Bought by the Russian Mobster (5 page)

Vladimir glanced around at their father’s comfortably furnished living room. “Do you ever leave this place anymore?”

“What?” Their father laughed loudly and snapped his fingers. His latest wife scurried in to pour him a generous shot of vodka. “Why would I leave? I have everything I need right here and I have sons to report back to me on the success of my businesses.” His bushy brows turned down like two giant caterpillars about to fall off his face. “Which brings me to my reason for asking the two of you to come here.”

“What’s that?” Vladimir crossed his arms. Nicolai had a feeling that he was intentionally looking bored.

“Where is the woman you and Nicolai accepted as payment for a gambling debt? She should be ready by now to work in one of our brothels and earn money to pay back her father’s debt.”

Nicolai suddenly realized that his father might remember something of Lily’s history. He moved away from the wall and dipped his head respectfully to their father. “Do you remember a man who was killed in a raid down at the docks about twenty years ago?”

Pyotr looked confused by the change in topic. “Why would I remember this?”

“Because he was your man and he died in a raid.” Nicolai hoped his father would still remember.

“Twenty years is a long time,” Pyotr muttered. “Perhaps you speak of Yakov Orlov. He was from Ukraine. Why do you care? This man died when you were barely a boy.”

“This woman we received in trade is his daughter,” Nicolai admitted. “I simply wondered what her family was really like.”

“Put her to work and you shall find out!” Pyotr laughed loudly at his own joke.

Nicolai was not amused. Sometimes his father was crass. It was that very thing that had fostered Vladimir’s mean streak. Now, though, Nicolai needed to protect Lily. “Her stepfather mistreated her. She can’t work if she is too thin and weak to spend a day on her feet waiting tables.”

“So put her in the laundromat then. But make her earn money or I will force you to pay for her keep.” Pyotr’s frown intensified.

“I would happily buy her,” Vladimir said quickly. “Name your price, Papa.”

A wave of anger swept over Nicolai. He clenched his fists to fight down the urge to lunge at his brother. “Listen to me,” Nicolai spat. “You will never touch her. No matter how much money you offer to pay for her.”

“What does she have? A magic pussy?” His father lumbered to his feet. “Bring her to me then and I will sample this incredible treat and decide for myself if she is ready!”

“She isn’t that sort of woman, Papa.” Nicolai insisted. “The brothel would destroy her and she would be useless for anything. Trust me. I will find a position for her that will benefit us all.”

“Ah, my good son.” Pyotr leaned forward and patted both of Nicolai’s cheeks. “If you say this is true, then I will trust your judgment.”

Vladimir hissed in anger. “You foolish old man! You would trust this ingratiating weakling over your own heir? When you are gone, it will be me ruling the Pasternaks! I will return the respect to our name. When people hear of us they will tremble with fear.”

“Do they not tremble now?” Pyotr looked incensed. “Who are you to say that we are not great?” Pyotr waddled toward Vladimir, wagging his finger. “And who do you think chooses the son that will follow in my footsteps? Do you really think I will choose you? You are selfish and a liar. You think I do not know what you do behind my back, but I do!”

Vladimir turned to Nicolai. “Traitor!”

“I didn’t have to tattle like a schoolboy, Vladimir.” Nicolai shook his head. Of all the conversations he’d expected to have, this one would have the worst results. “Your skimming leaves a trail a mile wide. One would think that you had never heard of an accountant.”

Vladimir refused to let this slight pass. He dove at Nicolai like a bull. Nicolai grunted when Vladimir made contact with his solar plexus. It was like running into a brick wall. The two of them went down in a tumble of flailing limbs and punches. Nicolai snarled in Russian and Vladimir cursed in English.

“Stop this!” Pyotr howled. “Stop right now!”

Nicolai was surprised when he felt a fist connect with his jaw, and another with his left eye. Vladimir was getting better at this. Nicolai still managed to bruise his brother’s ribs and twist his arm up behind his back. Then Vladimir was ripped away by a set of hands belonging to one of his father’s enforcers.

“Enough, enough, enough!” Their father was shouting at the top of his lungs.

The peaceful living room had filled with enforcers who had come to their boss’s aid. They murmured to each other while pacing back and forth, staring at the brothers who would eventually rule the family. For the first time, Nicolai wondered just how bad things would get if his father truly placed him in charge of the Pasternak syndicate. For now, Vladimir seemed content to storm out of the house and let that be the end.

Nicolai watched his brother go and hoped that Lily would be safe. So far it seemed as though Vladimir was fixated on the idea that he could be something akin to a savior to the young woman. She would be safe until Vladimir believed she had betrayed him somehow. That was the way his brother’s personality disorder worked, and there was no way to circumvent the cycle.

“Come sit with me, Nicolai,” his father urged. “I am tired after all this nonsense.”

“As you wish, Papa.” Nicolai grabbed the bottle of vodka and two shot glasses from the sideboard in his father’s living room. He set them on the low table between the overstuffed leather couches. “Would you like me to pour you a shot?”

“Yes.” Pyotr heaved a giant sigh. “You were always such a good boy. I don’t know where I failed with your brother.”

“You didn’t fail.” It was a simple statement, but Nicolai could tell it deeply affected his father. “Vladimir has some issues that make him difficult to get along with.”

“You’re speaking of that nonsense when he was a teenager.” Pyotr frowned. “The doctors told us that he could live a normal life if he would take his medication regularly.”

“Are
you
going to ask him if he’s off his meds?” Nicolai asked drily. “Because I’m pretty sure he will rip my spine out if I attempt it.”

“So it is time for me to face the truth of my son’s insanity, is that it?” Pyotr looked positively ill.

“Don’t look at me as though you’re wondering if you should be offended by your own words or not,” Nicolai admonished the older man. “You did nothing wrong. My brother has a personality disorder.” Nicolai could tell that Pyotr was having difficulty understanding. He searched for the appropriate words in Russian and tried that.

Pyotr nodded. “You mean that he is not crazy. He is simply unbalanced.”

“It’s a little more complex than that,” Nicolai said. “He threw back a shot and felt the burn all the way down to his belly. “I’ve been doing research over the years. Ever since the doctors told us that Vladimir has a borderline personality disorder. He’s highly intelligent, but constantly feels as though everyone is out to get him. Any disagreement is considered a betrayal, and his anger is sudden and absolute.”

“It certainly sounds like Vladimir,” Pyotr said darkly. “The council has done much talking about him lately.”

“Oh?”

“The other families refuse to acknowledge him as my heir.” Pyotr sucked down a generous shot of alcohol. “They feel he is too unpredictable.”

“And how do you feel about this?” Nicolai felt his stomach cramp. He was afraid he knew what was coming next.

“I have told them that I agree.”

Nicolai turned the shot glass so that the beveled edge caught the light. “That is a serious decision.”

“I wish to make you my heir.”

“And if I do not want this honor?” Nicolai could tell by his father’s smile that he had expected this.

Pyotr reached over and patted Nicolai’s hand. “Those who do not want the mantle of leadership are the ones who most often deserve it.”

Nicolai didn’t respond to this nugget of wisdom. He stood up instead. “It is late. I will let you go upstairs to bed. Tomorrow we can discuss this more.”

“That will not change my mind.” Pyotr gained his feet, wobbling a little. “I am old. I am tired. I need to know that there is a good man to take over after I am gone.”

Nicolai hugged his father, lingering a moment to inhale the familiar scents of spicy smoke from a samovar mingled with a twinge of vodka. “Good night, Papa.”

“Good night.”

Nicolai watched his father disappear down the hallway and then turned to head for the kitchen. He needed advice and there was only one man who might be able to offer it. The room was warm with the scents of roasting meat, wine, and beer. Nicolai sat at the counter.

Anatoly looked up from the roasted lamb he was slicing. “So you spoke with your father, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Now you want to know what I think.”

It wasn’t a question. Anatoly knew damn well what Nicolai’s concerns were. Nicolai reached over and snagged a bit of lamb. The succulent taste exploded on his tongue, reminding him of sitting in this very kitchen as a child and sneaking a taste.

Anatoly sighed. “Your brother is insane, Nicolai. We all know this. We
have
known for years.”

“It’s gotten worse,” Nicolai agreed. “I’m starting to be afraid that he’s going to hurt somebody.”

“He has always been volatile.” Anatoly put a piece of meat in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “He doesn’t like being told
no
.”

“Ha!” Nicolai scoffed. “To Vladimir, saying no or disagreeing with him is on par with calling him a liar, or telling him he is an idiot. He takes it so personally. And God help anyone who takes an opposite viewpoint on any large issue.”

“Like the question of who will be named your father’s heir, yes?” Anatoly turned around and reached into the refrigerator. He glanced over his shoulder at Nicolai. “Do you want a beer?”

“Please.” Nicolai took the cold bottle and the opener that Anatoly handed him. He considered his brother’s recent descent in what seemed to be genuine madness. “What do
you
think?”

Anatoly snorted. “You do not want to know what I think.”

“I do or I wouldn’t have asked. I value your opinion.” Nicolai took a deep breath and a swig of his beer to brace himself for what was coming.

“I think we are coming to a point where your brother needs to be put down before he commits cold-blooded murder.” Anatoly’s tone was grim.

“Who?” Nicolai hated to ask. “Who do you think he’ll kill?”

“You,” Anatoly said immediately. “Although there are moments when he seems as though he might go after your father.”

“No.” Nicolai pushed that thought out of his head. “Vladimir wants my father’s approval. He wouldn’t risk it. Would he?”

Anatoly shrugged and took a long drink of his beer. “I think we’re all in danger until that rabid beast is put down.”

There was a shout from upstairs. Both Anatoly and Nicolai set their beers aside and left the kitchen at a dead run. Something was very wrong.

Chapter Seven

Nicolai knelt on the floor beside his father’s body and tried to understand what would have possessed someone to murder the old man. Anatoly had only just warned him this could happen. Why hadn’t Nicolai taken precautions? He could have posted a guard or something. Enforcers milled about inside the room. There were hushed whispers and conversations in Russian, but for the most part Nicolai was left alone to puzzle things out. A few feet away, Anatoly was keeping the men calm.

“Nicolai, we have to call the police,” Anatoly reminded him. The man had been his father’s second-in-command for years. Now he knelt beside Pyotr’s body. Anatoly sighed heavily. “I cannot believe this happened when I was right downstairs. You and I were in the kitchen talking about exactly this!”

“It is not your fault.” Nicolai gently closed his father’s eyes. “This was my brother’s doing.”

“Vladimir?” Anatoly huffed out a long sigh. “I know you are right, but that is a serious accusation. We have to have proof.”

“Proof?” Nicolai frowned, gazing around the room and noting that nothing was touched. “I have no evidence, if that’s what you mean. But Vladimir had plenty of motives. Tonight was the first time my father told Vladimir that he would not be the heir to the Pasternak syndicate. He berated my brother and challenged his pride.”

Anatoly cursed in low, fervent Russian. “Your brother is not the sort of man to let that go without retaliation.”

“Exactly.”

The sound of boots pounding the stairs made everyone shift with agitation. What was happening now? Nicolai was afraid he knew.

“Cops!” someone shouted. “Who called the boys in blue?”

“Would he?” Anatoly asked Nicolai.

Nicolai nodded grimly. “Vladimir would do anything to make our lives more uncomfortable.”

“Your brother must be stopped.” Anatoly sighed. “You were the council’s first choice to lead in your father’s place.”

“I don’t want that responsibility,” Nicolai argued.

Four police officers spilled into the room, a well-dressed detective following behind with a smug expression on his face. Anatoly looked to Nicolai. He spoke in Russian to purposefully exclude the cops. “You may not want it, but it is yours all the same.”

“I’m Detective Orr. What happened here?” the pompous man demanded. The sheer arrogance in his manner made Nicolai grind his teeth in irritation. “Who murdered Pyotr Pasternak?”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to
detect
?” Nicolai asked calmly. “I don’t know what happened. My father and I had a drink, I left the house, and ten minutes later I got a call notifying me that something was wrong. I returned, and now you are here.” Nicolai couldn’t help himself. “So now we are saved.”

Detective Orr did not look amused. “So you’re Pasternak’s son? Which one?”

“Nicolai.” Nicolai shared a look with Anatoly. How was it that the detective didn’t know who Nicolai was? The local cops typically had trading cards that listed each mafia member, their status, and their known affiliations.

“Where is Vladimir?” Detective Orr stepped aside to let the CSI guys into the room. “And everyone needs to get out of this room! This is an active crime scene!”