Unprotected with the Mob Boss: A Dark Mafia Romance (Alekseiev Bratva) by Fox, Nicole (classic books for 12 year olds .TXT) 📗

“I have to say I’m surprised, Allison. I didn’t think you’d be the type to get in bed with someone like Alekseiev.”

“Oh well …” I shrug. “I didn’t know he was rumored to be associated with the Bratva.”

Elizabeth tilts her head. “Interesting. Your father told me that he told you about Alekseiev’s Bratva connections.”

My cheeks burn hot. I grab my wine, taking a long swig of it. Right after the district attorney offered me a dream internship, she caught me in a stupid lie about the Bratva. Even with her stone-cold poker face, I’m certain she’s second-guessing the offer. If I lied about this, I could easily lie about anything that comes into the DA office.

I’m falling apart from the inside out. I’ve got a sickness, and I breathed it in when Lev and I kissed.

19

Lev

A week later

When Ilya calls to tell me there’s been an issue reported at the hardware store, I’m halfway grateful for the distraction. Being alone in my office, thinking of Ally, who I haven’t seen in a week after our big fight, is driving me insane. Then there’s the probable baby now in the equation who keeps popping up in my thoughts. Me. A father. I can’t begin to get my head wrapped around that, so I mostly ignore it for the time being.

Entering the hardware store, three customers are milling around. I signal to Ilya and Petrov to tell them to leave. Daniil and another one of my lieutenants, Novikov, move up closer behind me as I walk up to the register.

I see the movement—the cashier’s hand dips down too fast to be subtle. I grab Novikov’s shirt, yanking him back against the shelves with me as I rip my Glock out of its holster.

Novikov and I back up as a shot goes off. I whip around in its wake and pull my trigger twice in quick succession. The cashier’s body jerks back as Novikov and I manage to get behind the shelf.

I check Daniil. It looks like his shoulder is bleeding, but he’s managed to get behind one of the other shelves. I check behind me. I can’t see Ilya or Petrov, but that likely means they’re both safe.

Another gunshot goes off.

I peer around the corner. The cashier is definitely dead or mortally wounded. Someone else is shooting.

Tracking stolen guns isn’t practical, but with a gun in Sarah Lyle’s face, she told me this was where the Colosimos were storing the weapons they took from us. I hope—for her sake—that she did not forewarn them that we were coming.

As Daniil tries to look around the shelf he’s hidden behind, nearly letting his whole head protrude out, and several shots go off. His head slams back. He screams, high-pitched enough that Novikov flinches.

It’s as good of a distraction as any.

I tilt to the side, seeing the movement of two men. I shoot the taller one as he turns toward me. His body stumbles back. I shoot the second man as he aims at me.

There’s another shot. A hot, stinging sensation runs down my arm. I lurch backward and check my arm, finding a line of blood. It looks like the bullet only skimmed me. As I’m examining my wound, the oddest thought occurs to me. Not only do I not want to die here—nor do I plan to—but I realize that I can’t die. Allison and the baby need me alive to protect them, whether or not she ever wants to see me again.

Several shots echo in the store, drawing my focus back to the situation at hand. It’s a storm of noise, occasionally punctuated by screams and yells. I turn to check the register. There are three more men, but they’re barely focused on us as bullets assault them from the west, destroying the cash register, the counter, and the wall behind it.

I signal to Novikov before I charge out, and he covers me. One of the men is down or hiding, but I take out the man hiding behind a stack of cardboard boxes. There’s a shot behind me as Novikov takes out the Colosimo half hidden in the stockroom.

I keep my gun raised as I peer behind the counter. Six men. It seems safe to assume they’re not all here earning minimum wage.

I spin around as I hear movement behind me. Ilya raises his hands with a nervous smile. Petrov is behind him, looking immeasurably more serious.

“You shouldn’t have wasted so many bullets,” I tell Ilya. “You turn into a maniac during a firefight.”

“Just backing you up.” He nods to Petrov and Novikov. “Do a sweep in the back.”

They both nod, jumping over the counter. As they disappear, Daniil groans down the aisle.

“Shit,” I mutter. I turn back down the aisle, finding him. Blood is gushing from his head, but he’s alert. I crouch down, grabbing his hand away from his face.

His ear was shot off.

Not a great scenario, but not the worst either.

“Get him to our guy,” I say. Ilya nods, getting his phone out. He sends a text out as I find some industrial wipes. I hand them to Daniil. It looks like he was shot in the shoulder as well. Ally would have been more sympathetic, but someone else’s idiocy isn’t my problem.

Petrov and Novikov return.

“The guns are back there,” Petrov reports. “Nobody else is here.”

“Get them to the 73 warehouse,” I tell them. They both nod once before returning to the stockroom.

“Your arm is bleeding,” Ilya says.

“It’s fine.” I run my hand over it, the sting twisting all of the way down.

“You weren’t as sharp as usual,” he says. “Sloppy work from one of the best shooters I’ve ever met. What happened?”

“There’s a time for you to speak your mind, Ilya,” I growl. “Now is not that time.”

He nods. Daniil curls into the fetal position below us, the industrial wipes turning bright red over his ear.

* * *

I wash the blood off in the shower. The wound on my arm stings, but