Page 106 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

“Well, now, I’m keeping her around because her boss attacked her. She needs a job and money. I can’t just dump her out the door.”

“And why the hell not?” Arslan asks. “You can do anything you want.”

I nod. “You’re right. And right now, I want to break your teeth with a fucking bat.”

Arslan tips his head back and laughs. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

I’m mostly kidding. Though my best friend is edging too close to an uncomfortable reality: I’m risking my Bratva for a woman. After I swore that is exactly what I wouldn’t do.

And I’m not entirely sure why.

The driver pulls into the parking garage beneath Zhukova Incorporated.

Then, as soon as we park, three anonymous black cars reverse out of nearby spaces and block us in. Armed men climb out of each one.

“Heads up,” Arslan warns, reaching into his waistband for a gun.

I pop open a compartment in the door and retrieve my own weapon.

“Three cars, six men,” he counts, all playfulness gone from his face. “They blocked us in because… fuck, I should have been paying attention.”

“No one would be stupid enough to take us out here,” I tell him. “There are cameras everywhere.”

“Then who is it?’

“I have my suspicions.” I grab the handle and gesture for him to fall in line. “Follow my lead.”

I step out of the car, but the row of angry men surrounding our car doesn’t move. I expected nothing less.

“Where is he?” I snarl.

Arslan is tense at my side, poised to dive in front of me if he needs to. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The suited men shift slightly and the car door behind them opens. Then Giorgos Simatou steps out, smiling from ear to ear.

"For fuck's sake," Arslan hisses, relaxing ever so slightly. "You aren't the goddamned Pope, Giorgos."

I nod in agreement. “This is quite the unnecessary show. A dangerous one, too. I could've put a bullet between the eyes of every single one of your men before you revealed yourself."

"You're smarter than that," Giorgos says. "Or I thought so, anyway."

Arslan snorts. "What the hell does that mean?"

Giorgos smiles at me like I'm a child. "Would you like to share your indiscretion, Nikolai? Or should I?”

Between one blink and the next, I lunge forward and press my gun to the man’s temple.

His men close around me, but it’s too late. Their boss will have a hole in his head before they can do a damn thing about it.

I hear Arslan laugh. "I'll kill every single one of you sons of bitches before you can even unholster your weapons. I’d think twice about making a move for my boss.”

"Don't," Giorgos repeats to them, swallowing nervously. "Stand down. This is between myself and Don Zhukova."

His men shift back warily.

“If you ever talk to me like a child again,” I hiss, “the only thing between you and me will be six feet of dirt.”

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