Nikolai: The Complete Collection

1. Nikolai

1

NIKOLAI

“ Y ou have the right to remain silent…”

I drown out the rest of Detective Franco’s frequently spoken statement. I’ve become a pro at being detained over the past four years.

My rap sheet is as long as my arm, yet I’ve not spent one night behind bars. I could compliment that to the wisdom of my family lawyer, Erik Monstrateo, but I could never be accused of being humble.

Thirty witnesses watched me pierce a beer bottle into a man’s neck a mere second after I smashed it over his head, but despite all of that, I guarantee you none will come forward as a witness. They’d rather face prosecution for obstructing justice than rat me out because they know as well as the next man, the only way to stay alive in my industry is by keeping your mouth shut.

You don’t live a hard and fast life as I have without amassing a reputation. Mine is now as feared as my brother’s once was. I was the joker, the partier, the ultimate playboy, whereas Rico was all about facts, figures, and ensuring he only strayed as far as the leash his little kitty placed on him would allow.

It all changed when he was killed.

I hope those short weeks of marital bliss were the highlights of his life as all he has now are veins as cold as ice and the constant view of dirt.

Rico was executed by a Russian operative while endeavoring to keep alive a promise he’d made to his wife the night they wed. His death hit me like a wrecking ball. I was a fucking mass of destruction hell-bent on avenging his death no matter the cost.

We weren’t close when he was killed, but I couldn’t forget the years where our bond was tighter than one we would have achieved if we’d had the same blood. He protected me as well as I protected him until the person we needed protection from the most was each other.

Greed is a horrible thing, but it has nothing on vengeance.

My mother believed that more than anyone.

I arrived at Hopeton the afternoon of Rico’s murder, ready for warfare. My operation nearly folded when the man responsible for killing Rico was found hanging in his jail cell shortly after his arraignment.

Carnage still prevailed, but it was off the FBI and local law enforcement radar. The Bobrovs were thirsty for blood, but revenge will forever triumph those seeking power.

Many of Kirill’s men, including Viktor, the man I’m wordlessly commanding to stand down before he slits Detective Franco’s throat, jumped ship when Kirill’s fleet began to sink.

Viktor’s desertion of the sanction he was born in has served him well the past three years as will his ability to follow orders when he backs away from Detective Franco with only the slightest groan.

Having one of my men kill Detective Franco would be the equivalent of snorting powdered sugar off a whore’s breasts—unsatisfying and lackluster.

I’d rather toy with him for a little longer before showing him who really runs this town.

It isn’t a man who earns forty thousand a year.

Besides, there’s nothing wrong with having enemies. They ensure life remains interesting. If I’ve learned anything in my almost twenty-nine years, it is enemies who keep things honest. The men you class as family are who you need to watch the closest.

The man I call “father” assures this truth never strays far from my mind. He wanted a son. My mother birthed him his demise. He just doesn’t know it yet.

After securing zip ties around my wrists, Detective Franco yanks me to my feet. While he walks me to his unmarked cruiser, I take in the tossed-up nightclub.

Like all fights I commence, my crew was eager to back me up. Several members of the Petretti crew lie lifeless on the battered wood floors of a nightclub I purchased not long after my twenty-first birthday. The flutter in the bloody spit in the corners of their mouths reveals they’re still breathing.

They’re down for the count.

Knocked out.

Lucky to be alive.

They were given reprieve since they weren’t the ones standing before the court.

When Rico died, I took up his position of judge, jury, and executioner for the Popov reign. It forced me to mature and look at things from another perspective, and it’s the sole reason I only stabbed the plaintiff in the neck instead of slitting his throat as craved.

I issued mercy—shockingly.

It was the first time, and in all honesty, I don’t see it happening again any time soon.

Leniency is for the weak.

I learned that the hard way thirteen years ago.

A blood-smeared grin curls my lips when Detective Franco advises me to watch my head a meager second before he slams it into the roof of his cruiser.

He’s pissed. Justly so. It’s not every day a law-abiding citizen chooses to slip into bed with a mafia prince.

I treated his sister like a real-life motherfucking princess, only palming her off to my men once I’d had my fill, which was a record-breaking eight hours.

Attachments don’t work for me.

Never have.

Never will.

Despite Detective Franco’s beliefs, his baby sister isn’t being forced to stay at Clarks, my offsite compound two miles from the Popovs’ heavily manned quarters. None of the whores are there against their will. They stay with the hope I’ll make one of them my queen.

There’s a fat chance of that ever happening, but as long as they keep my dick warm, there’s no reason to kill their eagerness. The more I keep their hope alive, the better they serve my men. My crew works hard, so it’s only fair they play hard as well. Hell is even hotter when you’re surrounded by tits, ass, and blow.

Detective Franco wants to smash the smirk off my face with his fists when I say, “I’ll be sure to tell Alice you said hello when I walk away without a conviction today… once I’ve finished fucking her in the ass, of course.”

It takes four riot officers to hold him back from his patrol car, but no amount of muscle can withhold the dozen threats he issues me. He tells me I’m going to regret the day I was born and how he’ll ensure I spend my remaining years in hell.

I could tell him I’m already here, but where’s the fun in that?