“You wanted to see me?” Niko asked her brother, speaking in English as they always did so that his men wouldn’t know what they were talking about. Niko was wary as to why her brother had called her to his nightclub in the middle of the day. “Is it urgent? Only I’ve got a lot to get done today.”
Ilya turned to scowl at her, before turning to Drago, his right-hand man.
“D’you hear that, man? My little sister thinks she’s the only one who’s busy around here?” He sneered, the expression just pulling the scar down his face tighter, making it appear even whiter against his tanned skin as he turned back to her. “You think I sit on my ass all day and wait for people to do all the work for me?”
“You know that’s not what I said, and it’s certainly not what I meant, Ilya.” Niko frowned. “I work my ass off too, doing the best I can for you and the business. But you know how I hate to be interrupted, as it throws my whole day out. I like to pick Roman up at five o’clock every day. He needs the stability.”
“He gets stability from Noni.” Ilya pointed out. “She looks after him every day, so he’s used to spending time with her.”
“But I’m his mother.” Even though Niko knew he was trying to goad her, she couldn’t help but rise to the bait. Roman was her son, not Ilya’s, and certainly not Noni’s, and Niko refused to let anyone else make decisions about his welfare or upbringing, no matter how dangerous it was to argue with her brother.
She glanced at Drago, but his face remained completely neutral.
Drago had only been on the scene a few years, having quickly risen through the ranks of her brother’s men once Ilya realised the guy was not only built like an ox, but was smart with it.
He could be an Ok guy when her brother wasn’t around, treating her almost like she was his own kid sister. In fact, when her brother wasn’t around, and Drago could relax a little, she thought he quite reminded her of a short-haired Charlie Hunnam, the British actor who starred in that American biker series Ilya liked to watch. Smart and kinda sexy.
Unfortunately, when Ilya was present, which was most of the time, Drago was her brother’s guy, and Niko had better not forget it.
“Yes, I think we’ve established you gave birth to Roman.” Ilya nodded. “And you’re going to have a lot more time to spend with him this week.”
Niko looked at her brother strangely, waiting for him to finish the thought.
Ilya could be serious one minute, joking the next, teasing or tormenting her, depending on what mood he was in.
“Are you going to keep being cryptic, or are you going to explain whatever it is that’s on your mind?” Niko asked, trying to keep the attitude from her voice.
Ilya shrugged, as though the whole conversation was starting to bore him.
“Noni has been taken to hospital.” He informed her, as though the act of speaking was too dull to bother with.
Niko’s immediate response was one of elation, that her beautiful child would be away from the old crone for a few days, but then she realised that was not the reaction she was expected to have.
“Really? Poor Noni. What’s wrong with her?” She tried to sound sympathetic.
Drago caught her eye and with his back to Ilya, he flashed her a wide grin, his green eyes lighting up with mirth, telling her he knew exactly how much she hated the old woman.
“Maybe appendicitis?” Ilya guessed. “Anyway, it seems certain she won’t be around to take care of Roman this week.”
Niko’s heart stopped. Was Ilya suggesting that she stay home and look after her son instead of accompanying him on the auction trip?
“So, he’ll have to come with us.” Ilya announced. “Vanya can look after him while you’re busy with your duties, and then when you’ve finished, I’ll have Vanya available to take care of me.”
Vanya was Ilya’s latest whore, and though Niko had nothing personal against the woman, if Ilya’s boasting was anything to go by, the only two things she seemed to have a talent for were blow-jobs and anal sex. Childcare hadn’t appeared on her CV once.
“Does Vanya know how to take care of a child?” Niko frowned at her brother. “I’m not sure if I trust her with Roman. He has too many allergies and dietary needs which I don’t think she’ll be able to cope with.”
“Well, she’s been looking after him for the last two hours and he hasn’t come to any harm yet.” Ilya grinned. “And unless you want to stay here with Roman while we take the cargo to Rotterdam, then there’s not much alternative. Of course, I can’t guarantee that my men won’t take advantage if you’re not there to stop them. You know what they’re like if they’re left to their own devices.”
Niko knew he was goading her, but she also knew he was right.
Ilya didn’t pay too much attention to the condition of the women when they reached the selling point, but he was at least prepared to humour Niko when she argued that the product was more valuable if it wasn’t bruised and battered. It helped sway Ilya that Drago had backed her up.
Niko had insisted it was more important to their clients to receive quality merchandise, so if she told the men to back the fuck off and keep their hands and other body parts away from the cargo, then with Ilya’s backing, and Drago’s fierce glare, that was exactly what they did.
This trip was more important to Ilya than ever, because of the new partners who were arranging an auction to sell the women. Depending on how things panned out, this could be either the first of what could be many auctions, or it could be the one and only, but either way, it was crucial that she be around to stop the women from coming to any harm. She had explained this to Ilya until she was blue in the face, but the only words she’d really needed to repeat were ‘more valuable’.
In the past, Ilya had been happy to sell the women to the brothels and pimps in the big cities in France, Holland, Belgium, and Germany. England was another ideal destination in Ilya’s opinion, but getting the cargo into the UK was always much more problematic.
When they’d been contacted by a trusted acquaintance, who claimed to have an auctioneer and big-spending buyers available, the potential to make five or ten times the money for each of the women was too much for Ilya to resist.
Niko had been the one to see the real opportunity such an alliance would create, and it had taken almost six months of negotiations to reach this point. She was not going to have it fucked up by not being there for the final delivery.
“I’ll see for myself how well Vanya has looked after Roman when I pick him up.” Niko scowled. “If I don’t think she’s up to it, I’ll find someone I think is capable.”
“Please yourself.” Ilya shrugged. “But make sure you don’t let Roman be a distraction. You need to understand where your priorities lie.”
Niko almost spat in her brother’s face. She was a mother, so there was no question where her priorities would be.
“Ilya, I have done your bidding on and off for the last three years, and never let you down once.” Niko injected a hurt tone to her voice. “I would have thought that by now you would have started to appreciate everything I’ve done for you, especially all the extra work I’ve done to get this deal set up. And yet you sit there questioning my loyalties and priorities. Sometimes, brother, I think you just say these things to be cruel to me. Mama and papa would turn in their graves hearing the way you speak to me.”
Ilya glanced up at her, and for a moment Niko wondered if she’d pushed him too far.
Eventually he sighed and stood up, walking over, and pulling her into a hug.
“Moving guns and drugs is no different to moving women, Niko. I can’t have you treating the human cargo any differently. And if I see you fucking up, I can’t treat you softly or my men will think I’ve turned into some kind of pussy, and either you or I will wind up dead.” He said quietly, kissing the top of her head. “I know you work hard, Niko. And you’re a good mama to Roman.”
He pushed her away and went back to sit at his desk.
“Now, fuck off out of here and do some work.” Ilya growled, not even bothering to look at her.
Niko turned and walked out without another word, but inside she was fist-pumping.
She’d gotten through her brother’s hard shell, and proven, if only to herself, that the old Ilya was still in there somewhere, even if he was well buried beneath two hundred pounds of evil bastard!