Page 64 of Bratva Bastard

“What the fuck is he doing here?” I asked Misha and Dimitry as we stood behind the stairs, listening to the muffled voice.

“Isn’t that your business partner?” Misha asked. “That money-launderer?”

“My mother’s,” I corrected.

But Gregori was more than that. He was the male presence in my life—the closest thing to a father figure I’d ever had, though even that was a stretch. He was more like the fun uncle who showed you how to do bad things. Where my mother showed reluctance for criminal activity, he reveled in it. She only wanted to do what was necessary, where he was willing to do anything to get what he wanted.

I’d never considered him a ruthless man, though my opinion had been swayed by the fact that I’d spent half of my life around him. But hearing his voice in Sorokin’s home, I knew the son of a bitch was up to no good.

“We need to find him,” I said, peeking around the corner, holding my ear to a door to listen.

“No,” Dimitry said, grabbing my shoulder. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

“No,” I snapped. “If Gregori is here, then he may have our mother. I’ve come too far to stop now, looked too hard, been through too much. I’m going to find her. Leave if you want, I won’t hold it against you, Dimitry. But I’m staying.”

He swished his head from side to side, as if being pulled in different directions. Groaning, he said, “Alright, fine. Let’s make this quick so we can go.”

Misha led the way, having been to this home a few times when he was younger, accompanying his father on business. Holding out a finger to silence us, he paused midstep, and pointed to a room.

I nodded, standing in the entrance. With a swift kick, I knocked down the door.

My mother sat on a bed, her wrists tied and chained to the post, as she curled into a ball, sobbing. Gregori stood next to the bed, looking down at her with a mix of remorse and satisfaction. He’d always wanted my mother, but she never had an interest in him as anything more than a business partner.

When the door flung off its hinges, Gregori jumped up, his face going blank when he saw me standing in the doorway. I grabbed the gun I’d swiped before we left the unconscious guards, aiming it at Gregori’s head. “Get her off that fucking bed,now.”

Gregori held his arms up in surrender, inching his way to the bed with his arms raised. “Okay, Maxim. Calm down. It’s me! Uncle Gregori!”

As if him pretending we were friends would make me put the gun down.

“I said get her off that fucking bed,” I snapped, holding the gun steady.

Gregori pulled out a knife and cut the ropes that had my mother trapped. Once released, she ran into my arms, her eyes growing wide when she saw Misha and Dimitry, though my focus was on Gregori.

“Fucking traitor,” I said, ready to pull the trigger, but my mother’s hand placed around the gun stopped me.

“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “Bring him home. The torture chamber in the basement might get him to tell mewhy the fuckhe took me to Sorokin’s. But don’t kill him! He’s mine to kill, and my plans aren’t a quick death, but a slow, agonizing one.”

“Alright, we have her,” Dimitry said, motioning to the hallway. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here before we see anyone else.

I spit on Gregori—the only thing I had time to do—and told him, “You will regret every transgression against my mother. Mark my words, Gregori.” We grabbed the rope that had been tied around my mother’s wrists and tied up Gregori’s hands as he cowered in the corner.

He never did have much for balls. And I must admit, it was a sweet irony that nowhewas the one being tied up and taken to be tortured.

Sliding down one hall, and creeping down another, we finally made it to a side door, running outside and to the vehicle, before Sorokin’s men shot at or followed us.

We shoved Gregori in the trunk of the SUV and climbed inside the vehicle, me in the back with our mother, while Misha and Dimitry sat in the front.

“Oh, my boys!” my mother cried out once we were settled. “My precious boys, I’ve missed you!” She grabbed the three of us into a big hug, smooshing our cheeks together as we were pulled from different angles into this tiny woman’s strong mom-grip.

“Mom, you know that I love you, and that I’ve missed you a ton, but I need to get a flight to Brazilimmediately.”

Now that Sorokin was dead, and we didn’t have that bullshit looming over us, I needed to find Crissy. We could deal with the consequences of killing Sorokin later.

Dimitry and Misha were a bit more hesitant to speak to our mother, their relationship strained much more than mine. Suddenly, I felt like the mama’s boy of the bunch.Fucking A.

* * *

I arrived in Trancoso,Dimitry staying behind to help Misha deal with any back lash from Sorokin’s men, though I doubt they’d react immediately. They’d need to find a new leader first, and since Ana was the last Sorokin, it’s safe to say that any attack would be seen a mile away. The girl was anything but clever.

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