Wicked Mafia Prince: A dark mafia romance (Dangerous Royals Book 2) (23 page)

“Wait,” she says, breaking me from my reverie. “Wait.”

I slow. “What?”

I’m surprised to see her eyes so clear and bright. Her eyes are usually unfocused by now, drifting into the mind-numbing sensation we both so love.

Now she sees me.

I don’t like it. I feel naked suddenly—more naked than I ever have before.

“Slow,” she says.

I suck in a ragged breath. “Slow? Slow is…”
Too much
, I want to say,
too frightening.

“I want to feel you,” she says. “
You
.”

It breaks me a little bit.

“Please.”

I hesitate, but she watches my eyes so trustingly. Depending on me. I move my trembling hand from her neck to her cheek. “Like this?”

“Like that.”

I close my eyes and move into her slowly. I don’t know how to do it—it’s too much. But I pull out and press in, loving her nakedly, shaking with every slow thrust.

“Open your eyes,” she whispers. “Let me see you.”

I want to say that I can’t. But it’s too much truth to say it, and it’s too much truth to look at her. I think she’ll see what I’ve done to her, and it’s all too much truth.

Eventually, somehow, I force myself to gaze at her.

The affection in her gaze overwhelms me, and dimly I realize that the tears on her cheeks are mine. I’m fucking her and crying.

I know that I should let her go, to bring her back to the convent, the one place she had peace.

But I can’t.

“Forgive me,” I grate out, burying myself in her goodness.

“It’s okay, Viktor.”

“It’s not.”

She arches under me, pulling me into her. She’s coming. I know it before she does. Her sex clenches around me, milking me. She cries out, pure as a bell.

I hold her, kiss her as she comes. I hold her until the last shudder leaves her body.

Afterwards I come, quick and violent. I collapse beside her.

We lie side by side. It’s almost like old times until she sits up and sucks in a great gasping breath.

“Tanechka?”

She draws her slim legs to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks, pants bunched at her ankles, chain leading out.

“Tata?”

She regards me uncomprehendingly.

I move toward her, thinking to embrace her, but she pushes me away, then clasps her knees once again. Her voice sounds gravelly, dredged from the center of her. “What have I done?”

I follow the line of her gaze to the Jesus icon.

“The light,” she says. “The sweetness. I’ve forgotten it all!”

My heart twists.

“What have I done?”

“It was me who did it,” I say. “
My
fault, not yours.”

She shakes her head, but it’s true. I chained her up. Gave her booze. Fucked her while she was drunk. Choked her when she resisted, knowing what it would do to her mind. Threw her into Daliani Gorge.

She looks wild, almost—feral with grief.

It cracks me open. That and the slow sex—it all cracks me open.

Maybe that’s why I feel as though my heart is being ripped out again. What did I do to her? “It’s my fault. Please—I’ll take you back to Donetsk.”

Tearfully she shakes her head.

“It’s my fault, Tanechka, not yours. I did this.”

“Killing and fucking and drinking? I did it.”

“I’m the one who betrayed you. The gorge—”

She bats my hand away. “Unchain me. Let me go to the church and confess.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“More dangerous than this?”

I’m not sure how to answer that.

“I did this. I did it all,” I say.

Tires squeal nearby. The sound of vehicles converging. These aren’t the regular sounds of this neighborhood. I grab my phone and text Yuri with a “?”.

Nothing back.

A tingle runs up my spine. I pull on my clothes and my holster. “Get dressed, Tanechka.”

She looks up at me, so small, so tearful.

“We may have to leave.”

She doesn’t budge.

“You want me to take you out of here naked?” I shrug as if I don’t care. As if the world’s not crashing down around my heart.

Downstairs a door bangs. No—it’s a shoulder. People trying to get in.

“Put on your clothes!” I bound down the stairs, piece drawn. I nearly collide with Pityr coming up.

“The American Russians,” he says. “They’ve turned.”

“What?”

He tosses me my rifle and pushes me back up. “We’re surrounded. Yuri was hit—only in the shoulder.”

“Where is he?”

“Out of here. Safe.”

My phone goes off. Aleksio. “I’m coming, Viktor. Hold them off.”

Tanechka has pulled her clothes back on, thankfully. I throw Pityr the keys to her ankle cuff, and I run to the weapons safe. I grab two grenades and a nine and get to the window. They haven’t gotten in yet. The Russians reinforced this condo—steel construction techniques. Their own cleverness foils them.

“What’s going on?” Tanechka asks.

“Stay down, close your eyes, and plug your ears!” I break the window glass with the butt of the rifle. Then I crouch and pull the pin from the grenade. “Ears!” I say again.

When her ears are safely covered, I toss it and crouch.

Alarmed voices. The sound of men scrambling. The blast of a grenade shakes the floor. I straighten up and start shooting, clearing the street. Pityr takes up position on the other side, taking people out. Tanechka eyes the Glock.

“No,” I say. “Not for you.” Sirens sound in the distance.

This is very bad. If the American Russians turned, it’s Bloody Lazarus who turned them. The cops won’t be interested in saving us. The cops may be interested in fighting us, too.

I take a few more shots. Fire is returned. Windows break. The beautiful nest I made for my Tanechka is going to burn.

“Aleksio has a bulletproof Hummer,” I say. “He’s coming.”

Tanechka nods. I wonder whether I could put a gun in her hand. She used to be so fierce in a fight like this. Dependable. Black cap on her head covering the bright target of her hair. Would her body still remember? It remembers so much.

But I’ve damaged her enough today. “Stay down.”

I suck in a breath and rise up to shoot again. They were supposed to be our brothers, these Russians. I should’ve been more attentive. I should’ve seen this.

This is on me. And if Yuri is hurt…

More shoulders slamming the door below. A window breaks.

“The roof,” I say to Pityr. “We torch this place and take the roof. The way Tanechka did. Okay? Tanechka, you ready?”

She nods, goes to the fireplace. She’ll start the blaze. She knows to do this. Is she remembering it all?

I call Aleksio. “How far are you?”

“Two minutes,” he says.

“We’re going over the rooftops to Reston Ave.”

“Neva Street is better,” Tanechka says.

“Scratch that—Neva Street,” I say. “Come up the south alley.” We talk tactics. I’m going to lob out another grenade. I nod at Tanechka, and she sets the bedspread on fire.

“
Davay davay davay
,” Pityr calls from across the hall, wanting us to hurry. “On your call.”

“You first—with Tanechka.”

“No. I’ll stay!”

“You first!” He doesn’t like me doing the suppressing because it means I’ll be the last up. It means I’ll be in the most danger. But I’m his superior. He’ll obey.

And this is how I best protect Tanechka—by giving her and Pityr the best cover to run the roof. It cannot be otherwise.

“Now!”

Tanechka leads the way to the attic. The fire’s spreading. I stay.

When I hear them punch out the window up there, I begin strafing, clearing the street. When I can no longer see through the smoke, I run to the hall and head up to the attic.

I cough. My eyes water. I waited too long, but I know where the window is. I climb up and out. Once on the roof, I hurl the grenade. Then I run.

I meet them hanging over the fire escape.

I cough, catching my breath. “Go!”

We climb down.

Aleksio screams up to us. Tanechka drops first—right onto the hood like a pro. Pityr goes next.

Gunfire from the corner.

Aleksio shoves open his door and starts shooting up the street. I go for it, dropping down. I feel the wind of a bullet near my leg. I get the fuck down onto the street and in.

Aleksio roars off before we even get the doors closed. The back window cracks under the impact of multiple rounds. I spin around. “Tanechka?”

“Get the fuck down!” Aleksio says.

“Tanechka?”

“I’m okay,” she says, wide-eyed, crouched.

I slide back around. “Where’s Yuri?”

“With Mischa,” Aleksio said. “He’s fine. He was across the street when they surrounded the place. They started taking guys out and got it. Check yourself, brother.”

“I’m okay,” I say.

We get on a main drag out of the city. Aleksio tells me he’s been trying Konstantin. No answer.

“He’s okay,” I say, but really, it’s just that he has to be. “We’re the only ones who know where he is. Probably out with his ducks.” Still, it’s worrisome.

There are many stoplights, some of them red. Aleksio goes through one, then another. We gun it, putting in the distance, heading for Konstantin’s place.

“Listen to me—they didn’t send Kiro to Stillwater prison,” Aleksio says. “He was sent to Oak Park Heights. Criminally insane shit. Don’t forget it.”

My heart thunders for what Aleksio doesn’t say. If one of us is killed, it’s up to the other to get to Kiro. “We’ll get him together.”

“Right. Here’s the thing—he was sent there but he’s not listed. Maybe under an alias. We have to figure it out. That’s where we are with it.”

“We’ll get him,” I growl. “If I have to burn the place down myself.”

“Maximum security. Can’t go in hot. Gotta go in smart.”

We’re heading past Lombard when red cherries light behind us.

“Fuck,” Aleksio says. Chances are good that they’re not after us because of our traffic violations. “Don’t worry—I’m gassed up.”

“Gotta get clear before the choppers come out,” I say, stating the obvious.

He guns it down a main artery. That’s when we see the train.

“Fuck,” Pityr says.

“This is good. We can do this.” Aleksio races up the frontage road, racing the thing with the cops hot on our trail.

Aleksio loves to call me a madman. He’s no different.

We get almost level with the engine when we come to the crossing, a line of cars stretched out, like a wall in front of us, stretching out to our right, the train coming up on the left. I spin around in my seat. “Hold on,
lisichka
.”

I don’t have to tell her. She’s wide-eyed, holding on to the door handle and the back of the seat. Pityr’s riding with a stony face. He, too, holds on.

“Here we go!” Aleksio veers left over the tracks in front of the oncoming train, barely clearing it.

The train barrels by behind us, a thundering wall of steel between the cops and us.

For now.

“We have to ditch this vehicle,” Pityr says. “This Hummer is burned, burned, burned.”

“Agreed.”

Moments later, Aleksio pulls into a commuter parking lot. It’s perfect—many cars nobody will miss for hours.

We all jump out. Pityr hotwires a Mazda. I go to Tanechka. “Are you okay?”

She looks up at me, as if she doesn’t comprehend the question. It’s a stupid question, yes. She’s lost everything—again. Because of me.

I say nothing. There’s just surviving for now. I make her get in the back with Pityr. I take the wheel with Aleksio at my side.

“What happened?” Aleksio asks quietly, tipping his head at Tanechka in the back. She talks with Pityr in low tones.

I shake my head.

He gives me a dark look, and we set off.

“The fuck,” he says after a bit.

He’s not talking about Tanechka this time; he’s talking about our Russian friends turning. Our best allies are gone—to the most powerful crime organization in the ten-state area…and they’re all united with the cops.

“I had the fucking money-laundering heist set up with them for tomorrow. We would’ve cleaned him out. It would’ve made us solid with the Russians.”

“The Russians knew about the camera.”

“Probably told Lazarus about it,” Aleksio says. “They probably took it out already.” He tips his head back. “Did they know about Tanechka?

“I don’t think so. Best to assume the worst, though.” Gangsters gossip. “This is on me,
brat
. I should have spent more time with Dmitri.”

“I missed that meeting with him,” Aleksio says. “But they hated Lazarus. Uniting with Lazarus…what the fuck is that? This is us underestimating Lazarus. It stops now.”

“Him going after us shows he doesn’t know where Kiro is,” I say. “We’ll go to this prison and take Kiro. Together the Dragusha brothers will rain fire on Bloody Lazarus. And we’ll have our empire back. At least the brothel pipeline has nearly collapsed,” I say. “We’re just waiting for the word from Kiev.”

We switch vehicles a few miles later, nabbing a nice SUV. We head south to Konstantin’s quiet senior village.

Whispering trees line shady sidewalks. Low-rise brick buildings stretch for entire blocks. One unit has the door swinging open.

Konstantin’s unit.

My heart drops.

Aleksio tears into the driveway and jams it into park. He’s out of the car, running for the door before any of us can move.

I take out my Glock and twist around to Pityr and Tanechka in the back seat. Pityr has his weapon out.

Tanechka’s blue eyes are wide. “Stay here until we make sure it’s clear,” I say to her.

I get out of the vehicle in a haze.

Konstantin is dead. I don’t need to see his body to know. I don’t need to hear Aleksio’s cry of rage and anguish from inside the door.

Pityr and I move in opposite directions along the fronts of the low-rise homes, covering the drives and the carefully tended grass with long, quick strides, weapons down at our thighs. We converge around the back. The ducks quack.

We head in.

The old man is on the foyer floor, a pool of blood under his cheek, gun in his hand, the back of his head blown off. Aleksio is on his knees next to him, his head on the old man’s chest.

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Stay,” I say. “We’ll clear.”