Sovietnik's Fury Read online

  Vivian moaned and laced her fingers in my hair right before my foot pressed on the brakes, stopping the car abruptly.

  Laughing, she used the opportunity to straddle my hips and our mouths locked in a heated kiss. She rubbed herself on me, and with all the fucking will I possessed, I untangled from her arms as we both breathed heavily. “Krasivoglazaya, the time for this will come later.”

  She blinked a few times and then frowned.

  “You’re turning me down, willingly?” She picked up my hands and placed them on her hips as she shifted slightly on top of me, bringing her pussy in direct contact with my cock, and a groan escaped me. She bit her lower lip as desire shone for me in her eyes.

  Why the fuck would I leave my woman unfulfilled?

  “On second thought, it can wait.”

  She squealed and then giggled as I flipped her onto the car seat, and we had amazing, wild sex right in the middle of our property. Although she had no clue about it yet.

  “Radmir?” Michael’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and by the tone he used, I understood he had called my name a few times. Most of Bratva members tended to stay away from me these days, as my temper was short, and Michael appeared to be the bravest one among them.

  Or maybe no one else had his naivety.

  “Yeah?”

  He extended the folder in his hand to me. “Vitya asked me to give it to you.” He removed the sunglasses as he scanned the property and whistled loudly. “Quite the house you have. Nice.” Then he flashed me a grin as his brows wiggled up and down. “Planning on running around this place naked?” Then he laughed at his own joke, slapping his knee.

  Michael had his moments, and given the fact Dominic had brought him here when he was a teenager, I was tolerant of him. He was roaming the streets of Irkutsk, selling his body for food when Bratva took him under their wing. The guy couldn’t shoot or tolerate violence, so he became a sort of personal assistant to pakhan. The job sounded lame as fuck and was probably created for him alone as Dom held a special spot for him in his heart. Somehow ruining his bubbly moments seemed almost cruel, so I let it slide.

  Apparently, I fucking let everything slide lately. Looking through the folder, I studied the photos of Vivian and Jake in the park, galleries, and hockey games. She had quite an active life with her kid. No girl nights out or close friendships though, as if life outside being a mom didn’t exist for her. Frowning, I wondered why the fuck the photographer always took the shots of the kid from behind or on the side, never fully showing Jake’s face.

  Then I froze as my hands squeezed the papers tightly, looking at the picture of her smiling to the camera with Alex Jordan hugging her gently during the charity event in New York.

  Although she didn’t seem happy, she was comfortable enough to let him hold her as if she was the most precious thing to him. And why wouldn't he? He was her husband after all. He had all the fucking rights.

  I was the old lover, too pathetic to let go of the past, or she was a woman who had no problem sleeping with me while her husband was away.

  Closing the folder, I stood up and gave the fucking house one more glance. “You like it?”

  Michael snorted at my question, while snapping a few pics on his phone. “Like it? Fucking love it! Too bad me and Vi—” He stopped before saying too much and then cleared his throat. “Too bad I can’t afford it for now.” The cover up was so lame, but I wouldn't comment on that. Did he think I had no idea about his relationship with Vitya?

  I got inside the car, opened my window, and shouted, “Hey, Michael.” He turned around and lifted his chin. I threw the keys at him, and he caught them easily. “The house is yours.”

  “What?” His voice was laced with shock as he shook his head. “Radmir, it’s too—” Not bothering to listen to his reply, I drove back to headquarters, ignoring the images of pure joy on Vivian’s face when her eyes first saw it.

  “You bought this for us?” she asked with wonder as she swirled on the porch, her eyes shining brightly at the beauty. All I could focus on was how fucking perfect she was with her flowery, white dress as her dark locks swayed back in the light breeze. Her lips dark red, swollen from our deep kisses.

  “It’s our home, baby.”

  “You are crazy, Russian,” she said, then dashed toward me. I had just enough time to brace myself as she jumped on me, wrapping her arms and legs around me. “But I love you anyway.” Caressing her cheek, I placed a soft kiss on her hair.

  “You do? It’s good that I bought this house, then.”

  She leaned back, palming my head. “The best idea ever. We will start a life here.”

  Her last words accompanied me as I drove farther and farther away from the place that was supposed to be heaven on earth for us.

  July 2017

  Houston, Texas

  Vivian

  “Let’s drink a toast to my daughter and future son-in-law!” Dad said loudly. The people around him cheered as the “happy couple” gave in to a passionate kiss in the wide-spaced dining room where my family held important or high-society gatherings. Tina, my sister and the future bride, tilted her head back and laughed as her fiancé, John, trailed a few kisses down her neck, holding her just inches away from the floor in a movie-like dip. He brought them up, swirled her in a circle, and she wrapped her arms around him, sighing happily.

  A bittersweet smile appeared on my face, but to cover it up from the media, I raised the champagne glass higher and took another sip, praying no one would notice it had been my second for the night. Although it wasn't a lot, it sure as hell would create unwanted attention and the press would start claiming Alex and I had marital problems or some other idiotic excuses. With six years of experience in the business, I couldn't call this a marriage, I had merely learned to survive with the sharks. As long as you gave them something, they would leave you alone.

  Drinking during social gatherings didn't make me feel better about the situation, but it sure helped to keep the pretense alive and well.

  “Oh, they are perfect for each other.” My mom sighed, her eyes misty with tears she wiped away with a tissue. “Who would have thought?”

  “Yes, they sure are.” They gave me hope that some members of my family could find happiness and actually hold on to it without fear of it being torn away.

  Mother furrowed her brow, which was impressive considering all the Botox and plastic surgeries she had through the years. Although in her mid-sixties, she didn't look a day older than fifty with her shoulder-length blonde hair, sky blue eyes, and fit body, which she took care of religiously. The only wrinkles on her flawless, tanned skin were those in the corners of her eyes from all the laughing and smiling she did.

  Too bad they were all fake.

  “Vi—” she started worriedly, but thanks to freaking God, before she could dwell on it, we were interrupted by a bouncing Tina, who almost knocked me on my ass from the fierce hug she gave me.

  “Vivian!” Her orchid scent washed over me, while her bony arms dug into my skin painfully, not to mention how my neck hurt from looking upward so I could hold her gaze. Considering she was almost six feet tall to my five foot three, it happened a lot, but with her five-inch heels, I felt the strain. “Look at my ring.” She extended her hand in front of her, giving me a good view of the magnificent three-carat diamond ring, a princess cut by Tiffany’s. The light from the chandelier above us reflected in it, almost mesmerizing the person who gazed into it. It looked exceptionally elegant on her long, manicured finger.

  Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I said, “It’s very beautiful.” Unintentionally, my thumb brushed over the stone as it reminded me of another ring.

  Only the other ring had sapphires surrounded by white diamonds.

  John joined Tina, wrapping his hand around her waist, and my eyes clashed with his in a long stare. I hoped he read in them that if he ever dared to hurt my sister, the consequences would be severe. He chuckled and nodded, acknowledging my threat.


  “Don’t worry, Vi.” He brought her closer to him while gazing lovingly at her. “I’ll take care of her. I know how important she is to you.”

  Tina rolled her eyes, while catching the waiter with drinks. “Umm… hello there? I’m not a child.” Then someone called them, and with apologies, they left to tend to other guests.

  John and Tina had met in Paris a year ago, where he fell in love instantly and tried everything he could to get her attention. After the disaster she experienced with her first husband, who was the male version of gold-digger, Tina swore off marriage and kept refusing him. The guy did everything he could: expensive dinners, romantic surprises, gifts, attention. She finally caved when he took care of her when she was sick for an entire two weeks. Tina claimed that if the sight of her all red with a runny nose didn't scare him off, nothing would.

  It probably helped he had inherited a fortune from his family, so he didn't need her money.

  Suddenly, it all became too much. Classical music, champagne left and right, hushed whispers and conversations of the high elite, overused perfume, and the happy couple, who clearly were in love. Swallowing past the lump in my throat once again, I counted to ten while checking on Jake, who played with Lola outside under our housekeeper, Katy’s, supervision. He tried to teach Lola how to play with his Marvel figurines, but she just sighed heavily and rested her chin on her hand. She probably would have escaped his company if any other kids were present.

  He’d be fine without me for a little while, so I told my mom, “I’m going to lie down for a few minutes.”

  She touched my arm gently. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, no worries, Mama.” I went upstairs, clicking loudly on the stairs with my five-inch heels. Alex raised his brow but made no move to stop me. Thank God, one of his business colleagues was here, or he wouldn't have left my side.

  One more month and our divorce would be finalized, just one more month of this make-believe life. I could survive it; I had survived six years after all.

  Finally, I reached the door, shutting it as softly as possible behind me, and leaned against it, gulping breaths as tears slid down my cheeks. Wiping them quickly away so they wouldn't ruin my makeup, I walked to my closet, took out a box from the top shelf, and sat down on the floor with it. The box held the pictures of Radmir and me in a photo booth while I tried to convince him to smile more because he couldn't let go of his serious expression. Beside it lay a black, square, jewelry box. Running my fingers lovingly over the box, I opened it and the most beautiful ring, according to me, came into view. A five-carat sapphire was surrounded by tiny little crystal-clear diamonds, almost reflecting my face in them.

  “It’s huge, Radmir!”

  He chuckled at my words and then swirled me around the dance floor in the middle of the restaurant as people quietly talked. Who cared though, when the man I loved deeply just proposed to me?

  “Good. Everyone will know you belong to me now, krasivoglazaya.” His hands on my waist tightened as his voice lowered to a growl. “In case it wasn't clear before.” Then he shut up any protest with a kiss as happiness like I never knew before created a safe cocoon around us, where nothing besides love existed, and the future held nothing but endless possibilities for us.

  Blinking away the memory, I wondered if it was possible to live with half a heart for the rest of my life. When he was in prison, my only hope was that he’d come for us and save us from the prison his situation had placed us in. Instead, he wanted nothing to do with me and didn't stick around to listen to my reasons. What changed so much for the man I loved? Even if he was angry about my supposed betrayal by marrying Alex, how could he not want to see Jake? I’d sent him so many letters about his child, telling him stories he would want to know. I even kept a journal with all the photos. He was supposed to be here with us all this time, and it was my way to somehow give him back all those stolen moments.

  But he didn't want them, us, me.

  And as much as I tried to replace my overpowering love for him with raging hatred, it didn't help.

  How could you hate a man who became your everything? It was easier to get used to the pain that bled like a knife wound every day.

  “Mommy,” Jake shouted, running up the stairs. I quickly closed the lid and put the box away, just in time for him to burst into the room and right in my arms as I caught him. “I couldn't find you.” He wrapped his legs and arms tightly around me, and I breathed in his scent, which dulled the permanent pain inside me and gave me a reason to survive and fight.

  I had a son.

  What could possibly be more important in this world than him? I thought Radmir would have understood why I married Alex, considering I explained it in the letter, but he didn't want to see reason.

  I could live with the pain of losing him.

  But I’d never be able to take a single breath without Jake.

  Love for a man was all-consuming.

  But it could never compare to the love a mother felt for her child, so I could never regret the choices I made, and maybe that was what he couldn't forgive.

  Not once in my letters had I asked for forgiveness.

  August 2017

  Moscow, Russia

  Radmir

  Turning on the light, I walked into the apartment wing at the Bratva headquarters, placing my keys on the table while I scanned the area to locate the strange smell, as if someone had splashed perfume.

  My wing was the biggest after the pakhan’s, consisting of a wide living room that had a huge-ass window, which opened to a view of the shooting range where members honed their skills and I could keep an eye on them while sipping my morning coffee. A bar stood in the right corner with all kinds of “male drinks,” or so the mafia houses called them, with an ice machine and two stools, so whenever I felt the need to just unwind alone in my room, I could. The electric fireplace created a cozy atmosphere along with the red Persian carpet, brown, half-round, leather couch, and two chairs. An office desk with papers and a laptop occupied the left corner of the room with a comfortable-as-fuck swivel chair. Various pieces of Dominic’s artwork I’d managed to get from him through the years occupied my white walls, making my apartment seem quite artistic instead of a simple bachelor pad.

  Pouring myself some whiskey, I moved to my room, which had a king-sized bed in the middle, adjoining bathroom, and walk-in closet.

  And a wall with a mounted tack board filled with various photographs and names linked by pointed arrows and notes.

  With a red marker, I marked the pictures of Conrad, the delivery guy, the driver who brought me into the plan, the judge and one of the inmates who got out with huge X. I was done with them, and they had learned their lesson.

  I had left Benjamin for the great finale. He had to suffer more than the rest.

  Picking up a green marker, I created arrows right to the middle picture, which was a question mark, because the name of the mastermind behind all this shit was still unknown.

  He hid himself well as no clues led to him; no one knew his face, name, or even his voice. I ran his tattoo through various search engines and databases, but neither he nor the design had shown up anywhere. It must have meant something important to him, but Honey, Connor’s girl and FBI hacker, promised to find me a designer who specialized in such stuff. That was my only lead so far.

  A witness, Alex Jordan, Vivian’s father, the prosecutor, and one of the jurors were the only ones left on the board. Each one of them supplied false information about me to put me behind bars, so maybe through them I could get more information.

  Six more tortures to inflict, only I had no clue how to do it to Vivian’s family, because hurting them would mean hurting her, and even with all the fury burning inside me like an inferno, I couldn't bring myself do to it to her.

  “Promise me, Radmir. Don’t hurt my father. He just needs time,” Vivian pleaded while holding the collar of my shirt tightly, tears shimmering in her eyes. We stood in the middle of the room while the Bratva wa
ited for me downstairs as her father issued a challenge for us. They had no idea that Vasya stripped me of my position, otherwise no one would have helped me.

  “Krasivoglazaya, he is declaring a war on me. I can’t control what might happen in the brotherhood if he puts cops on us.”

  She shook her head. “You are a sovietnik. Your word counts. Radmir, please. Promise me.” As she held on to me for dear life, I didn't know how to explain to the woman who had become my everything that those weren't promises I could keep. I was part of the dangerous world where men killed each other without remorse if they stood in their way. Her family went batshit crazy over our relationship, and her father used everything in his arsenal to eliminate me and get her to marry Alex Jordan. With his connections in the States, the only way to stop him was to make him shut up in our way.

  Vivian was asking me to give up the only weapon I had against her father, and it was a suicide mission in the making. I opened my mouth to refuse, when she breathed heavily and buried her head deeper into my neck as my hands wrapped around her. Sobs shook her as her tears soaked my shirt, and my heart broke.

  Fuck.

  How could I break her heart? She wouldn't be able to live with me if I harmed him, and I couldn't live without her.

  The choice was simple, because she left me no choice.

  “I promise,” I murmured into her hair, and she squeezed me tighter while my mind spun with the possibilities of this not ending well.

  We needed to go back to Russia, the only way to ensure our safety.

  However, the next day, Cliff had died, and my plans were not meant to come true.

  But even with that outcome, I fucking knew I could never break my promise to her.

  So I prayed to God her father had nothing to do with this murder, because I might not torture him, but sure as fuck, he’d end up in prison, where his life would be unbearable.

  Vivian

  Alex’s lawyer, Hugh, slid the papers toward me on the shiny, wooden desk and placed a silver pen with his firm’s name engraved in the metal on it. “All that’s left to sign are those, and the divorce will be finalized.” Reading through them, I studied the papers for any small print that hid loopholes. I didn't need to miss anything, and I didn't trust Alex’s lawyers to consider my interests.