastard must have hurt her. She’s ready to snitch on him, and I’m more than willing to take her information and then her body.

When her song ends, I wait. I want for her to come to me. For the first time, but not for the last. She’ll be coming
to
me and
for
me more often than not from now on. I’m going to make her sweat, too—beg for me. After the rejection she’s served me the past ten years, she’s going to pay for it all.