Guarded Rebellion (The Baranov Legacy)

1. Lev

1

LEV

I can’t wait to be home.

With every mile that Rurik drove through the clogged streets of New York, my anticipation grew. Hell, at this rate of traffic, it was more like every inch that he managed to move the car, but I wouldn’t complain. Because I was finally heading home.

My assignment was done. Finite. Over. That long-ass job of staking out Yusuf Ilyin was one among many. It wasn’t the first job I’d done as a member of the Baranov Family, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Thank fuck that’s all over,” I said before sighing again, letting my chest fill up then releasing all the remaining threads of tension that I’d lived with. For two months, I was out there—in the woods, the city, then back in the woods again. Stalking Yusuf wasn’t as simple as it should’ve been, but I’d succeeded. I was always victorious in whatever the Boss asked of me.

“Yeah, it’s good to have you back, man.” Rurik glanced at me as he drove, almost as though he had to check me out again. “Are you sure I shouldn’t take you to the Boss’s place and let one of the doctors look at those injuries?”

“No.” I shook my head, not a fan of another obstacle of getting home. “It’s not that bad.”

“It looks bad.”

I smirked, rolling my eyes as I lifted the bloody shirt I wore. I’d run out of spares to change into. Camping and roughing it in the wilderness did that to a man. Underneath the admittedly gory surface of the fabric, my skin looked healthy, if raw. Two gashes ran across my abs, but I’d stitched them up well enough. Nothing looked infected. “I’ll recover.”

He didn’t appear convinced, furrowing his brow as he focused on driving.

“That’s all I intend to do. Recover. Relax.”

“Relax? What’s that?” he joked wryly. “ Relax ?”

I allowed a small smile. Soldiers within the Baranov Mafia Family couldn’t claim to own that skill. Or luxury. Life in an organized crime group was often rife with danger, threats, and mayhem. But I could rest assured that the Boss wouldn’t have to worry about any peril coming to us from the Ilyins anytime soon.

“I’m just glad you’ve made it back,” Rurik said. “For a while there, we assumed we’d lost you.”

“Oh, how little faith you have,” I mocked.

“The Boss estimated you would be on this task for a month. Yet, you were gone for two.”

I shrugged, losing the fight with a wide yawn. Regret hit me at once when I stretched my neck, though. The aches and stinging tightness of a hard hit to my shoulder hadn’t faded yet.

Yeah, I really look forward to kicking back and doing nothing for a while. I deserved a break.

“If it were a simple stakeout for a crime leader, I would’ve been done with it in the first couple of weeks,” I replied. “But Yusuf must have gotten word that someone had placed a hit on him.” That was the only explanation I could think of. Yusuf Ilyin was a paranoid bastard on a good day, but from the first day I took on the mission to stalk him down and kill him, he’d been almost impossible to reach. He’d tripled his security forces. He hid and bunkered inside for long stretches. He’d also moved from one safehouse to another, leaving me too many steps behind to find him again. For three weeks straight, he’d holed up in a cabin with too many layers of guards, cameras, and patrolling dogs for me to slip in and take him out.

“Who, though?” Rurik guessed. “Who would’ve told him about a hit?”

I shot him a side-eye, incredulous that he’d have to ask that. Rurik had been a soldier in the organization for as long as I had been. He knew how this world worked.

After the Ilyin Family tried to set us up and frame us for a drug trade agreement gone wrong, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone in this criminal world that we would retaliate. No one fucked with the Baranovs and got away with it. I wasn’t born a Baranov, but since Oleg Baranov took me in when I was a young orphan, I considered them my blood. Yusuf Ilyin thought he could screw around with us, and in consequence, he had signed his own death sentence.

“He wouldn’t have needed to guess who was coming for him. He’d taken a strike against us with that botched drug trade. He had to have known we’d be coming for him.”

“But the Petrovs were also impacted with that agreement that fell apart,” Rurik reminded me.

I hardly gave a shit what the other Mafia Family felt about a drug arrangement gone wrong. They could recoup their own losses, but it didn’t seem like they’d incurred many. “I thought we had word that the Petrovs hadn’t suffered when that contract fell apart.”

It was his turn to shrug. “They had to have lost something. Maybe they didn’t profit as much as they’d hoped to, but it was still a salvageable situation. Maybe they suspected they’d be screwed over and pulled back before Yusuf could interfere with the day of the big shipment.”

“I didn’t see any Petrovs trying to take out Yusuf,” I said. If the Petrovs were looking to punish the Ilyins by killing Yusuf, one of their highest leaders, then they would’ve been after him just like I was.

“Perhaps that means the Petrovs have aligned with the Ilyins?” Rurik guessed.

“I have no clue.” And I didn’t give a shit, either. Oleg tasked me with hunting down Yusuf and killing him, and that was exactly what I’d done. It had taken me much longer than I’d anticipated, but it was done.

All those weeks of camping lingered as an annoying memory. I’d survived on nonperishables and protein bars to the point that a real, honest-to-God meal with freshly cooked food sounded like Nirvana. I’d slept on the cold forest floor and with the bare minimum of outerwear for comfort that the idea of resting on a mattress with a blanket would be a dream come true.

Stake-outs could be physically challenging, but they were also a trial of fitness in a mental way, too. Being alone and stuck in solitude while scoping out and spying on the target resembled isolation. It felt like a punishment at times, subjected to stay hidden and observant like a predator waiting to pounce. I wasn’t the most social man out there, but two long months of not speaking to anyone or anything would mess with anyone’s psyche.

It was hard to believe that just eight hours ago, I was standing in the broken glass of Yusuf’s window, staring down at his dead body. Three guards had fallen with him.

Here I was, transported to another world, riding along the congested traffic of New York City. One call to Oleg to confirm the job was done was all it took to flip the switch from my isolating assignment to thrusting me back into society, and it was a jarring shift. Rurik had been dispatched to pick me up after my flight in from California, and that was it. Job done. Return complete.

Sooner or later, my mind would kick in. I’d catch up from the lag. Once I got a good night of sleep in my bed, something I’d missed sorely, almost as much as I’d missed my high-quality pillows, I’d feel “right” again.

Yet, it wasn’t a quick thing. Looking out the window at the many busy people walking or biking outside the skyscrapers, I had to click back into what was supposed to be so familiar. All these pedestrians were heading home from their jobs. Bundled in coats and their breath puffing in front of their faces, they faced the routine trek home in the big city. Many more rode the subway and bus. But I was the only Mafia man being chauffeured home from my latest job. I would never be like any of them. I’d never fit in with the “normal” people of the world’s workforce. After they reached their mundane homes, they’d wake up the next morning to rinse and repeat. To do the same gig in the rat race all over again.

What a fucking miserable life that would be.

My time spent staking out then killing Yusuf wasn’t a walk in the park, but I couldn’t imagine my life any other way. I was born for this. I was made to kill and protect.

But…

“I can’t wait to shower, eat the biggest fucking steak I can find, and crash in my bed,” I said on a sigh.

Rurik chuckled. “Hey, maybe you can even find some pussy and get some before the Boss has something else for you to do.”

“He’ll let me take a few days off.” I was confident he would. He’d praised me for getting the hard job done, and he never, ever handed out compliments without sincerity. Hence, compliments didn’t come often for most of the Baranov soldiers.

“I don’t know about that,” Rurik argued.

“Why?” I frowned at him, hating to think of getting up and going on another assignment so soon. “What’s been happening while I’ve been gone?” My contact had been limited. No team could accompany me in taking down Yusuf because of the need for stealth and hiding to get to the bastard.

“Things are always happening,” he replied. “All I’m saying is you shouldn’t get too cozy recovering from this job.”

I smirked, looking back out at the wintry scene of the packed sidewalks. Without the red, green, and gold of holiday décor up everywhere, it all looked so dark, dull, and drab.

“Oleg hasn’t been happy lately.”

I grunted. “When is he?” The big boss wasn’t known for his charm.

“Then again, why would he be?” Rurik mused aloud. “Too many enemies. Too many people stabbing us in the back, like Yusuf.”

“Yeah, but Yusuf isn’t a danger anymore.” It felt damned good to say that after all I put up with to make it happen. I was attacked—by his guards and dogs. I was shot at. I was led on a wild goose chase. I was stuck in the woods for weeks trying to get a clear shot on him.

“Others will be,” Rurik said.

True. I refused to worry, though. “Exactly. That’s why I’m not getting my hopes up to count on a break now. There will always be more assholes to get rid of.” I smiled, excited with a smoother flow of traffic. I was getting this much closer to home. “Until I’m needed, I’m getting that hot shower, big steak, and at least ten hours of sleep.” I chuckled. “Hell, maybe I will look for a piece of ass to spend some time with.”

It would never make sense to settle down with a girlfriend. Anything long-term would end poorly. With my job, my “schedule”, it was impossible to consider devoting myself to anything but the Boss, the Family.

“I’ll—”

My phone rang, cutting me off. One glance at the screen showed that it was the big man himself. The Boss. Oleg Baranov. The leader who would give me a break for a job well done.

I wasn’t doing anything yet. Not if he was summoning me. The calm ease of knowing I wasn’t obligated to be anywhere faded.

“Yes, sir?” I answered, as expected.

Maybe he wants to celebrate a job well done with me. Personally with a dinner at the mansion. Now, that would be the city’s best steak.

“Lev?” he asked, even though he knew damn well it was me. “It is urgent that I speak with you about your next assignment.”

I squinted my eyes shut and bit back a groan.