Page 6 of Obsessed Bratva King

I blink. “You’re Russian mafia?”

“This one—” he points to an elaborate cathedral inked onto his ribs, “—means I’ve served time.”

“Prison?”

Another hum. “In Siberia.”

I swallow, suddenly aware of just how dangerous this man is. “For what?”

The smirk returns. “Getting caught.”

I roll my eyes. “Helpful.” I point to a script tattoo curling around his side. “And this?”

He hesitates. Just for a second. Then, quieter, “It says ‘Honor or death.’”

I stare at him. “Who are you?”

“Ivan Stepanov. Why were you running from Darren Pinchon?”

“You know him?”

He taps the gauze. Need to let this seal up for a while.” He looks up at me. “A friend of mine stole something from Darren. He was bringing it to me when he got himself shot.”

“What was it?”

“I’ve no idea. He sent me a photo of a duffel bag, said it was inside, said it was worth millions. Told me to look out for it if they got him. I told him he’d be safe. I was wrong.”

“What happened?”

“Darren killed him. I walked into an ambush. Darren’s goons killed two of my men. I find out where that asshole lives and get there in time to find him running after some woman. A woman carrying the bag I’m looking for. I get shot and that brings us up to date. Where’s the bag?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He smiles coldly. “Sure. How long have you known Darren?”

“A week.”

“A week?” His eyebrows quirk upwards.

I nod. “I was begging and he gave me twenty, then told me he knew somewhere I could get warm and dry. I wouldn’t normally say yes but it was so cold that night. Ended up at his place and he was a perfect gentleman, didn’t try anything. Let me stay on his spare bed, fed me, found me some clothes.”

“So why’d you run away if he was so good to you?”

“He brought some men over tonight. I heard them talking. They said they were going to fuck me, then sell me to a brothel.”

His eyes flash something but it’s gone in an instant. “Italian mafia scum. The Bratva would never treat a woman that way.” He shakes his head. “If he’s into trafficking, it looks like he’s trying to fill the gap Lombardi left when he died.”

I freeze. “Lombardi? Who’s that?”

He nods once. “Vito Lombardi, mob boss over in New York. No heirs. His death left a vacuum in a lot of cities. I’m here making sure the Bratva take over Chicago before someone else can.”

“You think Darren wants to be a mob boss?”

“I’d never heard of the piece of shit up until a week ago but all kinds are crawling out of the woodwork to take over from Lombardi. My job’s to make sure none of them get very far.”

He lunges past me so fast I don’t see it happening until he’s got hold of the bag, dragging it out of the hiding place. “This the bag you’ve not got?” he says, pulling it open.

Money spills out. He frowns. “He killed Vlad for this?” He empties the bag completely, running his hands over it. “Doesn’t make any sense. Can’t be more than twenty thousand. Real notes. What the fuck?”

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