Twisted Throne (Bratva Born #2)

6. Dimitri

Dimitri

“This city is a building site,” Alexis observes as our private car glides through the streets of London. We are on our way to Volkov’s club.

“Always has been,” Jacob mutters.

I’ve barely noticed anything outside the windows because I’m obsessively worrying about Adriana and what the hell that sick bastard is doing to her. I hope she’s okay. Volkov said a woman named Larissa, the trainer who Barnaby uses, will get word to Adriana to hang on and that help is coming.

I idly glance at the impressive buildings and think that in a different frame of mind I’d be enjoying all the history around us. But as it is, I’m a ghost gliding through these ancient streets.

We reach the front of a large, imposing building. Fancy . The driver steps out of the car and rushes around to hold the door open for me. I get out and dip my head at him in thanks. Alexis and Jacob follow me, and we climb the steps to the front of the club. It's daytime, not even lunch yet, and I'm not sure whether or not the place is open, but there's a buzzer discreetly tucked to one side of the shiny black door. I press the buzzer and wait. There's no intercom or anything like that. A few minutes later, just as I'm about to press again, the door opens, and a gentleman dressed in a penguin suit ushers us inside.

“Welcome, Mr. Radenko and Mr. Baranov.” His voice is rich and posh. He sounds like the damn king, never mind a butler. “Let me show you to your rooms, gentlemen,” he says. “Mr. Volkov will meet with you at two in his study. I will come for you and take you there.”

He leads us to an elevator, and we head up to what seems to be the top floor of the building. There's a heavy glossed door to our left and then a hallway off to our right. The butler leads us down the hallway to the right. “You have a room each here, among the guest suites,” he says.

He opens two doors next to one another and gestures me to go in the first one and for Alexis to go into the second. Then he pushes open the door opposite for Jacob.

My stepfather thanks him. “I’m going to take a shower and a nap. See you both later.”

“See you soon,” I say to him.

I nod at Alexis as he walks into his room, and he returns the gesture before disappearing and closing the door. We will speak before the meeting with Nikolai as I want to make sure we're on the same page.

More of my men are here, but they've rented a house a few doors down from Volkov’s club. I’ve brought a small team of five with me, and right now they're organizing the delivery of a cache of weapons. I know what Nikolai told me about being armed, and we won’t be entering his friend’s club packing, but there will be some of my men stationed to one side. They’ll be armed to the hilt. There is no way I'm going in there vulnerable, especially when that piece-of-crap aristocrat has my littleblue.

The space I’ve entered is simple but expensive. It looks like a generic, high class hotel room. There's a bathroom to one side, a small hallway, and then a large bedroom. A floor-to-ceiling closet lines one wall, and the back wall houses a large bed with two bedside drawers next to it. Above the bed is a modernist painting. The windows beckon me, and I walk to the edge of the room to look down. Below me is London in all its busy, rushed glory. Under different circumstances I would probably relish the chance to enjoy the city. It's one of the world's great capitals, and one I've never had the chance to get to know. These aren't those circumstances, though. I'm not here as a tourist, but here to bring back something that is mine .

I place my bag on the bed and unzip it as I pull out the few items of clothing that I brought with me and hang them in the closet. We were told to bring suits for the masked ball tomorrow night. I did, but now it's creased from the journey. I'm sure that this place will have someone who can steam it for me.

I look around the room but can find no minibar. I need a drink, so I head out the door, back down the corridor, and take the elevator to the ground floor. When we walked through the foyer, I noticed a bar to one side. I wander in there now and pause at the entrance to take it all in.

This place is opulent. The room is dark, and the seating isn't comprised of modern, hard chairs, but deep red sofas made from leather, and beautiful armchairs that look like you could sink into them for hours and never get uncomfortable. The tables between the chairs and the sofas are rich walnut, and the walls are lined with dark bookshelves full of what look to be classic leather-bound texts. A long walnut bar curves around one corner of the room, and I stroll over. There's a barman polishing glasses, and he looks up at me in surprise.

“We're not open yet, sir,” he says.

“Give the man what he wants,” a slightly accented voice comes from the far corner of the room. I turn around to see a dark-haired man, sitting reading the Financial Times .

His hair is so dark it shines under the dim lights, and it’s swept back from his forehead, giving him even more of a regal air than his features already provide. There's a coffee on the table in front of him, and he takes a sip as he nods at me.

I recognize Volkov from the pictures.

“Scotch on the rocks,” I say to the barman. He fixes my drink, handing it to me in a heavy tumbler with a thick napkin placed underneath.

I take the drink and head over to where Nikolai Volkov is sitting. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you before our meeting,” I say. “Just needed a drink.”

He glances at me with striking eyes, which glow with the same color as my drink. “That’s fine; you’re not disturbing me. The paper is boring today. Every day now it’s the same.” He sighs. “The world gets more fucked and dangerous.”

He doesn’t sound too sad about it.

“Makes it easier for people like me to make money.” He grins.

I laugh at that.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” I say.

He shrugs. “It’s not just for you. There are others on their way who want this man, Barnaby, dealt with and might wish to speak with him.”

I frown. “I was looking forward to taking him back to America and spending some quality time with him. After all, he took what was mine.”

He sips at the coffee again. “You’ll need to speak to my other guests about that later. I think they’d very much like to question him because he could lead them to this auction ring.”

“He fucking took what is mine. In our world that means I have the right to do with him as I please.”

His eyes narrow, and his lips harden. “Your world is not my world. We all have different rules. Take it up with the others. I’m not getting involved other than to facilitate this, and I’m only doing that because you’ll owe me, and so will they.”

“Who is they ?” I ask, but at that moment a stunning redhead walks into the room.

She glances around the bar, and then her gaze lands on us, and she grins as she walks over to Volkov.

“There you are, darling. I’m off to the gallery.”

“You have security?” Nikolai asks.

“Of course.”

“Take Viktor as well, just to be sure.”

He slides his phone from his pocket and sends a message.

The woman sighs. “You are extra stressy today; what’s going on?”

“Heightened threat,” Volkov mutters. “His fault.”

He points to me, and I want to object, but the woman looks my way, and her smile is warm and genuine. “Oh, you must be Mr. Baranov.”

She holds out a delicate hand for me to shake. “I’m Sienna. I've heard about what happened to your girlfriend, and I'm so sorry. Anything at all that I can do to help in any way, let me know.”

“You won't be helping at all,” Volkov says. “You'll stay right out of all of it. I don't need to be worrying even more than I already do.”

Sienna rolls her eyes, and her lips twitch, but she doesn't argue. A man wearing a dark sweater and light blue jeans walks through the bar toward us. He's tall and broad, and he has a face that screams don't mess with me . His nose looks like it's been broken more than once, and his jaw is set in an angle that speaks to permanent annoyance.

“Hey, Viktor,” Sienna says with a smile. He grunts a reply, mock salutes Volkov, and then crooks his elbow, holding it out for Sienna to take like some old-fashioned gentleman from a black and white movie. She snorts but slips a hand through his elbow, and he leads her out of the room.

Volkov must really trust his men if he doesn't mind his wife linking arms with one of them in that way.

“I’d cut his arm off for that,” I say.

Volkov looks up from his paper, brows raised slightly. “Then you'd be a hot-headed fool,” he says. “That man would lay down his life in a heartbeat for her. It's important that she likes the three Vs enough to trust them. I have absolutely no worries that he would do anything untoward. I trust him with her life, you see.”

I consider his words, and my brain catches on one of the things he said. “The three Vs?”

“Yes, Viktor, Vadim, and Valentin. My closest enforcers.”

His closest? How many does the man have? I'm realizing his operation may be much bigger than I'd initially believed.

He stands and folds the paper before offering it to me. I shake my head. He gives another of those small uninterested shrugs and walks around the table. “I'll see you in a few hours,” he says. “Make full use of the facilities, and if you want anything to eat, just ask. I'll tell the staff to make sure you're looked after.”

“I could do with someone to get the creases out of my suit for tomorrow,” I say.

“Of course; I'll send someone up later.”

And he's gone, and I'm left alone with my drink, my increasingly sour stomach, and the ringing in my ears, which has reached a crescendo.

Two hours later and I'm freshly showered, changed, and sitting with my stepfather and Alexis in my room as we discuss what it is that we want from this. Jacob agrees with Volkov that if there are other people who need to interrogate Barnaby, I should let them. He says our only goal should be to get Adriana back safe and sound. Whilst I know he's right, and that's all that I really care about, it sits badly with me to let the man who took her go.

“At least let's hear what they have to say,” Jacob argues. “And find out who they are exactly.”

“Fine, I’ll listen to them, and then I'll make a decision.”

A knock at the door means it’s time to go.

Jacob pats my upper arm, and we head out the door to follow the butler as he leads us down the corridor.

He takes us through the large glossy doors but avoids the elevators and leads us down a turn in the hallway, before stopping outside another door and knocking.

“Come in,” a voice says.

The butler opens the door and gestures for us to step inside.

The first thing I notice is the huge man sitting at a bar stool, a large glass of what looks like iced water sweating on the bar in front of him. Nikolai is behind the bar fixing a second drink.

The man is absolutely massive, but I recognize him, as does Jacob. My stepfather grins and steps into the room. He strolls over to the man and slaps him good-naturedly on the back.

“It's good to see you, Damen. Wasn't expecting you to be here in person.”

“Well, things are moving more quickly than I first believed,” Damen says. “In relation to the wider situation going on here now. With the auction and the arms movement, I mean.”

“Your father-in-law wants you to put a stop to things?” Jacob sits next to Damen.

“Can’t have people running guns through the Med and then getting fucking stranded and it becoming an issue during a pre-election year,” Damen replies.

“Is he really going to stand for election?” Jacob asks.

Damen shrugs. “Not sure. The conservatives have a good chance of winning, and they want him on board. So, he might. Maya isn’t happy.” Damen refers to his wife.

“Why? Doesn’t she want him to be in politics?”

“She votes for the socialists,” Damen says with a deep laugh.

“Oh, so he’s picked the wrong side.”

“Not for our business interests.” Damen shrugs. “But Maya votes with her heart and principals. Plus, she worries for his safety. Things are volatile still in Greece. Anyone in politics is inherently in danger. Having a position in the government could give Stamatis so much power, though. I don’t think he’s made his mind up yet. His wife, Rhea, isn’t keen either.”

“She a socialist too?” Jacob asks with a laugh.

Damen grows more serious. “It’s not that; she has things in her background she doesn’t relish coming to light. Between you and me, if Stamatis declines, it will be for her and because of her and no other reason.”

Alexis is standing by me, and I glance at him to see he's taking in the room. I follow his gaze and look around. It's an impressive space for sure, large and opulent but in an understated way. The floor is oiled parquet, and it glows a rich warm brown under the expensive lighting. A huge desk dominates one corner of the room, all sleek lines and modern curves. There’s a small table by the window with Eames chairs flanking it.

The desk is over the top, but it’s the painting behind the desk that grabs my attention. I walk over to it. It’s by a Russian artist called Nicholas Roerich.

“Is that genuine?” I turn to ask Nikolai.

“That's an insulting question,” he says. “Of course it is.”

“I didn't mean to be insulting,” I reply. “It's just that they're rare. Hard to get hold of.”

“You know your art,” he says with a note of surprise in his tone.

“Now who's being insulting?” I laugh as I take in the painting, marveling at the beautiful simplicity of it.

“Great Russian art really is wonderful, isn't it?”

I almost jump out of my skin at the quiet, deep voice from the dark recess of the room. I turn and look to see it comes from a man with dark hair sitting on the sofa, hidden away in the dim light of that corner.

I walk toward him and as I near, a shiver runs down my spine. Dark hair, tall, lean but muscular, and with those strange almost preternatural gray eyes. I know who I'm looking at. Someone who is almost more legend than man.

The Ghost himself is in this meeting, and things have just taken a whole different turn.

“Andrius,” I say. “I don't think we've ever had the pleasure.”

“No, we have not.” He regards me coolly but doesn't stretch out his hand to shake.

The door to the study opens, and another man strolls in. This guy is tall and almost as big as Damen, but friendlier seeming, with his craggy, lived in, kind of a face.

“Would you like a drink?” Nikolai asks the newcomer.

“I'd love a beer,” he says. His accent is American, and when he's offered the beer, he takes it and walks over to where I'm standing, to join Andrius on the sofa.

As he sits, he looks at me, pauses midway, half crouching, and sticks out his hand. “John,” he says. “You must be the knight in shining armor who's here to rescue the damsel.”

I take his hand and shake.

“That will be me,” I say. “But you can call me Dimitri; it’s less of a mouthful than knight in shining armor.”

John chuckles and takes his seat. He crosses one foot over the opposite knee and leans back as he sips the drink. Andrius taps two fingers over the top of the glass in front of him. Full of a clear liquid, no ice, I presume it's vodka.

The door opens yet again, and Sienna walks in, followed by another woman. The second woman isn’t classically beautiful the way Sienna is, but she’s glamorous and confident. Her back is straight, and she walks in towering heels to the bar. She doesn’t wait to be offered a drink but steps behind the bar, opens a fridge door, and waves a bottle of champagne in front of Volkov’s face.

“May I?” she asks.

“Help yourself,” he answers.

“Sienna?”

“Why not?” she replies.

“Did you get everything done at the gallery?” Volkov asks his wife.

“Yes, and I’ve ordered some work from a new artist. She’s really interesting; I’ll show you some of her stuff later.”

“Maya, darling, pour me a glass, will you?” Damen asks.

Ah, so this is his wife. The daughter of Stamatis Kantos. I’ve heard a lot about her and all of it good.

“What's your poison of choice?” Volkov asks me, directing my focus from Maya who has just popped the champagne like a pro.

“You know,” Andrius says laconically, “asking such a question in company like this could get you shot. Some people might take you seriously.”

“I don't like poison as a weapon for murder, if I have other options,” Nikolai says. “It takes too long, and it strikes me as a distinctly feminine form of doing away with one's enemies.”

“That's a rather sexist statement,” Maya grumbles as she pours two glasses of champagne.

“How would y ou do away with someone then?” Volkov asks her.

“Me? I’d slam my heel into their eyes.” She bends down and lifts the shoe from her foot to hold the heel in front of Nikolai’s face. The red sole reminds me of blood, and the heel is pointed to help. “Imagine this going right through your eye,” she says with relish.

“I'd rather not,” he replies drily.

Once the drinks are all served, we converge around the bar. The ladies are both offered seats, but Maya chooses to stand, while Sienna sits. Damen stays in his seat, Andrius takes the far barstool, and Nikolai sits next to his wife. The rest of us stand around the bar, and the conversation begins in earnest.

“We were told by Nikolai that my son may not be able to take the man who has his woman back to America with us.” Jacob taps the bar with two fingers as if thinking. “At first, I wondered why this would be, but now that I see who you brought with you, Damen, things are starting to slot into place. I presume it is you who wishes to talk with Barnaby Kane at leisure, Andrius?”

Andrius gives a brisk nod.

I clear my throat. “Can I ask why?”

“He can lead me to the people running the auction.” Andrius fixes me with that bone-chilling gaze of his.

There aren't many people who scare me. This man, however, and his reputation, definitely give me pause.

“You're going after the entire auction group?” This surprises me. From what we've gathered, it's an incredibly powerful group, and I don't understand why these men want to put themselves on their radar. “Is that not dangerous?” I ask. “Not just for you but for people who you love? If they find out you're going after them, with the power they have, they’ll come after you tenfold.”

“It's going to be a kind of pincer movement,” Damen says. “I'm going to go after the people running the arms. The ones who would have been resupplying Ari and Dorian. We will take them out. Andrius will be dealing with the people running the auction.”

“There won't be any risk of retaliation,” Andrius says, “because they won't notice me coming for them, and if I do my job properly, none of them will be left alive to retaliate or tell the tale.”

“And you're helping him?” I look at the big American, John, if I recall correctly.

He nods. “Yep.”

Christ, it’s like getting blood out of a stone getting information out of these two. “I understand why, in our world you keep your cards close to your chest, but at this moment in time, we all have the same goals.” My patience is thin.

Still, if I really want to keep littleblue safe, it’s in my best interest for everybody involved in this auction to be disposed of. Even if Barnaby is taken out of the equation, it doesn't mean that there might not be other people who still want her back. “Can I help in any way?”

Jacob clears his throat next to me, but I ignore him. This is going off script, and it's not something I've asked him for his support in doing, but in this moment, I realize not only is it the only way to keep littleblue safe, but it's the right thing to do. I used to be a force for good in this world, and then an injury led me down a dark path. I don't regret it, but if I can do this one thing to balance the scales a little in my favor with the guy upstairs, I will.

“You want to help?” Andrius asks, a little incredulous.

“If I can. These people were facilitating the movement of someone who matters to me.” It's the first time I've admitted, even a little, what she means to me, but if I'm going to become the kind of man deserving of her, I have to be brave enough to admit my feelings. I still don't know if I can be what she needs, but everything I've learned about my father in the past couple of days is helping me see things in a new light. “I want them out of the equation just as much as you do.”

“No offense,” the big guy says, “but Andrius and I bring a certain skill set to this operation. I mean, they don't call him The Ghost for nothing. He could slip into your bedroom, and you wouldn't even know he was there until the blade sliced your throat. He can bypass almost any security system you put in place. As for me, I have my own set of skills. I was used a lot for extractions when I was in the military.”

“What unit?” I ask.

“SEALs,” he answers. “You?”

“Is it that obvious?” I laugh.

“Pretty much from the moment I saw you.”

“Marines,” I say. “Recon initially.”

“Damn,” he says. “Good unit.”

“Is that Special Forces, the same as Priest?” Damen asks.

Priest, must have been his nickname in his unit, I guess, and it intrigues me.

“Not really,” I answer.

“While it might not be Special Forces officially,” Priest says, “it’s certainly Special Forces capable. You guys do a lot of similar work.”

“I ended up as a raider,” I finish.

Priest whistles. “Well, hello, brother.”

I grin at him, and for a moment I remember the joy of the camaraderie of those days.

“If he wants to help”—he points at my chest while looking over at Andrius—“let him.”

My stepfather clears his throat again, and I wonder how he's taking this conversation because I've not run any of this by him. What I see on his face hits me in the chest. There’s pride glowing deep in his gaze, and his smile is warm. This is what I never got as a child from Anton. Jacob gave me acceptance from the very beginning. “That's if you're okay with it, of course,” I say to him.

“Son, if when you get that girl of yours back, you still want to go off and play soldiers with these guys for a while, then be my guest.” He smirks. “I’m not sure your zeal for it will last once she's back.”

Priest laughs. “Copy that. The flush of new love, how I remember it.”

“On a serious note,” Andrius says, “if you rescue Adriana and there’s still any risk, I’d rather you keep her safe. We have a lot of men, and you letting me have Barnaby is more than enough, and something I’m grateful for. If we ever need any help in the future, we know where to come.”

He holds my gaze, and I understand that this means we’re tied to them now. They need us, we will be expected to answer, but vice versa. I can pick up the phone and ask for help, and they’ll give it. I nod.

“So how do you plan on going about taking down a shadowy cabal that seems to operate across every continent?” Jacob lifts his gaze and looks directly across the bar at Andrius.

“Like I say, they won't even seem him coming,” Priest answers.

“It might take years,” Andrius says. “That's fine. I'm in no rush. I don't want to be away from the base on Corfu for too long. Violet hates it when I'm gone, and I hate being away from her and our daughter. It suits me to do this the slow way, one at a time. I also like to think of them sitting there, sweating .” His face slowly transforms into a smile, but it's not a warm one. It's cold but hard edged.

The smile widens as he thinks. “Imagine it, they'll find out that one by one they've been picked off. They have no idea by who. They’re never going to think of us; why would they? They haven't come after anyone related to us. They haven't crossed our paths. Yet myself and Priest will make this our mission over the next however many years it takes.”

“Why?” Sienna speaks up. “I mean, why does it matter to you so much? As you say they haven't taken anyone who is close to you.”

“It’s his thing,” Maya whispers dramatically.

Andrius narrows his gaze at her, but his lips twitch. It seems she can charm just about anyone. “I don't like what they do. I have a wife and a daughter. I lost my sister to people like this. I swore that any chance I had to take them out, I would. So, like the lady says”—he dips his head at Maya—“you might call it my thing.”

“I just want every single person who ever put my Roze’s name in their mouth removed from the planet,” Priest provides.

“Why Priest?” I ask. “As your call sign?”

“Because you tell me something, and I'll take it to the grave,” he says. “What's yours?”

“Babel.”

“Because you speak a lot of languages, I guess.”

“Yes, they’re never anything but predictable when it comes to the naming conventions, I find.”

Andrius huffs out a soft laugh. “While you were all giving each other nicknames, and doing supposedly the hardest training in the world, myself and Konstantin were being hung upside down from a building, covered in pigs blood, and fired at by live bullets. That's the kind of training we did.”

“Is that true?” I ask.

“It’s bullshit,” Damen says. “We trained with them once, and it wasn’t like that.”

“You ex Armed Forces too?” Alexis asks.

“Ex Greek Special Forces. Mountain division,” Damen answers proudly.

“No offense, but you did not train with the Spetsnaz,” Andrius says. “If you did, you would know this is true. We were covered in blood and fired at. That was our training.”

“So, you trained with Silvanov?” I ask Andrius.

“I embedded with him, in war. Spent a week stinking his shit in a hole somewhere being fired at. That was fun times. He’s my brother in every way except for the genes.”

“He didn’t want in on this mission you and Priest have going?” Jacob asks.

“K is back home, making sure the place is safe. We never leave at the same time if we can help it,” Andrius supplies.

“Plus, let’s be honest, he might be your brother from anther mother,” Priest says, “but he doesn’t have your moral zeal. K likes to make money, and he likes power.”

“Sounds like a man after my own heart,” Nikolai says. “I knew there was a reason I liked that fucker best out of all of you.”

Damen slams his hand over his heart. “I am deeply hurt.”

“Shall we get down to plans?” I ask. The camaraderie is fun, but I’m here for a reason.

Nikolai grows serious immediately. “Yes, lets. I have masks for everyone, and I don’t want this to get screwed up.”

Then he tells us the plan.