“Just a little to the left…no, back to the right. Okay, just—”

“Make up your damn mind!” Klaus snapped, the muscles of his arms straining from holding the stuffed armchair Lauren had bought for her new office.

It was still wrapped in a protective layer of plastic, but instead of him letting the delivery men bring it in, as they were prepared to do, he’d carried it. Seemingly unbothered by the weight of it, he didn’t complain until he had brought it into the office and she was trying to direct him where to put it.

“You keep moving. You’re throwing me off.”

“I’m about to kill you.”

Still smiling, she waved for him to move the chair again. Despite his rather hostile demeanor, after getting to know him over the last few months, Lauren found that Klaus rarely meant half of the things he said…except to Mishca. While he might not have completely thawed, their relationship was significantly better.

“Have you considered his proposal?”

Klaus was silent for so long, she wondered if he would answer. It was a question he’d been asked for a while now, mostly by Mishca, but once he had brought it up to her, she figured Klaus might be more willing to actually give her an answer.

Since Mishca had relocated many of Mikhail’s men in the Bratva, a number of open positions needed to be filled. Namely, who his underbosses were going to be. Surprisingly, the first person he considered was Klaus, though there were still details that had to be worked out with the other Pakhans as far as his involvement was concerned. It wouldn’t be as though he was starting at the bottom and working his way up the ranks; he was immediately being offered a top-tier job…and it didn’t help that he had rather publicly vowed to kill Mishca.

But Mishca didn’t care what they thought, and despite their recommendations, he had his own thoughts about what he wanted.

“I’m a mercenary. I don’t do politics, and I for damn sure don’t want that Russian breathing down my neck.”

Rolling her eyes, Lauren took a seat, running a hand through her hair as she pushed the strands back over her shoulder. “You would be a Captain, and besides, it’s not like you would let Mish boss you around.”

He shrugged, pulling one of his knives free to cut through the plastic. “Look, I’m still thinking about it. We can’t act as if the last five years never happened. There are still some people who need to answer for that.”

“You two are exhausting. Why don’t the two of you just fight it out already? Yell about how much you hate each other while you’re throwing punches. I feel like that would solve a lot of your problems.”

A surprised laugh escaped him as he dropped down onto the freshly unwrapped chair, folding his hands behind his head. “I’d kick that Russian’s ass.”

“Not a chance. Mish could totally take you out.”

“Wanna wager?”

She nodded. “What do you want? But, I’ll only agree to this if you truly think about accepting his offer and stop stalling.”

Dropping his booted feet down, he grinned at her. “I’ll do you one better. Once my current contract is up, I’ll go freelance while I give the position a shot, but only if he plays by my rules and agrees to my demands. I win, he pays me triple my current salary, and I decide what role I play. He wins—”

“He wins and you have to start calling him by his actual name, and you try to mend your relationship with him. And even if you lose, you should do that anyway. Let go of some of that anger you carry around.”

It was clearly the right thing to bet. His entire face scrunched up in horror. “That’ll never happen.”

Glancing down at her watch and noting the time, Lauren grabbed her coat and purse. “Then don’t lose.”

“Yeah, whatever. Going to see the Russian?”

The way he put emphasis on it made Lauren laugh. “Yep.”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

“I thought you had a job in the city.”

He grimaced, looking very much like Mishca as he rubbed the back of his neck. Since Jetmir, Klaus had been acting weird about whatever new assignment he’d been given. He hadn’t shared any information about the actual job, only said that he had one—one of the reasons he had given as to why he hadn’t planned to accept Mishca’s offer.

“I forgot how fucking nosy you can be.”

Out on the sidewalk, Lauren pulled on her coat. Klaus was ever the imposing sight, leading the way to his car. Lauren had only ridden in it once before, but even she knew it was impressive.

Perhaps, she should have bet on his car.

* * *

It had taken two months for things to finally settle enough so that Mishca Volkov could take a step back from the dangerous world he lived in and take a breath. Since he had gotten married, a mercenary hired by his stepmother had nearly killed him, and he’d been targeted by the Albanian Organization that had once tortured and nearly killed his brother, Klaus. Not only that, but he had been brought up on RICO charges that had been dismissed almost as quickly as they had come up. Though Special Agent Tabitha Green was no longer a problem, he knew that she wouldn’t be the only agent who wanted to use him to make their career.

Then, there was the new position he had taken as the Pakhan over the Volkov Bratva now that his father, Mikhail, had been ex communicated. It had been a calculated decision on his part, but one that needed to be done if only because he needed to make a statement to those who opposed him. It was rare that a Pakhan was forced from his seat—truthfully, it was unheard of—but with his track record and the approval of the other Pakhans from the different organizations across the Eastern Seaboard, Mishca had it done. The ink of the cross—a symbol of his new position—had barely dried on his back before he’d had another placed on his chest, its rightful spot. Some of the others liked to remind him that he was far too young for the role, but with time, he was sure they would get over that assumption. Even still, he knew every move he made was being watched carefully.

Now that he had this mark of power, Mishca was still in the process of changing the very structure of the organization he was head of. Unlike his father, he needed people he trusted to stand beside him, not just those who were eager to spill blood in the name of climbing the ranks—excluding Luka, who killed just to do it and not to receive any recognition for it. And more importantly, he only wanted people whose loyalty was to him alone. Some of Mikhail’s men had already walked away once they learned of his current predicament—that had taken care of at least a third of them—but that brought problems of its own as well, mainly because he had fewer bodies to put into his territories.

This was why, even though he was unsure of why he’d come forth, Mishca decided to meet with Roman Pavlov, Viktor’s bastard son—a description that he himself chose to go by. Mishca had never particularly had a problem with him, but he did make assumptions about his character based on his knowledge of Roman’s mother, a woman who made Anya look tame. One thing he did know, however, was that Roman would be a good ally to have, if only until he betrayed him.

Roman was a part of the Pavlov Bratva, one that he headed himself though he had less notoriety than what he probably preferred. This was why he had suggested a partnership. It would be an alliance of sorts to send a message to their perspective enemies. It would only help their businesses in the long run, so Mishca had agreed.

Now, they were moving on to the next stage.

“What are you suggesting?” Roman asked, voice even now that he knew Mishca was going along with what he wanted.

Mishca tapped his pen against the desk, meeting the eyes of the man who was family though he knew hardly anything about him. A little over half an hour ago, Roman had presented him with the business plan that he’d prepared. He could have begun the construction without Mishca’s approval, so the fact that he was coming to him at all told Mishca that Roman was planning to respect his role…at least for the moment.

Opening a gambling parlor was tricky enough since it wasn’t legal by any means, but Roman’s concept was solid and could very well be profitable for both of them.

“Green Hill won’t be easy,” Mishca responded. “The city is overrun with Colombians and Italians, but to my understanding, you already have a good working relationship with the Colombians, no?”

Roman looked very much like his father—same cold, gray eyes, square jaw, and slightly tanned skin—and now he wore the expression of a man who was not used to defeat.

“I do, but even if I hadn’t, they wouldn’t be a problem.”

“See that it’s done. I’ll pay you a visit in a few weeks.”

Nodding once, Roman stood, buttoning the front of his jacket. He reached to shake Mishca’s hand as he stood. “Give my regards to the missus.”

“Will do.”

As Roman was leaving, Mishca could hear voices out in the hallway and already could feel the headache that those two were going to bring him before they even cleared his doorway.

Sure enough—as they always were it seemed—Alex and Luka came bursting through the door, whatever argument they’d been having tapering off to meaningful glares.

“What is it?” Mishca asked, aimed more toward Luka than Alex.

Before Luka could respond to his inquiry, Alex asked, “Why was Roman here?”

Mishca knew that their parentage was still a sore subject for her and seeing Roman was probably a reminder of that.

“Business.”

He didn’t elaborate and wouldn’t even if he wanted to. She was fine, Mishca knew, though he did wonder how the trials of what she had been through still fared on her.

Alex met his eyes for a lengthy moment, shrugged, and then walked over to the couch on the other side of his office. “Anyway, I came here to tell you what a shitty husband you are.”

Smirking, Luka went and took the seat Roman had just vacated, propping his muddy boots up on the table. Some days—on days very much like this one—Mishca still didn’t know why he kept Luka around.

Not too long ago, when Luka had made a call that Mishca hadn’t readily agreed with, he had reacted badly and as a result, Luka broke his finger. It had initially pissed him off to the point that Mishca had seriously considered demoting the enforcer, but he’d eventually gotten over it. And despite Luka’s rather eclectic personality—and a past Mishca knew nothing about—he trusted Luka implicitly.

Contemplating pushing Luka’s feet off the table, Mishca knew there was no point since Luka would just put them back. Since he wasn’t going to like wherever this conversation was heading, Mishca tossed his pen down, counting backward from ten in his head.

“What are you going on about, Aleksandra?”

“I’m just saying. If I were married to you, your ass would have been divorced two weeks in.”

Luka, the idiot, cleared his throat, raising his hand in the air as though they were in school and he needed permission to speak. Exasperated, Mishca pointed to him.

“She has a point.”

That was it. That was all he said.

His hand twitching with the urge to do violence, Mishca looked over at Alex, hoping she would add something meaningful to this conversation before he ended it entirely.

“Let’s review the facts. Viktor killed her father, tried to kill her, and then Ross years later—oh and that cunt you used to stick your dick in—”

Mishca cut her off to ask, “When did you become so crude?”

She pointed to Luka, who, of course, pointed at himself.

“Perhaps I need to reassign him.”

Mishca had initially believed, partly because Lauren suggested it, that Luka and Alex would be good together because she was more willing to open up to the enforcer than she was to Mishca. But he also didn’t miss the fact that his sister had had a crush on Luka since he had begun working for him. He hadn’t read too much into this, only because Luka hadn’t seemed receptive. He still frequented the Gilded Room, but that didn’t mean he knew the enforcer’s true feelings.

“If you’re worried that he’s sticking his dick in me, no worries. He’s not.”

Even Luka glared at her this time.

Ignoring Mishca entirely, she returned that glare. “What? It’s the truth.” Back to Mishca. “Anyway, as I was saying. The chick you slept with came waltzing back, tried to have her killed by crazy-ass Albanians—no offense there, Tiger.”

Luka smirked but didn’t offer a response.

“Oh, and let’s not forget my mother hired a mercenary to take her out. I mean, if I was her, I’d think I’d married into the worst family ever.”

“And you had the nerve to get shot on her wedding day,” Luka added looking reproachful.

Mishca didn’t respond to this. He didn’t admit that he had already thought of all this before. Even worse, though they didn’t mention it, Lauren had planned a trip for them after the wedding for their honeymoon, but the chaos that had ensued had prevented them from going. She had never spoken about it, but while he was still recovering, she’d been the one who had to cancel all of their reservations. Though she would never voice how that hurt her, he knew it did.

“What do you suggest then?” Mishca asked candidly, willing to listen to Alex’s recommendation. If there was one thing he could say about her, it was that she believed in true love and grand acts of affection.

“Don’t go to Brazil,” Luka said with a laugh. “The last time you took her there, you were busy getting off with the crazy bitch who got her kidnapped. Word of advice, never go back to that fucking country. Fucking memory is a bitch. It lingers.”

“I am dangerously close to throwing you out,” Mishca warned.

Giving him a look of mock hurt, Luka said, “And I am dangerously close to not giving a single shit. Not. One.”

“What he means is,” Alex said, jumping in, “that you should do something really special for her. You know, a thanks-for-sticking-by-me-though-I-bled-all-over-your-wedding-dress kind of thing. Aren’t Susan and Ross getting married this weekend? That’s a start.”

“Wait.” Luka held his hand up, looking over at Alex. “Michigan? You want them to go to Michigan for a honeymoon? It’s boring as fuck there. What are they going to do, fish?”

Rolling her eyes, Alex said, “I didn’t mean for them to stay there for the honeymoon. I was suggesting for him to wait until they’re there for him to surprise her with the honeymoon. I’m sure you wouldn’t know anything about surprises, since the only affection you know how to give is leaving money on the bedside table for your—”

Luka lost his easy smile, his gaze turning cold. “Don’t call her that.”

It was like watching two opposing forces come together. Alex climbed to her feet. Leaning over in front of Luka, she stopped, her face only inches from his. She had always been bold, refusing to back down from anything, but Luka was just as stubborn, and the two of them together promised trouble.

“Or. What?” she asked, not flinching away from the hostility that was bleeding out of him now.

A muscle jumped in his jaw as he slowly moved to his feet, his teeth grinding together, restraining himself if only for Mishca’s sake. “You’re acting like a damn child.”

A dangerous light entered her eyes as she stabbed a finger in his chest, not caring that the enforcer was nearly twice her size. “That’s what I am, remember? Can’t have it both ways, Luka.”

Luka opened his mouth to respond, but Mishca spoke first. “Enough.”

Normally, their bantering was entertaining—as long as he wasn’t in the middle of it—but there was clearly something Mishca had missed about their relationship since he had last been in a room with them. On the surface, it just looked like there was normal animosity there, but Mishca could remember what he felt when he argued with Lauren, and seeing this…he could imagine that this was what he looked like.

“Aleksandra, I need a minute. Wait out at the bar and when Luka is done here, he will take you home.”

Surprisingly, she left without further argument, snatching her purse on the way out and making it a point to slam the door behind her. While Mishca was staring at Luka, Luka was focused on the door with a look that said he was only a second away from going after her.

“What was that?” Mishca asked folding his arms across his chest.

“What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. With Alex, that arguing, what was it?”

Luka shrugged, finally turning so that he was facing Mishca, though his face was wiped clean of any emotion. “Friendly disagreement.”

“What you do with those girls in the rooms, I couldn’t give a shit about. My sister is not one of them. I ordered you to watch her and make sure she doesn’t do anything reckless, as she’s prone to do. The dark shit that you’re into, do it on your own time. You’re not what Alex needs.”

Luka didn’t make a joke, nor did he make any playful remark to Mishca’s words. The person he saw now reminded Mishca of the one who broke his finger.

“I’m not good enough for your sister, got it. We done here, Boss?”

That wasn’t what Mishca had meant, but it didn’t look like Luka would believe him even if he explained that.

Looking up at the set of monitors mounted to the wall behind Luka, Mishca saw Lauren—and Klaus?—coming through the entrance.

“You—”

“We done?”

Deciding it was best to let him go, Mishca nodded. Before he was out the door though, Lauren and Klaus entered. Her smile was big and warm, as it always was, at least until she looked back and forth between Luka and Mishca.

“What’s happened?”

Luka, at least for her sake, tried to wipe away the tension on his face, giving her a smile as he mussed her hair, though he didn’t offer a response. Even if he was upset with Mishca, he wasn’t going to take it out on her.

“All’s good.”

He opened his arms to Klaus next who scowled and took a step back. “Touch me and—”

“How many times have you threatened to kill me already?” Luka asked, and that playful tone of his voice was back as he forced his arms around the mercenary. In a stage whisper, Luka asked, “Can you feel it, Red?”

Klaus grumbled something beneath his breath as Luka rested his head on his shoulder. “Get the fuck off me.”

“I feel a bromance coming on.”

“I thought you two didn’t like each other,” Lauren said with a frown. “You said Klaus was a bully, and he was the reason your face was so beat up a couple of weeks ago.”

Apparently, Luka had disappeared for a night and when he returned the following morning, he’d had a black eye, a bruised face, and bloody knuckles. By the time they saw Klaus again, his hands were mostly healed. He didn’t deny that he and Luka had gotten into an altercation, though neither was willing to confess as to why it happened.

“He was a bit resistant, but he’s come around. Right, Red?”

Klaus looked at the ceiling as though it might be able to provide him with an escape. “Sure. Now, get the hell off me.”

Luka finally did let him go, but he kept one arm slung around his shoulders. “Red will walk me out.”

They left with very little fuss, leaving Lauren shaking her head in their wake. Mishca went back to his desk, picking up the pen he’d thrown down earlier.

“How was your meeting with Roman?” she asked, coming around his desk, mindful of the papers there before she sat on it.

“He’ll more than likely move on it within the week.”

She was silent after his response, prompting him to look up at her. Reaching out to him, she twined her fingers with his, pulling him to his feet, spreading her legs slightly to bring him closer.

“I missed you today.”

She kissed the underside of his jaw, his own arms going around her to pull her flush against him. Mishca tilted her face up, intending to only kiss her briefly, but as his lips touched hers, he delved deeper, wanting the contact.

His hand slid down her spine, spanning over the curve of her hip and resting there.

At this moment, he enjoyed being lost in her because he finally had her exactly where he wanted her without interference… At least until his phone rang.

Sighing, he pulled away, just far enough so that he could get his phone from his pocket to see who was calling.

He looked at Lauren.

“Need to take that?”

“I’ll only be a minute.”

Kissing his cheek, she hopped down from his desk, smoothing the front of her dress. “Take your time.”

* * *

Since it was still early, and Mishca wouldn’t be needed back at the club until later that night, Lauren ordered takeout from one of their favorite restaurants while she waited for Mishca out at the bar. Luka and Alex were already gone from what she could see, leaving only the bartenders and a number of the bottle girls preparing for the night.

Not only them, but also a few of Mishca’s new security tried to look unassuming as they stood near the majority of the entrances.

It was turning out to be a rather quiet night, at least until there was a commotion near the entrance. Lauren spun around, trying to see what it was all about but couldn’t see through the crowd forming.

Sliding off the barstool she’d been perched on for the last ten minutes or so, Lauren headed in that direction, a figure immediately appearing in her periphery. She knew, without having to look, that it was probably Alik.

He was new and older than Lauren—probably around Mishca’s age—and worked for Roman. Only when Luka was preoccupied, and he happened to be in the area, did he stay around Lauren for any length of time.  Unlike most of the others that Lauren had come across, Alik didn’t have the Russian accent. In fact, he sounded like he was born and raised in the heart of Brooklyn. She couldn’t explain it, but he reminded her of Luka. Maybe it was the blond hair, or the way an air of menace seemed to surround him—or just the fact that while the others made a point to dress impeccably, he and Luka were the only two in street clothes. Except, while Luka had a long mane of curling hair, he had nothing on Alik’s. He always kept his hair out of his face, pulled back into a man bun that worked for him.

Alik seemed nice enough, though he didn’t talk much and seemed to have a rather quiet intensity about him.

“Shouldn’t you be letting them handle this?” he asked casually, still trailing her.

Lauren didn’t see Roman in the near vicinity, so she wasn’t quite sure why he was still there. “I’m sure you’ve already sent Mishca a message or something by now,” she said with a small smile.

He shrugged because they both knew she was right. “Can you at least let me handle it? Your boss wouldn’t like anything happening to you, right?”

And that was another peculiar thing about him. He never referred to Mishca by name, and when he was talking to her, he always referred to him as “her boss.”

“Of course.”

When they got closer, it was much easier for them to get to the front since the crowd parted easily for her. A man with a face reddened by anger, his hands balled in fists, tendons sticking out in his arms, looked like he was ready to shove through the bouncers.

Placing a hand on Steven’s shoulder as a silent stand down, Lauren smiled pleasantly, not deterred by the man’s anger.

“Can I help you?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

There was something particularly non-threatening about someone she knew wasn’t a part of the life she was now involved in. Was it still dangerous? Yes. But this man, whoever he was, had nothing on some of the few individuals she knew personally.

Seeming to not really care about the question he’d just asked, he went on. “Where is Christina?”

In just seconds, Lauren looked him over, assessing his mental state. His eyes were dilated, sweat beading on his brow, and considering the fact that he’d wiped his nose at least five times since she came upon him, he was more than likely high on something.

“Hold on.” Lauren made a show of looking around, not truly expecting to find someone by that name. Toward the back of the crowd, she saw a girl partially concealed by a number of people who were too busy observing the man to notice her.

The fear in her eyes was clear and even clearer was the fact that she was the girl that he was looking for.

“Considering I know everyone here by name, I can assure you there is no Christina here. If there is anything else…”

Wiping his brow with his shirtsleeve, he shook his head hard. “I saw that bitch run in here.”

He made the mistake of taking a step forward, as if he meant to move Lauren out of the way, and Alik had his hand against the man’s chest, shoving him back a few inches.

Shoving Alik back too—who barely moved an inch—the man was clearly in the mood for a fight, even if he now had to fight someone of the same strength. Alik, who was definitely reminding her of Luka now that a too happy smile was crossing his face, was ready to launch himself at the man until two things happened.

One, Lauren ordered him not to, if only because bailing him out for attacking a civilian would take a lot of time and would attract unneeded attention. Though, if they were honest, he really didn’t have to listen to her.

Second, Mishca and Roman were right behind her, both formidable in their own way, and if she were on the other end of that untapped rage, she would definitely be afraid.

Mishca’s hand went to the small of her back first, his way of telling her that he was handling it now. “Poyti—Go.”

Even though she knew what he did and how he did it, he still didn’t like for her to see it.

Turning on her heel, Lauren headed back toward the bar but stopped, whispering to Alik, “That girl in the corner, that’s who he’s looking for.”

She gestured with a tilt of her head. He scanned the crowd for who she indicated and nodded once.

Not waiting for him, she returned to her seat. She was glad for the cover that the crowd was providing, though it was clearing up now that Mishca had taken the belligerent man from the entryway. Since the shooting—a night they would never forget—he was careful to keep the clubs as clean as possible, so however he had gotten this situation taken care of, Lauren didn’t think she wanted to know.

When Alik came over with the girl, he tapped the bar with his hand before making himself scarce. She stood there stiffly, her arms folded across her chest, continuously looking over her shoulder.

“You’re safe for the moment. Christina, yes?”

Almost reluctantly, she nodded. “I’m sorry about this, I—”

“Oh, don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault. Not at all. Can I get you something?”

She shook her head vehemently, her shoulder-length purple hair swaying. “No, thanks. A friend of mine is picking me up. The big guy at the door told me I could sit here until she got here. My bags are still over there.”

Lauren couldn’t imagine that kind of struggle, as she’d had only one real boyfriend who happened to now be her husband. Without Christina having to say anything, as she rubbed her hands over her arms, the hem of her shirt rose just slightly, displaying dark bruises. She could only imagine what the rest of her looked like.

“Thank you,” she whispered, peeking up at Lauren. “For not—”

“Please don’t thank me for that. Anybody would have done it. But will you be all right at your friend’s? Can he find you there?”

Lauren kind of felt as if she was invading the girl’s privacy, but she wanted to help in any way she could.

“I don’t think so, but I don’t have a lot of options, ya know? She’s letting me crash until I can find a job and—”

“Have you ever been a server?”

“Huh?”

“Server, like have you ever served drinks?”

She looked confused, but nodded. “Most of my undergrad, yes, but—”

“We have an opening.”

Her mouth dropped open and was about to snap shut again when Mishca came back up, his hand sliding beneath the fall of Lauren’s hair and his thumb sweeping over the nape of her neck. He tended to have that reaction on most women. But she didn’t count on Roman being with him.

Tearing her eyes from him and looking back at Lauren, she still shook her head. “That’s nice of you, but—”

“Mish, this is Christina. I offered her one of the bottle girl positions.”

He looked back and forth between her and the girl, then said something to Roman in Russian, who didn’t look pleased by whatever he was told. He said no, but ultimately relented, finally agreeing to whatever Mishca had asked of him.

Roman grabbed a napkin from the set on the bar top, pulling out a pen to scribble something down.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh, Christina?”

“Full name.”

Clearly, Roman only had two moods. Intense and really intense. He hadn’t even looked at the girl since he walked up.

“Christina Montana.”

He handed her the napkin. “Go to that address next week Tuesday. Tell them Roman Pavlov sent you and they’ll take care of you. Understand?”

She could do no more than nod, her eyes skirting over each of them. She was probably trying to work out who the hell they thought they were, but upon seeing Lauren’s reassuring smile she nodded once.

“You’ll be safe here for the time being.” Mishca looked at Lauren. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

As they were walking out, Christina called to them, “Thank you.”

When they were some distance away, Mishca was shaking his head with a smile on his lips. “I can never leave you alone, can I? Not even for a few minutes.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mish. I’m just accepting the role you gave me.”