Nikolai: The Complete Collection

21. Nikolai

21

NIKOLAI

“ W here is he?”

Trey extends his finger to a door at the end of a long, dark corridor. “Dok’s with him. Not sure what happened yet. We ran logistics as you requested.”

His eyes drift to Rico as though unsure he should be speaking in his presence.

With a jerk of my chin, I gesture for Rico to continue without me.

Rico is discreet, but I don’t miss his jaw working side to side before he continues down the hall without uttering a syllable.

He’s not accustomed to taking orders, much less demands from his younger brother.

When blackness engulfs Rico, my eyes stray back to Trey. “What is it?” I ask, reading the unease in his narrowed gaze.

He’s only been a member of my crew for the past three years, but I know him well enough to intuit a reason for the extra crease between his blond brows.

Trey runs a shaky hand over his scalp while saying, “Alexei’s men had the hospital barricaded. I had no choice. I couldn’t get to Roman without first taking down two of his men.”

Air whizzes from my nose. I’d like to pretend I’m shocked Alexei is involved in a war he doesn’t belong in, but I’m not. It would have been foolish for him to pass up an opportunity to weaken my crew. If I were allowed to take down one of the top dogs in our industry without fear of repercussion, I’d be there with bells on and guns loaded. Although I’ll never have proof, I’m confident Alexei’s involvement stems from Vladimir offering him the chance to kill me without consequence.

It’s a pity they underestimated the skill of my men. They may not have decades of experience like their crews, but they have one thing their men will never have. They have me as their leader. My men were not born killers, but they are trained killers, and they are undoubtedly the best marksmen in our field.

“Loss of life is a casualty of war, Trey. Alexei knows that better than anyone,” I reply, shocked by the dread clouding his eyes.

Trey’s kill count over the past three years is as high as mine, so I’m stunned he is concerned about the death of two men. Two lives in a sea of hundreds shouldn’t cause the slightest ripple to his seemingly impenetrable ego, let alone instigate something as weak as panic.

“Yeah, I get that,” he agrees with a bob of his head. “But I don’t see Alexei willing to accept that excuse when he discovers I murdered his son.”

My heart beats in an unnatural rhythm as worry thickens my blood. Unlike Vladimir, Alexei treasures his sons. So much so their lives are more valuable to him than his own.

“Which son?” I grit my teeth, loathing that the unease in his voice has crossed to mine.

“Tristan,” Trey forces out.

I exhale a relieved breath. Although Alexei will still mourn Tristan’s loss with the rampage of a man scorned, I’m glad his loss was a son he birthed with one of his whores instead of his beloved wife.

“Is Alexei aware of the incident?” I inquire, praying he didn’t throw years of training down the drain during a moment of panic.

Trey shakes his head. “No, we cleaned the scene as thoroughly, if not better, than you would have. Their bodies are still in my trunk.”

“Good,” I reply, relief echoing in my tone. “Keep them in there until I say so.”

I lift my brow and glare at him when he attempts to refute my direct order. He may be my most loyal man, but that doesn’t mean he should test my tolerance when it comes to disrespect.

There are rules in this industry, ones even someone as high as me can’t ignore, but if Alexei discovers his son was a casualty of a war he had no right to be in, my effort to find Justine alive will become non-existent.

Considering Justine’s well-being is my absolute priority, delaying a father’s chance for a proper goodbye by a few days isn’t my concern.

“Once Justine is home, I’ll deal with Alexei. Until then, his son’s body will remain in my possession.” I lock my eyes with Trey, ensuring he can see their honesty when I say, “Negotiating Tristan’s return is the only bartering chip I’ll have for you to see out the week with your pulse not flatlining.”

Usually mafia kings retaliate to the death of their children by draining the blood of the men they believe responsible. I won’t let that happen to Trey. He was following my direct order, so if anyone is going to suffer the consequences of Tristan’s death, it will be me.

After forcefully swallowing, Trey mutters, “All right, I’ll gather the men and head to Jim’s. Hopefully some ice will keep away the vultures.” He murmurs his last comment so quietly I’m confident he didn’t want me to hear it.

“Once you’ve got them on ice, gather the rest of the men from Clarks, and then come back here. Until we know Vladimir’s plans for Justine, none of us are getting any sleep.” My jaw spasms during my last sentence.

With every hour that ticks by, my chances of finding Justine unharmed dwindle more and more.

I swear to god, if Vladimir has hurt her, he’ll wish he had killed me thirteen years ago, as his demise will be the slowest and most torturous death I’ve ever issued.

After nodding, agreeing with my demand, Trey strays his eyes to Rico standing at the end of the hall. “Is that who I think it is?” he asks, confusion unmissable in his deep timbre.

“Have you ever seen a ghost, Trey?” I ask, my tone as haunting as I feel.

When he shakes his head, I reply, “You have now.”

Ignoring his shocked gasp, I push off my feet and head for Rico.

“You’re lucky Trey isn’t an original member of my crew, or I would have had to shoot you on sight to save the extermination bill. You let one rat in, you risk an infestation of rodents,” I mutter, stopping to stand beside him.

Rico brushes off my snide remark with a shrug, intuiting my threat is more based on our situation than actual malice.

Although I hate relying on anyone, it’s nice to have someone on my side, supporting me. For now, it’s Rico. By tonight, it will once again be Justine. My Ангел —the strongest and most determined woman I’ve ever met.

When I am king, she will want for nothing. She will be my queen.

After glancing over his shoulder, Rico nudges his head to the door we’re standing next to, motioning for me to enter before him.

He wasn’t joking about scanning every shadow he passes. I don’t know if he realizes how often he does it, but constantly checking his surroundings has occurred often enough for me to notice it— and hate it .

I get he wanted out of this lifestyle, but is the benefit of living outside this realm worth looking like a coward for the rest of your life?

I freeze for a beat, and my mind scrambles. Rico’s quest to escape our father’s clutches wasn’t any more cowardly than mine. It simply happened years later, so why am I judging him as if he is a deserter?

I shouldn’t be, should I?

Setting aside my turmoil for a more appropriate time, I clutch a grime-covered doorknob and swing open the door.

“As stubborn as ever,” I murmur when I spot Roman clutching Dok by the throat, his anger so strong every vein in his body bulges. “Sit the fuck down, Roman, and let Dok do what he needs to do,” I say, entering the room. “You’re not going to be good to anyone if you pass out again.”

Forever testing my patience, Roman takes a minute to consider my suggestion before doing as requested. Grumbling a string of curse words under his breath, he drags his bloodstained shirt over his head before lying face-first on a makeshift hospital bed on his left.

Air hisses between my teeth when I spot the dark bruise circling a bullet wound on the lower left quadrant of his back. From the way the skin around the hole is singed and sucking inward, I can quickly ascertain that he was shot from behind.

I’m even more suspicious that Vladimir is the orchestrator behind Justine’s disappearance. He’s the only person I know spineless enough to shoot a man in the back.

“Just dig it out,” Roman pleads to Dok when he sees him loading a syringe with anesthetics.

Dok’s eyes dart to me, the anxiety in them indubitable. I nod at his silent question, approving him to remove the bullet from Roman’s back minus any numbing agent.

Roman is as stubborn as me. He won’t take anything that will impair his mind until Justine is found. This is one of the ways he is loyal to a fault. Even a bullet can’t slow him down.

I wait for Dok to dig a set of tweezers into Roman’s wound before asking, “Who was it?”

Although I already know the answer to my question, I want Roman to spell it out as well as he did when he warned me that fooling around with Justine would end badly.

I should have listened to him, but with all the blood in my body surging to my cock, I made a costly mistake. Roman knew one taste of Justine would never be enough. He was right.

When Roman shifts his eyes to me, bile surges up my throat. The bitter taste in my mouth has nothing to do with the agony crossing his face from Dok hunting for the bullet. It is the cloud swamping his usually bright eyes. He doesn’t need to speak to answer my question. His eyes tell the entire story.

“I wasn’t standing down this time,” he murmurs through clenched teeth, his volume increasing at the exact moment Dok drags a 185-grain bullet from his back.

Roman bites his palm to muffle his screams when Dok pours alcohol-based disinfectant over the gaping hole. His wounded cries mimic the ones I made when he cleaned and stitched my injuries in a similar room nearly thirteen years ago, and his eyes are firing with as much vengeance.

In hours, my quest for revenge has been sliced into three neat pieces, equally shared between Rico, Roman, and me.

Vladimir has no idea of the wrath about to descend on him. He has not only awakened the devil he resurrected years ago. He has awoken a man hungry for revenge. A man ready to take back what is rightfully his. A man who will make him wish he had never been born.

My desire to kill has always been rampant, but now it is unquenchable. Just as Vladimir beat me into submission thirteen years ago, I will make him pay for his error in judgment. I just need to find him first.

I lock my eyes with Roman’s tormented gaze. “Do you know where he took her?”

My back molars grind together when my voice comes out laced with arrogance. Now is not the time for defiance to get the better of me.

If I want to bring Justine home in one piece, I must keep a calm, collected head. This isn’t a standard game of cat and mouse. This is my life being played out for the world to see. If I fuck this up, there is no going home a second time.

I will be done.

Hanged by my own noose.

If you go against your creator, you can’t lose. There is no option B or second chance, so you either give it your all or walk away before the game even starts.

Considering I’d rather suffer a dozen deaths than be seen as a coward, I’ll face Vladimir head-on. I’ll play his game with the underhanded tactics he used on me my entire life, and I’ll win. That is not a probability. It is a confirmation. This isn’t just about me anymore. This is about Justine—the woman I’d slay a thousand men for.

“They popped one into my back before clocking me over the head, so I’ve got nothing useful,” Roman answers, drawing my focus back to him.

“Haven’t got anything useful, or don’t want to share?”

I’m shocked by the sneer in Rico’s voice. He isn’t usually so hostile. He could kill a man without flinching before he met his wife, but he never slayed without cause, so the icy brutality of his words is shocking.

Roman shoves Dok away from him before rising to a sitting position. The handful of stitches Dok sutured in his wound only closes half the hole in his back, but it looks better than it did minutes ago.

“If you’ve got something to say, boy , I suggest you say it.”

My lips tug at the fury in Roman’s tone. He hasn’t even glanced in Rico’s direction yet but still knew he was in our presence. That is just like Roman, always one step ahead of the game.

Rico crosses his arms in front of his chest, not fazed by Roman’s anger. “Vladimir shoots to kill. If he wanted you dead, he would have shot you in the head. He hates wasting a bullet, so why did he keep you alive?”

Roman laughs, seemingly amused by Rico’s assumption he is a snitch. “You’ve got some hide coming in here and accusing me of tattling. How many years were you working against us? Four? Five? Six?” He hits the nail on the head when Rico’s jaw clenches on six.

Fuck—I had no clue he was in so deep.

Although I am pissed he betrayed men who are like family to him, my anger is only a simmer, not a full boil. The fact the Popov entity has continued trading without incident since his death three years ago proves what he said earlier is true. He never intended to take us down. His sights were set on one man, and one man only—our father.

Suddenly, the knowledge of Roman’s comment smacks into me, slackening my jaw and halting my breathing. “You knew Rico was working with the FBI, but didn’t tell me?”

I try to keep my anger at a simmer. I miserably fail. I tell Roman everything , so the fact he kept this from me not only pisses me off, it places doubt on every conversation we’ve had.

Even though he is nearly double my age, he is my number one man. If I can’t trust him, I can’t trust anyone.

“I had my suspicions,” Roman replies, gingerly standing. “But without concrete evidence, there wasn’t much I could do about it. You idolized your brother, so the chances of you believing me were slim, to say the least.”

My lips twitch. I want to refute his insinuation, but I’m left void of a retort when I see the honesty in his eyes. I did idolize Rico. I still do. He is my brother, even if we don’t share the same blood.

Satisfied he’s calmed the storm looming on the horizon, Roman’s eyes stray to Rico. The pain in his glistening irises deepens when their gazes collide for the quickest second. “You should have told him your plans. That boy went to hell for you, and what did he get in return?—”

“A set of fucking ears. I’m standing here, so stop talking about me as if I ain’t.”

I appreciate that Roman is looking out for me as he has done my entire life, but now is not the time to hash out old shit. Justine has been taken. We have our suspicions about whom, but nothing is set in stone. For what reason, we don’t know. But there’s one thing I do know—until she is returned to me safe and in one piece, nothing else matters.

Not revenge.

Not condemnation.

Nothing.

Stepping into the path of Roman’s slit-eyed gaze, I silently demand the devotion of his eyes. When I get it, I ask, “Tell me what you do know. Even the shit you don’t think is important.”

Sick unease flows through me when the moisture in his eyes triples. Only one time I’ve seen so much wetness in his eyes. It was when he coerced my dislodged fingers back into place following my punishment thirteen years ago.

“Tell me,” I demand, speaking through the lump in my throat.

He breathes heavily before muttering, “When I was drifting in and out of consciousness, there was a mix of murmured voices. Most were male, but one distinct voice broke through the darkness more consistently than the rest.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down violently before he adds, “Justine was a fighter, Nikolai. She fought to the very end.”

I balk, physically shunted by the remorse in his voice. “End?” I ask, my eyes bouncing between his. “What do you mean ‘the end’?” When he remains quiet, the veins in my neck twang and my fists clench tightly. “You have five seconds to answer me before I finish what Vladimir started,” I warn through gritted teeth, my anger growing like an out-of-control wildfire.

Roman would have given it his all to protect Justine, but it doesn’t lessen my fury. I can see in his eyes he is keeping something from me, and considering it is about Justine, my anger is hitting a record-breaking high.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘she fought to the very end’?” I ask again, the hostility of my words leaving no mistake that this will be the last time I’ll ask my question without violence.

Roman waits for me to read the warning in his eyes before disclosing, “When I started coming to, there was a commotion, like someone was in a fight. Not long later, I heard a gunshot, closely followed by a wounded cry. Everything went silent after that.”

“No,” I deny, shaking my head at the silent admission in his glistening eyes. “I’d know if she were dead. I would fucking know it. She’s not dead!” I scream my last sentence, despising the sorrow in Roman’s eyes.

I’d know if Justine were dead. That weak, pitiful beat my heart has been thumping since she walked into my life is still cranking its own unique tune. That wouldn’t be happening if she were dead. It would have died right along with her.

Furthermore, Vladimir wouldn’t kill her without making a mockery of her death. He’s a bully, a man who feeds off fear. A clean death without a parade is worthless to him.

I know Vladimir. I know he doesn’t do a single thing without fanfare. He needs the attention. He craves the attention. Killing Justine in a non-dramatic way makes no sense. He wouldn’t get any benefit out of it, so he wouldn’t do it.

I look at Rico, praying he will back up my admission. He does no such thing. His focus is fixated on a sleek black cell phone in his hand, his eyes as wide as the bullet wound in Roman’s back, and his face as white as a ghost.

“We found Justine,” he murmurs, his low tone revealing I won’t like what he’s about to say next.

Deciding actions speak louder than words, he swivels his cell to face me. Blood roars heat to my cheeks when an image I’ll never forget burns into my retinas.

My Ангел has walked through the gates of hell, and I’m the devil responsible for her incarceration.