Page 25 of Flames

Bought? God, these guys suck.

Mikhael spins on his heel, placing a mask of indifference on his square, bearded face. I follow his motion, turning to face the intruder. Standing behind us is a man that makes my skin crawl. He has tanned skin and pale hair, which might very possibly be a bad hair piece. His face is angular and gaunt. He has a goatee wrapping from his upper lip, around his lips, and down his pointed chin. But it’s his eyes that truly chill me. His icy gaze is filled with simmering rage. Despite his lean stature, I have no doubt this man is dangerous.

“Aleksander,” Mikhael greets coolly. “I’m surprised to see you here tonight. I heard you’d been sent on a special assignment.”

The newcomer’s eyes flash with some type of emotion I can’t quite peg. He seems angry and excited. My entire body is begging me to flee, recognizing the threat that this man poses.

“As the Pakhan’s right hand man, I would not be anywhere else tonight,” Aleksander says with each word enunciated slowly and precisely in a way that makes my skin crawl.

“And where is nachal’nik?” Mikhael asks casually, as if he hasn’t been looking for the leader of the Bratva all night.

“Preoccupied,” Aleksander responds as his gaze turns to me. I resist the urge to recoil in discomfort. “Not your usual type, medved.”

“Who I fuck is none of your business,” Mikhael responds coldly before I can open my mouth. “Come,” he states as he offers me his outstretched arm. I gladly accept and let him lead me away.

“The Falcon,” Mikhael whispers to me as soon as we’re out of earshot. “The man we’re here to bring down.”

My arm is looped through his elbow as we weave through couples and crowds. Occasionally, Mikhael nods to someone, but we do not stop to speak to others as he guides me across the ballroom. I look over my shoulder, making sure we’re not being tracked, but Aleksander is wrapped up in a conversation with a big chested blonde woman. My heels click against the black marble floor as we slowly make our way around the outside of the large ballroom. The decor here is much nicer. Clearly, the Pakhan has better taste than Felicity.

“Do you have a plan?” I whisper-yell into his bicep. “Besides sipping whiskey and looking like a grumpy brute?”

“We’re going to break into the Pakhan’s office,” Mikhael begins to explain.

Nope.

“Steal his ring. The Solentsevskaya Sem’ya ring.”

Absolutely not.

“Then you’re going to place it on The Falcon.”

Fuck no.

“When the Pakhan sees Aleksander with his ring, he’ll think he’s trying to start a coup, will eliminate The Falcon, and make me his number two.”

I stop dead in my tracks, pulling Mikhael, who spins, to look at me. My mouth hangs open slightly as I try to formulate words to express how utterly ridiculous this plan is.

“That plan is fucking stupid,” I balk. Apparently, I’m not going tactful on this one. But seriously—is this a Scooby-Doo movie?

“The plan is not stupid, malen’kiy krolik.” His voice is a low growl of warning as he turns on me, stepping into my face and looming over me. His meaty fingers reach out, clasping around my face, and digging into my cheeks. “Aleksander has been ignoring the Pakhan’s orders.” His voice is so low and quiet that I can barely hear it even though he’s right in front of me. “I’ve been trying to catch him in the act but I’ve failed so far. He’s been stealing from the Brotherhood, funneling money to himself.” A thief among thieves—I’m shocked. “And he’s been getting involved in the skin trade under the Pakhan’s own nose.”

That information sends a chill down my spine. Stealing money from rich assholes is one thing, taking innocence from those who have no voice in the system is a special level of evil. My resolve sets in.

“The Pakhan doesn’t approve of selling humans?” I ask.

“Absolutely not,” Mikhael spits back almost instantly, his nostrils flaring. “Selling guns to men, stealing from the wealthy, running counterfeit goods through shipping yards—those are our primary means of business. The Pakhan himself has personally taken it upon himself to eliminate any from The Organizatsiya who would dare hurt women or children.”

Something inside me falters. I should really, really hate these men, and yet… perhaps there’s honor among some thieves.

“That’s how I met Felicity. She was a young woman that Aleksander had kidnapped. He was going to sell her. I found her cold and alone and scared in the back of a truck one night when I stopped him to talk. I’m not sure what it was, maybe the way she looked at me—pleading for the pain to stop, but I wouldn’t let him take her. I took her home. She never left.” He shrugs, letting go of my face.

“Yet, you kidnapped me,” I accuse him as I pop a hip and glare, trying to appear less moved than I am.

“I did not hurt you, did I?”

He’s not wrong. I may not like Mikhael, and I certainly have a lot of feelings about Felicity. But they’re not evil. I recognized the feeling of disgust and instant panic when I was near The Falcon.

“Fine,” I relent. “We will try your stupid plan. But—” I level him with the most serious look I can manage. “You can’t let Aleksander leave with me. I can’t—I won’t.” My voice breaks as I try to find the words.