Page 21 of Married to the Don (Kornilov Bratva Duet 1)

Viktor

Greg takes the hint and stays out of my sight for the rest of the night. I reschedule a few of my meetings to take place at the Twin Chandeliers. I don’t want to get too far from Molly. Not until I know what my next move is.

The motels are a perfect front for backdoor firearm sales. The police come sniffing around every so often in search of traffickers or prostitution, but they don’t expect to find guns and ammunition in the bulk toilet paper boxes. The operation works because we’re hiding in plain sight.

“I didn’t ask for any of these,” I say, gesturing lazily to a crate of handguns.

“They’re a bonus,” the man says, his Russian accent thick, though I know he has been living in the city for over ten years. He sold weapons to my father as well.

“They’re extra, you mean. You’re trying to give me your scraps and make a pretty penny while you’re at it.”

He opens and closes his mouth, trying to dispute my claims, but he can’t.

I hold up a hand to silence him before he can even try to lie. “I don’t care that you’re trying to unload your leftovers on me, but I do care that you’re charging me full price for them.”

“They’re all good guns. Shoot straight, no serials. Completely scrubbed.”

“And they’ll be completely useless to you unless you bring the price down by half.”

The man grinds his back teeth together, jaw clicking back and forth, thinking. He’s annoyed at the deal, but he knows I won’t give him any better. Some of my men claim I’m too lenient because I’d rather compromise than smash someone’s face in. But they don’t see the business side of things. They don’t see how much money I save the Bratva, how many business relationships I foster by being firm but fair.

Well, not entirely fair. The weapons are worth their full price, but I don’t want anyone to think the Kornilov Bratva picks up scraps like a street dog. The man is losing money because he didn’t show me and my operation the proper respect, so this is a kind of fairness. In a way.

“Fine,” the man agrees, looking longingly at the box next to him. “I’ll take half.”

I thank him for his business and instruct him and another of my men to carry the box to the storage room. There, the guns will be discreetly packaged and shipped to our other motels across the city to be sold and distributed.

The kid who replaced Greg at the front desk comes in to tell me Molly ordered a value meal from the hamburger place next door. She could have ordered an entire lobster dinner if she wanted, and I wouldn’t have cared. But she probably didn’t even think to do anything that lavish. Considering she’d planned for the snack tray in the lobby to be her dinner, the hamburger probably is a five-star meal compared to what she’s used to.

Still, I’m glad she ordered something. It means she’s getting comfortable here.

I plan to do the same.

“Give her whatever she wants for the rest of the night,” I say as I grab my leather jacket from the back of my chair and shrug it on. “I’m going to bed.”

“You want me to stay all night?” he asks with a smile, though I notice the way he glances at the clock. It’s already almost midnight.

“I’ll pay you double your hourly wage.”

His eyes widen like he’s won the lottery, and he gives me a thumbs-up. “Aye, aye.”

“Don’t do that.”

He smiles sheepishly and asks if there is anything else he can do for me. “Your suite has been readied to your specifications.”

“Then no, I don’t need anything else.”

He nods, and I turn off the lights and take the maintenance elevator up to the fourth floor.

The space just above the lobby is reserved for two floors of offices and then a suite on the top floor. It isn’t a luxurious suite by any means. It shares the same dingy vibe as the rest of the motel, but it’s spacious, has a mattress that was purchased within the last five years, and a Jacuzzi in the bathroom. I don’t use the space much because I’d rather just sleep at home, but I don’t want to give Molly the chance to disappear.

The door is unlocked when I get there, and when I open it, I realize why.

Your suite has been readied to your specifications.

My specifications—as written by me three years prior—are to have a woman waiting for me at the end of every deal. And there she is, sprawled across the bed.

“Hello,” she purrs, curling her fingers in a wave.

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