Pakhan's Rose (Pakhan #1)(27)
Laughing, I patted his shoulder. "Then we are on the same page, my friend."
Winking, he begged, "Just make sure to let your man know about it." Resting my head on the window, my eyes closed as I slowly was lulled to sleep with the knowledge that I became independent, and that freedom loosened the tight knots inside me that had been there for far too long.
Dominic
The doors flew open as I barged inside the hospital, menace written all over my face, with Vitya and Michael hot on my heels.
The nurse at reception greeted me with a hesitant smile, but I didn't even bother speaking to her on my way to the elevators. "Sir, you cannot go there before-"
Not having patience for her shit, I said through my teeth, "Michael." He nodded and went to her, probably showing IDs and explaining the purpose of our visit. Clicking a few times in frustration on the button, the elevator finally settled on the first floor, and I entered with Vitya barely making it inside. Pressing the fifth floor button, I desperately tried not to lose my shit, although rage threatened to explode through my every pore.
"Dominic, calm down."
My reaction was instant. Grabbing Vitya by the neck, I slammed him hard against the wall. "Know your place." No emotion passed through his face. "Stop telling me what to do." I let go in time for the ding, so when the door opened, I flew outside, quickening my steps and finally reaching room 524.
My hands clenched into fists as my eyes scanned the body lying on the bed. Machines attached to his mouth, heart, hands, fucking everything, beeped around him.
Radmir's head was wrapped in a white bandage. His chest rose and fell slightly, and a pulse indicator showed a slow but steady heartbeat. His face was yellow-green from all the beating. His chest had several knife wounds, while both his legs had casts.
Dima called me with the news that Radmir had been beaten up and stabbed-almost to death. Fortunately, one of the guards saved his ass just in time. I couldn't believe the fucking words. Immediately, I flew to Houston in my private plane with Vitya and Michael, who put my plan with Rosa on hold as long as Anton had eyes on her, making sure my woman stayed safe.
Spinning around, I came face-to-face with Dima and Vitya who stood outside waiting for me to speak. "Who did it? And how the fuck did this happen?" I addressed Dima, who winced.
"Nobody knows. He just got back from isolation. Everything was fine during the day, but then last night, he was attacked by five inmates, and as hard as he fought, he was powerless against their knives and baseball bats."
Anger boiled like fucking lava through my veins. "Where the fuck were the guards? They had to have plenty of time to put him in this condition!"
His expression turned grim, as his lips thinned. "Apparently, they didn't see shit through the surveillance camera, and when one of them passed by, that's when it stopped."
"A setup," Vitya stated, and Dima nodded. "No doubt about it. Someone wanted him dead." They both shared a look then raised their eyes to me, and I didn't have to wonder what they were thinking.
Killing him was a message for me. Someone was after the pakhan of the Bratva. "Any ideas?" I snapped, desire to avenge my friend running high. "I need names and now. Whoever is behind this is dead. And I'll be the one pulling the trigger." No one fucked with the Bratva, and sure as fuck, no one fucked with my sovietnik.
Once again, they shared a fucking look, before Vitya carefully started, "Dominic-" However, he was interrupted by a female's horrified gasp as she stood in front of Radmir's bed with her hands covering her mouth as a single tear slid down her cheek. She was a brown-haired beauty with vivid blue eyes.
Vivian Jackson in the flesh.
How the hell did she slip inside? And why would she come in the first place? She betrayed him and us on that day she refused to acknowledge her connection to our man, and then married another son of a bitch.
She gently ran her fingers over his forehead, but then quickly snatched them back as if it burned her. Exhaling a calming breath, her eyes met mine as determination filled them. Slowly walking toward us, she extended her hand with a vanilla-colored envelope to me. "You are Dominic Konstantinov, right?" she whispered, and at my nod, continued, "This … this will save his life." She licked her dry lips. "Please use it."
Dima snorted, distaste written all over him. "Why should we believe you? You put him in prison in the first place."
She stepped back as though he slapped her. "What?" she asked in disbelief, but I didn't get the chance to study her confusion as a small child raced inside, screaming, "Mama, why are you crying?" The boy had to be around four years old, and my men were stunned speechless as he resembled Radmir, from his brown hair to his gray eyes. A mini version of him. It was one thing to know about his existence, and another to see him. Vitya kept tabs on the boy, making sure he was treated well.
Vivian picked him up, hugged him close, and practically threw the envelope at me. "Use it. And never tell him about me." With that, she darted outside, coming and going in a flash.
"Well that was certainly interesting," Vitya muttered, as Dima scanned the papers she gave me, and then he shook his head, as though he couldn't believe his own eyes. "It's a statement."
"Statement?"
"She basically provided him an alibi for the night the killing happened. With this, they will have no grounds for keeping him for long." He immediately starting calling various places and arranging Radmir's release.
Despite being confused as fuck with Vivian's sudden change of heart, or the fucking tears, I focused back on the current problem. "Who, Vitya?"
He cleared his throat, and said, "Cosa Nostra, Dominic."
Don Giovanni sent his dogs to kill my sovietnik as a message for me not to touch his daughter? "He just declared war," I replied calmly, all traces of me honoring our agreement gone. "All the people involved in the attack … I want them to suffer unbearable pain before suffocating them to death. Find suitable people for the job." Vitya nodded, although his intense stare didn't escape me. He clearly didn't know how I would proceed with Don himself after Vitya, so many times, managed to calm down my temper to play by the rules.
And where did it lead us? No-fucking-where.
Killing Don wasn't an option, considering he was the father of the woman who belonged to me.
But sure as fuck, he'd never see his daughter again as long as he fucking lived.
Man with the dragon tattoo
"Book plane tickets, first class, for Lorenzo and Rosa," I ordered into the phone, holding it between my neck and shoulder while my hands adjusted various wires on the bombing device.
"For when?"
Glancing at the clock, I counted the hours it would take for the pakhan to get on board with all this, and said, "Tomorrow afternoon." The puppy lapped at my foot, annoying the fuck out of me, so I kicked him hard, and he bounced against the wall, whimpering.
Fucking hated those useless animals.
"Will do, boss." Not bothering to reply, I hung up then grabbed the snips and cut the yellow wire, burned the red one, and then stuck them together in an unbreakable bond. Once it was done, I scooted the chair back and searched for the damn puppy as he lay on his side, his paws covering his eyes. Wrapping my hand around its throat, I raised him to my face and smacked his muzzle hard while he tried once again to lick. "Be a good boy, doggie, and deliver my gift to Don." Adjusting the red ribbon on his neck, I threw him inside the cage as I placed the bomb inside the small box, which would be attached to his belly.
Satisfied with the results, I cracked my neck from side to side to relieve the tension and smiled widely, anticipation speeding through the blood in my veins.
Placing the detonator beside the table, I stood, whistling. Euphoria shook my whole body as I imagined the deaths tomorrow would bring.
Truly, life was nothing but endless bliss.
"Kneel, toy," Alfred ordered, already wearing his favorite sweatpants, or at least grey was the only color he wore. They hung low on his abdomen, and disgusting wrinkled skin with several tattoos was visible.
When I was seven years old, he loved me to lick them or trace them with my tongue right before he'd slap me so hard my face would tilt to the side and my upper lip would split. He loved to taste my blood there as he mushed our mouths for a deep kiss, and slapped me even harder when I didn't know what he wanted from me.
Then his rough fucking would begin.
Eight years had passed and nothing had changed. Glancing to the side, I noticed the usual ropes, chains, and cuffs on the stool ready to be used on my abused flesh.
Not again.
Never again.
For the first time in this life, I spoke without being asked to. "Can I take you in my mouth instead?" His brows lifted, but at the same time, a dark expression of hunger settled in his eyes as he licked his lips while his eyes trailed to my full ones. A fact I was aware of only because he had constantly repeated it through the years. "You want to do it all of a sudden?" he asked suspiciously, and I nodded eagerly, trying not to wince at the pleasant smile slowly spreading on his face. He sat down on the corner of the sofa, spread his legs, and motioned for me to start the thing he was looking forward to.