Two Weeks Later
I slouch down deeper in the driver’s seat of my BMW and stare across the street. Club Shade’s bass thumps and occasionally rattles the windows, and I figure half the people that live on this block hate that goddamn place with a passion.
Not that I blame them. Shade’s about as slimy as clubs get. It’s like some idiot frat boy dreamed up the most cliché space imaginable, made it even worse, added more mirrors and a hands-off policy with regards to what happens in the bathrooms, and then makes it a reality.
“You know what my favorite part of stakeouts is?” Tigran asks.
“The comfortable silences.”
“Coffee.” He raises a paper cup to his lips and sighs. “Endless coffee.”
“You’re an addict.”
“Proudly.”
“You know what my favorite part is?”
His eyebrows raise. “The comfortable silences?”
“No. When they’re over.”
My brother laughs. I like his laughs. Always have. He’s got a good, infectious one, and I think it’s like half his charm. Get him going and everyone around him is suddenly in a good mood.
We’re opposites like that. Tigran’s the charming and outgoing brother, while I’m the ugly brooding one.
“What do you think Saro’s doing right now?” Tigran asks.
“Either snorting himself to death or acting tough in front of his guys. Probably both.”
“Where did Auntie Nare go wrong? He had so much potential.”
I snort and shake my head. “I watched our idiot cousin eat a worm from the gutter for a dollar one time. Remember when he shot himself in the foot?”
“I never said he was smart.” Tigran frowns and takes another long drink from his cup. “When you’re dumb as mud, the only place to go is up.”
“Nah, you’re wrong about that. When you’re that dumb, all you do is drag everyone else down to your level.”
“Guess you’re right about that.” Tigran stretches and leans his head against the window. “That stupid asshole. I still kind of like him.”
“Even though we’re going to put a bullet in his head?”
“I’ll like him even as I pull the trigger.”
That’s my soft little brother. He’s got a big heart but even bigger loyalty. He’ll do what’s necessary with a smile on his face.
“Saro deserves it. He never should’ve gone against me, much less against me and Uncle Garen.”
“Speaking of which.” Tigran leans toward me again. “You see your future wife yet?”
I grimace and don’t reply. I’ve been doing my goddamn best not to think about that little arrangement.
Ever since I took over as the patron of the Armenian Brotherhood, my life’s been one constant bloody battle after another. Maybe half the existing captains decided to stick with me, and the rest were split between my idiot cousin and my ruthless uncle. Slowly though, Saro’s been losing support, while Garen’s only entrenched himself further.
It’s an ugly stalemate. If I had it my way, Garen would be choking on his own blood right now. But instead, I’m meeting him halfway and marrying a girl from his side of the organization.
Once I’m married and my traitor cousin Saro’s in the ground, the Brotherhood can start to heal. I’ll be the patron, the main boss and leader, while Garen will be my right hand and Tigran will be my left. The Brotherhood will be united again, and we’ll be able to begin the long process of healing our wounds and growing our power._
But for now, there’s more blood to spill.
And some fucking random girl to marry.
“Come on, you know you’re curious.” Tigran waggles his eyebrows. “Think Garen’s going to saddle you with someone ugly?”
“He’s not that stupid.”
“Yes, but he is definitely that vindictive.”
Tigran’s got a point. “It’s irrelevant. I’m marrying this girl to end the war. That’s all that matters.”
“Yeah, yeah, but you gotta live with her, right?”
“Allegedly.”
“Live with her, fuck her, have babies with her—”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“Haven’t you even thought about any of this?”
I glare at my brother. “Of course I have,” I say, even though it’s a complete lie.
I’ve barely thought about my upcoming marriage. It’s still a month away, so what’s it matter to me right now?
Truthfully, I’ve had other things on my mind. Like finding Saro and finally killing the little cocky shit. Like keeping Garen’s men at bay while also ingratiating myself with Baltimore’s elite. Like bribing the chief of police and city hall and making sure the flow of drugs onto the streets continues while consolidating my strength.
Like that gorgeous little Russian neighbor girl I caught fondling my underwear.
I grimace and hold onto the steering wheel. I can’t let myself start fondly remembering filling that girl’s tight, wet pussy all night again. Every time, it drives me fucking crazy with distraction.
There’s a reason I haven’t gone back to that safe house, and it’s not only because someone clearly blew the cover. I figure it was Saro and his boys breaking in to send me a message. That place isn’t exactly safe for me right now.
But mostly I don’t want to run into her again.
She’s a Russian. She’s also not in the life, which makes her a nobody. And I’m technically engaged to another woman, which isn’t great.
The temptation would be too strong to make another sinful mistake.
Unfortunately for me, she works at Club Shade. Which might be another reason why I don’t mind these stakeouts.
Not that I’d go talk to her. I haven’t even seen her since that morning when I left her still sleeping in my bed. But I know she’s in there, and for some reason, that’s addictive.
Being close to that woman makes my skin prickle with anticipation.
“Look, it’s okay if you’re conflicted. Nobody needs you to be happy about marrying this girl.” Tigran glances at me sideways. “But you need to at least stop acting like you’re about to get your dick chopped off.”
“I’m not acting like that.”
“You are. Every time I bring it up, you get this sour look on your face—” He starts to mock me and it’s not flattering.
I slap him on the side of the head. He laughs, waving me off. “Don’t be such a prick is all I’m saying.”
“I’m fucking not,” I growl, glaring at the back alley leading away from Shade.
“You are.”
“Don’t be a child.”
“Okay. You still are.”
I turn to punch my brother in the fucking face when a man steps out from the shadows beside the club, looks both ways, and starts walking.
We both shut up. Tigran sits up straight, his smile forgotten. I grab my gun from the center console, make sure it’s loaded, and shove open the door.
It’s a comfortable spring night. A warm, humid breeze blows in from the harbor. Tigran’s at my back, looking menacing, as we hurry after the lone figure up ahead. This neighborhood’s a decent place, not too far from downtown, but with enough beat-up old row homes and crumbling brick facades that the real estate isn’t all that expensive. Definitely not the sort of place to go walking alone at night.
Like this fucking moron likes to do.
Tigran cuts down an alley without being told. He’s running to get up ahead as I pick up my pace. I’m a quarter block behind the guy and he’s got his head down, not paying any attention to his surroundings. Are these the kind of men that Saro puts his trust in? It’s fucking pathetic, honestly.
This shouldn’t be so easy.
The guy turns a corner up ahead. I hurry, trying to make sure I don’t lose him, and nearly slam right into Tigran as I speed around the building.
“The fuck?” I say, looking around. “Where’d he go?”
“What do you mean?” He’s glaring at me, then at the street. “I thought you were behind him.”
“I was. But then he—” And there, up on the right, is a little narrow alley cutting in behind a bodega.
Piece of shit. I rush toward it, running now. Tigran’s cursing at my back. The alley’s barely more than six feet wide with mucky water in puddles. Down at the end, our man’s trying to drag himself up onto a fire escape, but his jeans are caught on one of the ladder rungs. When he spots us, his eyes go wide with panic and he starts wriggling out of his pants like a snake shedding his skin.
“Get the fuck down from there,” I snarl, jumping up. I catch his ankle just as he’s about to get away. His jeans fall down in my fucking face and I’m spitting at him in Armenian as Tigran stands nearby, his gun drawn.
Erik Davtyan tries his best to struggle away, clinging onto the railing like his life depends on it, but his fingers slip and we both topple down. He lands on top of me, thrashing and kicking, and I have to wrestle him until I’ve got a knee on the side of his face and his arms wrenched behind his back.
I spit blood and curse his whole family. Tigran’s grinning at me, apparently amused.
“You stupid little crooked dick,” I snap at Erik. “Almost got away, didn’t you?”
“Fuck you, Arsen. I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
“Where’s Saro?”
“I don’t know. Fuck off.”
“When does he come into the club? What door does he use?”
“I told you already—”
I wrench his wrist hard and it pops. Erik yelps and howls in agony.
“I’ll ask nicely one more time,” I say, glaring death down at him, shoving my knee harder into his face. “When does Saro come into the club? What door does he use?”
“It’s fucking random,” Erik groans. I start to push on his arm again and he starts sobbing. “Tuesdays! Okay, fucking Tuesdays! That’s when his favorite girl’s working.”
“What door?”
“The back door. The fucking back one! He doesn’t use the main street though. He parks a couple blocks away and heads in through the back alley.”
Clever little Saro. Didn’t think he had it in him. That explains why we never see the prick even though we’ve been watching. “Who’s his favorite girl?”
“I don’t know. Some fucking random bitch.”
“Give me a name.”
“Kathleen! Fuck, her name’s Kathleen. Just some girl!”
I clench my jaw. What’s wrong with me? Some ugly voice worried it might be Lena, and the relief I’m feeling is palpable. I shouldn’t care like this.
“We should go,” Tigran says from my back. “Piggy’s being too loud.”
“You’re squealing too much,” I say, whispering at Erik. “That’s a problem.”
“Please. I don’t care about the war. I’m just his friend.”
I wrench his arm hard and his shoulder cracks. His back arches and he thrashes in agony like a dying fish. I step back and look down at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
Erik can pretend like he’s a nobody, but we both know he’s one of Saro’s inner circle. Which makes him fair game.
“Tigran,” I say, turning away.
My brother pulls the trigger three times, and we leave the body to cool in the alley.
