Bratva Beast (Bravikov Bratva #1)

Chapter 9

ISABELLA

Thane holds the door open as I enter the penthouse. He hasn’t said more than five words to me. I put my hand on my hip. “Tell Cynric you don’t want to babysit me.”

His impassive face cracks. “Yeah. I’m going to tell my father’s heir that I don’t want to do the job he’s given me.” He grits his teeth. “That’s not how this works.”

“Well, I can say that this.” I move my hand back and forth between us. “This doesn’t work.” I set my backpack on the bench by the front door and saunter to the kitchen. It’s midnight, and Cynric is with that horrible Aguilar guy. “I’m sure there’s someone who wants to move up in the bratva that wouldn’t mind watching after me.”

He makes some indiscernible sound as he sits down on a bar stool. “Cynric seems to give a shit about your safety. I don’t know why Papa doesn’t just give you to someone.”

I snort. “Suggest that to your brother.”

The door opens as Saxon calls out. “Hey, Izzy. Make me a sandwich.”

I chuckle. “Don’t let him hear you call me Izzy.”

“Ha. He’s in New Jersey.”

Thane’s eyes widen. “Why is he in New Jersey?”

I turn with the sandwich ingredients in my hand. “Aguilar.”

Thane stands, knocking the bar stool backward, cursing in Russian. “We need to go.”

Saxon shakes his head. “She can’t be alone.”

Thane throws out his hand. “Why the fuck not?” He turns his annoyed glare at me. “What the fuck do you have that’s so fucking important to my brother?”

Saxon lowers his voice. “His son in her belly.”

Thane’s eyes bug out. “Well, fuck.” He steps back and sighs. “Congrats.”

I wave my hand as I butter the pieces of bread then raise my focus to Saxon. “You should both go. Who’s going to get past the enforcer in the lobby and at the elevator?”

Saxon and Thane stare at each other, having some private brother conversation, and Thane nods. “Don’t leave the penthouse.”

I nod. “I won’t.” Turning back to the stove I grill my sandwich and think about what life’s going to be like with a baby.

CYNRIC

I get out of my car and nod at my driver. “Wait here.”

He nods. He’s one of the many lower-level soldiers trying to move up in our organization. I walk through the warehouse door, stepping into a pool of blood on the floor. “Fuck!”

Aguilar laughs from the far side of the expansive room. “You’re late.”

“You couldn’t wait to slit his throat until after I left?” Show no fear.

“You’re a funny guy.”

I hear feet shuffling around the room. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, but I do. The Ukrainians have made a better offer.”

“Uh, huh. They don’t have the distribution pipeline we do.”

Aguilar steps into the light. “They will after they execute your line.”

My mind scrambles trying to figure out how to get out of this. He can’t be alone. The warehouse is massive, with dark areas along the walls. The guy on the floor is one of ours. He’s in charge of security here at the warehouse. I chuckle in my head. Epic fail. I refocus on my prey. “What’s the plan here?”

“You were stupid enough to come alone. Well, with just a driver. I’m going to take care of you, and my men are entering your condo building as we speak. Your little baby mama arrived home from work with your brother. It’s a shame. I’m going to miss him. He’s the only one that thinks like we do, but he’s too loyal to you and your Papa.” He emphasizes ‘papa,’ with a sarcastic tone. “I’m surprised you came. If I’m being honest.”

He’s moving around the room, taking a long arc to get to me. The gun in my waistband is heavy, calling me to grab it and shoot him. I can’t do that until I handle the other men in the room.

“Why don’t you invite your men out of the shadows?”

Aguilar laughs. “I don’t need men to handle you.” He flicks his head. “They were just here in case you brought more men.”

I grit my teeth. “Your plan is to shoot me from afar? Is that it?”

“No. I’m a man. I’m going to slit your throat, like I did your boy in the doorway. What’s the saying about sending a boy to do a man’s job? Your father is going to realize this before I end him, too.”

“Good luck with that. He’s the devil.”

Aguilar laughs, a promise hanging in the air. “Want to share his location?”

“Is my father playing hide and seek?”

He scoffs. “You really are funny. I’m curious, besides the fact that you’re ugly and scarred, why do they call you the beast?” Aguilar has walked himself about ten feet from me. I’ve got three knives on my body and can’t decide which one to grab first. A cough at the side of the room distinguishes two of his men: the one who coughed and the one who reminded him to be silent. He edges around a table and stands eight feet in front of me. I just need him to move in two more feet.

A phone rings on the opposite side of the room. I want to smile. He’s given himself away as Aguilar gets in position. I grab the wheeled table as I spin to the side. Blocked from the far side of the room by a set of rolling shelves, I draw my gun. A quick pop in both directions before I put a bullet in Aguilar’s shoulder.

He falls to the ground, shouting in Spanish. Two extra men rush from the back of the room, and I withdraw two of my knives. I throw the first at the man on my left, catching him just to the right of his carotid artery. He’s down. The two men from the coughing side of the room have waited to engage, and I smirk. I grab three glass beakers off the table in one hand and toss them to the men coming up to the side of me. Aguilar thrashes on the ground, trying to reach the nearest table to scramble under. I hit the two men from the coughing side with bullets to the foreheads and dive behind the rolling racks. The other men talk in Spanish. Never assume your opponent doesn’t know your language. I hold my breath, crouching low. I wait until the two men flank the shelving unit on both ends and fire, hitting them both in the hearts. I scream as the door opens and my brothers rush in.

Thane yells my name.

I pop up and rush toward them. “Where the fuck is Isabella? Who’s with her?”

He shakes his head. “She’s fine. We left her at the penthouse.”

The color drains from Saxon’s face as his head pivots around the room, noticing the dead and dying bodies on the floor. “Where are the rest of Aguilar’s men?”

Thane scans the room. “Fuck. He’s sent a dozen to your place.”

I slam my body into Thane. “Should anything happen to her or my child, I’ll kill you. Blood or not.”

He has the wisdom to frown. “I’m on it.” He dials on his phone as we run to their SUV. I glance to see someone has slit my driver’s throat. No promotion for you.

ISABELLA

I finish my sandwich, and as I put my plate into the sink, a noise catches my attention. The brothers have been gone for thirty minutes or so and my phone buzzes. “Hello?”

“Isabella.”

“Papa? What’s wrong?”

“Get in Cynric’s panic room now. They’re coming for you.”

“Who’s coming for me, and what panic room?”

“Cynric’s office is a panic room. Step inside the room and put your hand on the bookcase. Pull the eight by ten photo aside and touch the keypad with your palm and the doors will shut. The room is designed to withstand nearly anything. You’ll be safe.”

I step inside and touch photo of a black wolf and doors come together from each side of the room. The doors slam shut with a crash. “Shit.”

“You shouldn’t swear. You’re carrying my grandson.”

I put my hand on my chest. “You do realize, she could be a girl.”

“You’d never do that to Cynric.”

“Papa. Men determine the sex of the fetus. If it’s a boy, Cynric did it to me.”

He chuckles. “Are you safe?”

“Yes. I’m standing inside the door.”

“Touch your palm to the electronic pad. Now type in your father’s birthdate. You’re activating the security protocols for the penthouse.”

I sit down at Cynric’s desk. “Are Cynric and his brothers okay?”

“That I don’t know. Cynric called before, thinking Aguilar was setting him up. That appears to be true. His brothers were supposed to stay with you. A breakdown in behavior we will soon address. Where’s Mrs. Belova?”

“She has a cold, and we didn’t want me to catch it, so Cynric sent her home earlier.”

“So, it’s just you in the penthouse?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Hit the red switch by the computer screens. They should power up.”

I move the switch, and the monitors begin to hum.

“What do you see?”

“We have two men outside the condo door and there are men in the elevator. A group of men in dark clothes just piled out of the stairwell. They just killed your men.” I swallow the bile in my throat. “They’re expecting me to be here with Thane.”

“Yes. They’ll come in quietly, hoping to catch my second oldest son asleep on the job. There are guns in the closet. The code is four, seven, three, six. Get one.”

I open the cabinet to find a handful of handguns, a half a dozen knives, a semi-automatic, and a fully automatic. I select the Makarov Pistol and a Glock 42.

“Did you find something you can shoot?”

“Yeah. Dad was thorough.”

“I would expect nothing less from your father. You should be good with knives.”

I smirk remembering my weekends with my father. “I think that’s why I love scalpels so much.” A loud thud echoes through the condo. “Oh.”

“What is it?”

“Three men hit the front door with some type of explosion.”

Papa blows out his breath. “Saxon, Thane, and Cynric have arrived in the garage. The rest of our men are handling the lower floors. They’ll be with you soon.”

Another explosion shakes the panic room. “They’re getting through the metal doors leading to the back of the penthouse.”

“Your panic room door will hold. You stay in that room. You carry the next generation in your belly.”

“Hello?” I stare at my phone. “No service. Well, great. Technology sucks.” The screens show more men have entered the penthouse. I finger the four knives I pulled from the cabinet. I guess the years of practice throwing knives as a child is going to come in handy. My father was a security nut with a healthy dose of paranoia being Papa’s lead enforcer.

Boom. The room shakes. Men squeeze through the broken steel door leading into the back of the condo. They’re in our bedroom. My tablet is sitting on my nightstand in the primary bedroom. It isn’t going to work either.

Pound, pound. I turn to the door and bring my focus back to the screen. Two men are banging on the door. I hope Papa is right, and they can’t get in. I catch movement on the far screen. Cynric’s here. He fights through five men as his brothers execute men on the way to me. He’s running through the living room, almost to the first blown through steel door. A loud gunshot coincides with a jerk to Cynric’s body. He turns as his body continues to move forward as though he was shoved. Pain is etched on his face as he falls out of view of the camera. More gunshots as Saxon and Thane shoot a man who’s running around the corner from the far view of the cameras. Saxon waves at the camera. His face is stricken. It’s bad whatever it is. My eyes scan the screens. No more intruders. I turn, expecting Cynric to be up on the next monitor.

“Oh God. Cynric’s down.” I run to the touch screen on the wall and light it up to turn it on. I put my palm on the screen. Please open. A loud click and the doors slam against the opposite walls, opening. I run out. Cynric needs me.

He’s lying on the ground with blood pooling around his torso. “Cynric!” I scream as I fall to my knees next to him. My breath catches. He’s bleeding heavily. I yell at Saxon. “Go to the bathroom and grab my box of maxi pads, under the sink.”

Thane argues. “What the fuck?”

I point to Saxon. “Do it.”

I rip off my t-shirt and press it to his wound. “Thane. In the hall closet is a large black bag. Bring it to me.”

He scoffs. “What? Now you need your luggage.”

I face him and bark in the clearest doctor voice I can find. “Get my fucking med bag now. Shut the fuck up with the comments so I can save your brother.” He doesn’t move and I scream. “Now.”

Movement at the blown door catches my attention as Papa marches in with a group of men. He barks in Russian to one of his men who runs to the closet. Saxon bounds back into the room with the feminine products, and I dump them out, opening a maxi-pad. I push it against the wound. “Saxon, open up a few more. Thane, get me towels.” I glance up. “I need that fucking bag.”

A man drops the bag next to me, and Papa unzips it. “What do you need?”

“I need an IV bag, and I have to clean my hands.”

Saxon places his hands over the cloth I’m holding, pressing it firmly against the maxi-pads on Cynric’s chest. Papa turns me, having grabbed a bottle of vodka from under the bar and pours the liquid on my hands. I flick them, spraying the cold drops, as I reach for a clean towel from the laundry basket Thane set down. Papa pulls gloves out of my bag, and I slip one on each hand. Cynric’s usual healthy skin tone has paled, sweat beads on his forehead. I go through the steps I need to take in my head. I kneel back down and select the forceps.

“Saxon pull off the material, I need to get the bullet.”

Using the forceps, I stick them in the bullet hole, feeling for the resistance of the bullet. Cynric moans as I dig. I grab the bullet and slide it out as I press gauze against the wound until I feel a pull. “Shit. It punctured the lung.”

Thane grumbles. “We need a real doctor.”

I can’t deal with him right now. I ignore him and focus on Cynric as he gasps. Reaching into my bag I pull out the sleeved needles from my bag. With one hand I flick through, finally finding a fourteen-gauge needle. I hand it to Saxon. “Peel it so I can grab it.”

He pulls the paper down, and I grab the needle. I count Cynric’s ribs as Papa holds the towels against his chest. I reach the space between the second and third rib, in line with the middle of the collarbone and insert the needle. A rush of air escapes, and Cynric takes a big breath.

Papa smiles at me. “You did good.”

“We’re not out of the woods yet.” I look at Saxon. “Are we expecting an ambulance?”

Papa answers. “My dentist should be here any moment.”

“I’m worried about blood loss.”

“So, give him blood.” Papa utters matter-of-factly.

“Sure.” My eyes find Saxon. “What’s your blood type?”

“We’re all O positive. It’s a running joke in the family.”

The unlicensed bratva doctor, known as the dentist, steps into the room. He nods at Papa and bends down to me. “What do you need?”

“I think he needs blood.”

The dentist glances at the amount of the blood on the ground and points to Saxon to sit. He rummages through the bag the soldier dropped at his feet. He pulls out a military blood transfusion field kit. Grabbing gloves, he puts them on as Saxon removes his shirt. In moments, he’s set up a transfusion from Saxon to Cynric. He smiles. “I do two of these a week.”

I nod. Who needs Harlem Trauma? Just hang around this guy for experience.

Cynric squeezes my hand. “Are you okay?”

Tears fall down my face. “I’m fine. I need to work on you some more.”

The dentist speaks. “I have morphine.”

I don’t get to answer before he pours a dose in Cynric’s mouth. Cynric grimaces at the bitter taste.

Saxon is leaning against the wall with blood running into the tube from the catheter in his arm. The speed the dentist set that up was amazing. I lift the material once again satisfied with the slower blood loss.

The dentist offers. “Do you need me to stitch that?”

Thane blurts. “You should do it. You’re a real doctor, she’s just pretending at it.”

I close my eyes and take a breath. Pointing to the exit. “Get out.”

The shock that covers Thane’s face with the gasps from the men around the room should make me pause, but my blood is boiling. I’m struggling to keep it together, and I can’t take anymore from him. “Get the fuck out of here. Now.”

He looks at Papa, and I growl. “Don’t look at him. Look at me. You’re making this harder. Get out.”

The slight movement from Papa’s head emboldens me. I take a breath and bark in my best Russian, telling him if he doesn’t leave, I’m going to remove his nuts. That seems to get his attention, and I pull the knife from my sock, holding the point up. “You’re wasting time.”

Papa chuckles. “Once again, my oldest son knew better.”

I turn to see Papa talking to Cynric. “I told you.” Cynric smiles his cheshire grin.

Papa nods. “You did. She is perfect for you. She never would have worked for the other men: too strong, too capable.” He glares at Thane. “Go. You’re not welcome until Cynric says you may return.”

Hurt slams into his face as Saxon chuckles on the floor. “Mom is spinning in her grave about you, bro. You’ve decided you don’t trust women. She’d be sad.”

He opens his mouth like he’s got the perfect retort, but his father’s cough closes his mouth. He waves his hand. “Don’t let him die.”

Cynric whispers. “We’re not done with this.”

I watch the dentist. A man who frequented my house when I was a child. “He needs an antibiotic.” He reaches into his large black bag with individual pockets and colored bottles and bags. Selecting a small bottle, he hands it to Papa. “This should get him through.” He nods at Papa. “I think you’ve found my replacement, Mikhail.”

I should have known this was coming. I’ll never escape them. “Where are we taking him?”

Papa takes out his phone and dials someone, speaking in quick Russian. He’s arranging for us to stay at a safe house until Aguilar’s crew is accounted for. I swallow down the stress that’s enveloped me.