Page 11 of Born into Blood

My Uncle Vitaly raises a brow at me, hands frozen with his burger almost to his lips. “And what was that?” he asks, daring me to say that he’d whined like a goddamn baby for a full twenty minutes, bemoaning his fucked-up hamburger and how the lack of extra pickles made it taste like shit.

“You weren’t happy,” I say, trying like hell to keep a straight face.

“The pickle-to-hamburger ratio is a thing of art, Luka. They never add enough pickles on their own, and it throws everything off balance. Did I ever tell you I once ordered a hamburger and they gave me two pickles?”

He looks appalled at the memory, the same way he looks every time he tells this story.

“Two,” he says again in utter disbelief. “What the hell am I supposed to do with two goddamn pickles?”

“Well, this one’s loaded up,” I remind him, trying to save him from the downward spiral of improper hamburger making that will only put him in a sour mood and make me have to listen to it.

He takes a large bite and smiles at me, clearly pleased with the hamburger-to-pickle ratio on this one. We’re parked outside of a rundown building in a truly nasty part of the city while we wait for the others to arrive. Tonight’s mission is an easy one. Find the fucker who’s been selling pills in our territory and take him out. No one makes a profit on these streets but us. In all fairness, he was warned to stop. He decided he’d rather die, so that’s on him.

“That girl at the club seemed to like you.”

I groan at my uncle’s not-so-subtle attempt to hook my ass up and say, “I hadn’t noticed,” before taking another bite of my own burger, grateful that he’d waited in the car and has no idea that I’d also seen her in the diner. The truth is I’d definitely noticed. The second I’d seen her she’d had my full attention, and then when that asshole had bumped into her and knocked her on the ground, I’d made sure it was my hand that helped her up. I still don’t know why in the hell I’d done that. I’d been replaying the moment over and over in my mind when I’d walked into the diner and seen her sitting all by herself at the end of the counter. Something about her draws me in, and I can’t figure it out.

I don’t like not being able to figure things out.

My life is a structured one that hinges on one thing and one thing only: Family. If you’re not a part of my family, then you’re not on my radar. When my dad was young, he and his four best friends decided to ditch the shit families they’d been born into and form their own. Brothers in blood, in life, and in death. Those words are the lifeblood of our Bratva. They’ve been instilled in us since birth, and we all live by them. They started the Melnikov Bratva back in Moscow, and then moved it to America. Now it’s the most powerful Bratva in the city, and my cousins and I are slowly being handed the reins. I’m the oldest, even if it is only by less than a year, and I take that shit seriously. My dad has drilled it into my head since birth that family is everything and should always come first.

That responsibility is exactly why I need to forget about the beautiful woman who’d looked fucking adorable scarfing down a bacon double cheeseburger while her cheeks blushed a pretty pink and her feet kicked softly against the barstool. Women are a distraction I’ve always resisted. In high school, they’d thrown themselves at me and my cousins, but I hadn’t wanted any of them. Our family’s secrets need to be kept, and I won’t let my guard down for anyone. It doesn’t matter if she has my exact taste in food, the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, or if I’m curious about why she’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt on one of the hottest days of the year.

It doesn’t fucking matter.

“You’re almost twenty,” my uncle reminds me, and when I shoot him a look, he laughs and pops another fry in his mouth. “Your dad did the same damn thing. Took on all the responsibility for the rest of us, always worrying and watching out for us.” I get a few seconds of blessed silence while he finishes off his fries, but then he ruins it by saying, “You can’t spend your life alone, Luka.”

He laughs at what he just said and shakes his head in bewilderment. “I honestly thought I’d have you thoroughly corrupted by now, and here I am giving you the you know, monogamy can be a really great thing speech. Jesus Christ, what has your aunt done to me?”

I meet his eyes. “How old were you when you married Aunt Katya? And didn’t I hear something about it being an arranged marriage, one that you absolutely did not want at the time?”

He gives me a smirk and eats the cherry from his shake. “Now you’re just being a shit.”

I laugh and shove my empty wrappers in the bag

“Your Aunt Katya is the best damn thing that ever happened to me. I had no idea how empty my life was before she came into it and threw everything on its ass, so, yeah, monogamy can be really fucking cool, and I’m not embarrassed to say it. Sometimes you don’t know what you want until it’s forced into your lap, and then you wonder how you ever survived without it.”

I watch my uncle, the grin on his face when he talks about his wife and the way his damn eyes seem to light up at the mere thought of her, and I have to remind myself that this is the same uncle I’ve seen kill a man and then open up a bag of fruit snacks while his hands are still bloody. Just like my dad and the rest of my uncles, he’s ruthless when he needs to be, but a giant puddle of emotions when it comes to his wife and kids. It’s an odd environment to be raised in, but it works for us.

“Why was it an arranged marriage?”

I’ve asked him this before, and he always side-steps the question. They can all be very tight-lipped about certain things, and anything involving his arranged marriage or the story behind my Aunt Alina’s two-year disappearance before I was born are not readily discussed. He’s about to blow off my question, but he’s saved by the flash of headlights behind us.

My uncle gives me a wink. “Let’s go get this fucker.”

I check my gun while he drains the last of his shake, and when we step out, my dad and cousins are already on the sidewalk waiting. Maxim nudges my shoulder and gives me a grin that I easily return. He may be a gifted pianist, but he’s taken to a life of crime just as easily as the rest of us. It’s in our blood. There was never a chance we’d turn out any other way. My Uncle Vitaly walks over and squeezes his son’s shoulder. Valentin is quieter than his dad. Svetlana, his twin, is the louder one. She’s like her dad in many ways, but when it comes to work, Val is just like his dad, both of them relentless and fully dedicated to whatever needs to be done.

“Everything go okay at the club?”

I look over at my dad. I’m a little taller than him, but we share the same eyes, the same straight nose, and the same intense stare and stubborn determination to take on the weight of the world.

“Yeah, it went fine. Dominic said everything’s been quiet on his side. No one’s been selling over there.”

Dominic Alessi and his mafia have been working with our Bratva since before I was born. They’ve always been on good terms, and when he married my cousin Natalya last year, it just solidified the bond our families already shared. My Uncle Lev was less than thrilled, considering he and Dominic are almost the same age, but he’s slowly coming around, especially after Isabella’s birth. He’s completely smitten with his granddaughter.

“Good,” my dad says, scanning the empty street we’re on. “Our men have eyes on the seller. He’s on the corner, one street over.”

“Let’s go have some fun,” my Uncle Vitaly says, squeezing Val’s shoulder and then leading the way.

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