Page 4 of Sergei
Our father raised us in the shadow of the bratva. Power wasn’t earned. It was taken, and it was kept by holding a knife to the world’s throat. The men I’d grown up around were wolves. They were trained to bite before they were even hungry and were nothing like what I imagined bikers to be. Drunken, unshaven men who start bar fights over pool games.
They weren’t the kind of men I would trust with a multi-million-dollar casino, much less the Volkov name. Not ready togive in, I shook my head and grumbled,“This whole thing is nonsense.”
“People here aren’t going to forget what you did,"Nikolai continued, softer now."They’re always gonna remember you forced them out of their homes and shut down family businesses. You thought it was over when you signed on that dotted line, but it wasn’t for them. It was just the beginning.”
“They’re not like us,” I added. “They don’t understand our world.”
He only smiled. It was the kind of smile that said he knew something I didn’t. And damn if he wasn’t right.
The first time I met Preacher and his boys, I expected swagger and empty promises. Instead, I got steel-eyed resolve. The kind you can’t begin to fake. They walked in like they didn’t have anything to prove. They listened before they spoke, and when they did actually speak, every word meant something.
And when trouble arose, and it did, they handled it without question.
These men had power. There was no doubt about that. But it was a different kind of power than I was used to. It was nothing like the bratva. Preacher and his club were both feared and respected. They would stand up to anyone who stood in their way or threatened their brotherhood, but there were lines they wouldn’t cross.
They remained loyal to their brothers, their president, and their women, no matter what the cost. It wasn’t my way, but for them, it worked. They’d managed to turn things around for us, and they’d done it without slitting throats or wiping out family trees.
The numbers on the spreadsheets proved it.
I was pulled from my thoughts when Preacher cleared his throat and said, “Things are going well, and if the past few weeks are any indication, they will continue to do well.”
“I certainly hope so.”
Creed was always thinking one step ahead, so I wasn’t surprised when he asked, “Has there been anything more from your buddy about someone sniffin’ around?”
The air in the room stilled. I leaned back in my chair and tried to sound unbothered as I answered, “I’m looking into it.”
The memory of the phone call had haunted me since it happened.
I’d been at my condo, working on inventory, when my phone lit up with a number I hadn’t seen in years. I shouldn’t have answered. Every instinct told me to just let the past rot where it belonged and let it ring.
But curiosity got the best of me, and I picked up.
The voice on the other end was Lev, one of my old confidants and now a trusted contact from back in New York. He was someone who’d once worked as an errand boy for my father and later for me. He hadn’t followed when we left, but he’d stayed loyal all the same. I hadn’t even answered when he boasted, “Sergei, old friend.”
His Russian was rough and gravely from too many cigarettes and bad decisions, and it set me on edge. “What do you want, Lev?”
“Always so grumpy, like your father.”
“Do you have something to tell me or are you looking to have your ass kicked?”
“Oh, so grumpy,” he snickered. Before I had a chance to bite back, he announced, “I have news.”
“I’m listening.”
“Word is some local recruits have a growing interest in what you have going on with that casino of yours. They feel they can benefit from your success.”
His words hit harder than they should have. My brothers and I had wiped our hands and walked away from the bratva monthsago. We’d even given them proof that our Uncle Vasili was stealing from the family, and it bought us some breathing room.
But breathing room wasn’t freedom, not in that world. The family doesn’t forget, and they certainly don’t forgive. “They’re getting their ten percent. They’re not getting any more.”
“These recruits aren’t from the family.”
“Don’t care who they are. They can fuck off.”
“Be careful, friend.” There was no missing the concern in his voice when he added,“They’re inching closer every day. I’m afraid this quiet life you’ve got right now isn’t going to last.”
“I need names and any connections they might have, and I need it now.”
