Page 67 of Ripping the Odds

“Fuck,” they all said as one.

I didn’t wait to see if they’d follow, I knew they would. Pulling a Glock from the back of my pants, I walked through the rusted sliding doors, aiming my gun at Victor’s head. My brothers did the same. From this distance, it would be hard for any of us to put a bullet between his eyes, but there were other parts of him we could easily hit. Shoulder. Knee. All of which would incapacitate him. The problem was the woman in front of him. Would we be able to take him down without making her collateral damage? It was a risk I’d take if necessary.

Victor put the butt of his pistol against the escort’s temple. “That’s close enough.”

Step by step, we continued across the sidewalk and into the deserted roadway. Halfway across, Victor removed his arm from around the woman’s neck, fisted her hair, and yanked her head back at an awkward angle, until she cried out in pain.

“I said stop,” he yelled, repositioning the gun under her chin.

That time we stopped moving forward, but we didn’t stop moving all together. Mak went left, Kas to the right, while Dimi and I stayed side-by-side. There was no clean shot for any of us. Waiting it out was our only option. Victor was desperate to win, and desperate men made mistakes. I was counting on it.

“What’s your endgame, Vic?” I asked. “Why team up with Machail? He killed your brother, for fuck’s sake.”

“You still don’t know, do you?” He read the confusion on my face and laughed. “You were supposed to die with your parents. If you hadn’t gotten sick at the last minute and missed the trip to St. Petersburg, you would have.”

“How do you know all of this?” Kas questioned.

“Because that’s what I paid for.”

It didn’t come as a surprise. Deep down, I had a feeling Victor played a role in their deaths. What I didn’t know was that he’d wanted to take out our entire family in one fell swoop. Clearly, I’d underestimated his hatred for me.

“That must’ve pissed you off, huh?” I needled him. “Especially after I stopped your little attempt at a coup so easily.”

“I should’ve been the one to take over.” He stood taller, puffing out his chest. “You were just a kid. What the fuck did you know about leading a Bratva family?”

“Successful leaders don’t simply take advantage of opportunities, they create them, not just for themselves but for the people around them. You only took and took, like the universe owed you some great reward because of who your half-brother was. Respect is something earned. You never learned that lesson.”

“Easy,” Dimi warned, but I knew what I was doing. Victor was an egotistical bottom-feeder. He climbed his way to the top by climbing over everyone else. His arrogance was his downfall then, and it would be the same in Gowanus.

“You’ve destroyed your father’s legacy.”

“How? By legitimizing the family? By becoming successful and making enough money that my grandchildren won’t have to work unless they want to? Tell me, Vic, what exactly did I destroy? Teach me the error of my ways.”

“You think you’re better than me?”

“I know I’m better than you.”

He became increasingly agitated. Good. If his focus was solely on me, he might forget about his hostage. He might slip-up enough to give one of the other three guns pointed at him the opportunity to end his bullshit. Worst case scenario, he’d shoot his shot. Literally. Pru would be pissed if I came home with a bullet hole.

“Almost there,” Mak spoke under his breath.

“You’re fucked, Victor. Just admit it.”

I don’t know what flickered through his mind, but I saw the instant the situation went from bad to oh-shit. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to react. His face blanked of all emotion, he hurled the woman forward at the same time he turned his gun on me. Two gunshots pierced the night air. One from Victor, the other from Mak. Dimi hit me from the side, tackling me to the ground. He hissed. I groaned, more from his two hundred plus pounds landing on top of me than anything.

“He’s down,” Kas announced.

“He better be dead,” Dimi grumbled. “Fucker shot me.”

Chapter 12

It’s Your Funeral

Prudence

Even in my sleepy fog, I heard the passcode being keyed into the home security system. My chest warmed. Zak was home. Seconds later, the couch dipped at my hip from his weight where he sat beside me.

“Baby.” He gently shook my shoulder. “Why aren’t you in bed?”