Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) (28 page)

“Let’s take a shot to our, hopefully, new arrangement,” he chuckles.

I spend the rest of the afternoon and evening partying with the motorcycle club. Maxim and Radimir stay to themselves as soon as the women start making rounds. Their girls are built, but they aren’t anything overly special. We have much prettier whores than these hanging around here.

“These are your whores?” I ask as
MadDog
takes the chair next to mine.

“Our whores, just for the men in this club to use,” he explains.

“Come to my strip club if you find yourself in West Hollywood. Beautiful women. Also, I have a stable closer to you here that one of my men runs. Gorgeous girls. High class call girls,” I say, trying not to disrespect him in his own place—but his women are trash.

“These are throwaways, Kirill. But I’m always down for a high class girl. Haven’t had one in a while,” he shrugs.

I take my card out of my pocket and write down the name and number of the
Brigadier
who runs the stable.

“Call him, I’ll text him tonight and tell him to expect your call. You pick the hair color, body type, whatever you want, and she’s yours for the night. Free of charge, for our new association and the hopes that we’ll have a long lasting relationship together.”

“Thanks, brother,” he grunts.

I take that as my time to leave our new friends. My men are not at all interested in their party. We’ve done our duty and spent time with them. We have a few hours’ drive back to the city, so we quietly tell them goodbye and leave.

Once we are outside, I see the man they called Sniper standing against the building, looking down at his phone. I tell my men I’ll catch up with them in a moment and head in his direction.

“Kirill,” he grunts as soon as I approach him.

“This is not your regular club, why were you here today?” I ask, noticing the patch that says Bonners Ferry on his cut.

“My father is a mean bastard, a drunk, and a Russian. I wanted…” he trails off.

“To see more people of your race?” I ask.

“I suppose. Something like that. I’m only half Russian, but I was curious,” he shrugs.

“Once the dust settles, whatever you want to know, you ask.”

“I want to know about my family. My father was born in Moscow but moved here when he was seventeen. There’s a story. I know there is,” he practically demands.

“What’s your name, your real name?” I ask.

“
Lukin
, Bates Lukin,” he says, straightening from his leaning against the wall.

“That is no doubt
very
Russian,” I chuckle. “I’ll find out what I can,” I say.

“I’ll personally look for the information on Green. Threatening us is one thing, our women and children, a whole other fuckin’ ballgame,” he grunts.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“Yeah, keep your family safe.”

“Yes,” I confirm before I wave and leave him with his men.

“What did the Russian mutt want?” Ziven asks as soon as I step inside of the SUV.

“He wants to know about his heritage. He’s a Lukin. His father moved here when he was young; he’s a mean drunk, apparently. Said he would personally look into Agent Green for the information,” I shrug as Ziven takes off down the road.

“Lukin?” Sergei asks.

“Yeah,” I confirm.

“Name sounds familiar. Let me make some phone calls.”

I settle into the seat and close my eyes. I’m not drunk, or even tipsy, but I can’t help but think about everything that I have just put into motion.

Fucking with the
Cartel
is no joke, and I’ve just essentially pulled the trigger. I can only hope that no matter what happens, my Tati and Kiska remain safe.

Alex’s lover, Oliver, couldn’t get into the FBI’s system without compromising his IP address—something I did not want him to chance. He said with some more equipment and time he thought he could get in there, but I had him hold off on the mission until we talked with the
Notorious Devils
. If they already have an
in
, there is no reason to use Oliver, yet.

Once we arrive back in West Hollywood, we all go our separate ways. To my surprise, Sergei doesn’t ask to see the girls. He is preoccupied and says that he has phone calls to make. I walk into the house and smell something delicious coming from the kitchen. When I walk into the kitchen, it’s empty. In fact, the house is completely dark and quiet.

I make my way into the master bedroom to find Tatyana sitting under the covers, just looking straight ahead. It is then that I know I must be in trouble. When her eyes connect with mine, it is confirmed that I am indeed in trouble.

“Where’s Kiska?” I ask, ignoring her angry glare.

“Asleep,” she states.

“It’s only…” I lift my arm and look at my watch, then my eyes widen and I look back up to her.

“Two in the morning, Kirill,” she says.

I didn’t know it was so late. In fact, I thought it was closer to ten, maybe eleven.

“I didn’t know it was so late, Tati,” I say.

“You didn’t call and you didn’t answer when I called,” she says. I can’t help but notice the hurt radiating in her eyes.

I take my phone out of my pocket and notice that it is still powered down from my meeting with
MadDog
. I turned it off because I didn’t want any distractions. Then, I forgot to turn it back on. Seeing as my most important contacts were with me the entire time, I just
forgot
.

“I had a meeting. I forgot to turn it back on. I apologize, Tatyana,” I murmur as I power it back on.

“Who were you with?” she asks.

“
What
? I was with Ziven, Sergei, Maxim and Radimir. We had an important meeting today. That’s all I can tell you,” I explain as I begin to strip my suit off.

“I don’t believe you,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around herself.

I look over in surprise. Never, not even when she was young, did she ever question me or not believe me. I’d never given her reason to question my devotion to her.

“What’s this, then?” I ask sitting down on the bed next to her.

“Who were you fucking?” she blurts out. I rear back before I clench my jaw hard, my eyes focused on her.

“You watch yourself, Tati,” I warn.

“Why? Am I right?” she asks. It pisses me off.

“
Nyet
. You are not right,” I inform her before I straddle her thighs and take her wrists in my hand, pinning them above her head. Our noses are touching and our breathing labored. She doesn’t fight me though, not like I expect.

“Your phone was off and you didn’t come home until after two in the morning, Kirill. What am I to expect?” she asks with tears shining in her eyes.

“You never expect my cock sliding inside of another person, Tatyana,
ever
. I told you that I would be faithful and I will. Do not think so low of me. I have not and would not lie to you,” I inform her as my free hand moves down her body and strips her sheets.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Kirill. Sex slaves, the
Bratva
, my father reappearing, and the FBI. I just don’t know,” she cries.

Once her sheet is gone, I pull down her panties as well. Then I unbuckle and unzip my pants before I pull my cock out. My eyes never waiver as they stay completely focused on her, even as I spread her thighs and line my dick with her center. I press against her slit and watch as her eyes widen slightly. Tears fall down the sides of her face onto the pillow beneath her.

“Believe in me, Tati,” I tell her right before I slam my cock inside of her warm pussy.

“Kirill,” she gasps. It makes me even harder.

I press her wrists into the pillow with a little more force as I slide out, just my tip staying inside of her. Then I slam into her cunt again. Her tits press against my chest and I wish we were completely naked right now; I want to feel the hard points of her nipples against my skin.

“You need to trust me, Tatyana. If you want me to trust in
you
, then you need to trust in
me
,” I murmur as I slowly pull out of her again.

I pump just the tip of my cock into her tight pussy, tipping my head down to watch the motion.
Fuck, it’s so hot when she takes me
.

“I thought the worst things, Kirill,” she sobs.

“Never, Tati. I’m yours—
I love you
,” I whisper before I take her hard.

I fuck her until she’s crying out with pleasure instead of sadness. My woman will not be sad in my bed,
ever
. When I’ve satisfied her and myself, I stay planted inside of her sweet pussy and just feel her against me, smell her neck, and hold her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into the dark room.

“For?” I ask, lifting my head to look into her eyes.

“For thinking the worst,” she says. I nip that lower lip, trembling and puffy, before I speak.

“If the roles had been reversed, if I didn’t know where you were and you weren’t answering my calls, I would be livid. I would be thinking about whose cock I needed to cut off. I understand it, Tati. I do. But we need to trust each other. Sometimes I will be unreachable, and sometimes I’ll not be able to tell you where I am or what I’m doing. I need you to trust that I’m not doing anything that will hurt you, Kiska, or us,” I murmur, tucking a piece of wild hair behind her ear.

“It’s hard,” she breathes.

“It is, but we’ll get there,
krushka
,” I whisper before planting a gentle kiss on that still trembling, still puffy bottom lip of hers.

Together we shower and wash away the day. My mind is pre-occupied with the
Cartel
and the
Notorious Devil
s as we finish our shower.

Once we’re settled in bed, my Tati snuggles against my chest then she begins to whisper about her day, about Alex, whom she finally met and instantly loved, and about Kiska and her first day of private school, which included her first dance class.

Then, she whispers about Haleigh, and how she’s offered to privately tutor Kiska one day a week on top of her lessons to try and advance her a bit so she isn’t as far behind the other girls.

I smile into the dark room
, knowing that my girls are taken care of, that I’m able to provide this beautiful life for them and in return they give me the greatest gift, the gift of love and family. It’s worth more than all the money in my bank.

I would trade every penny to have the past ten years back, to know Kiska as a baby, but I can’t. Which means that I will choose to cherish every single day and every single moment from here on out.

My girls, my family—
my life
.

B
ORED.

A word I thought could not be in a mother’s dictionary.

Yet, here I am using it.

Because I am just that.

Bored
.

Kiska is away at school. Kirill is away at work. The house is spotless. I’ve prepped dinner for this evening. The laundry is finished, except for Kirill’s suits, which need to be dry cleaned and are apparently picked up once a week.

So in other words, I’m bored.

It has been an uneventful four weeks of living in California. We’re in a routine, and I enjoy that aspect. I work three nights a week, Kirill works seven days a week, and then several nights as well. Kiska is loving her new school and her ballet lessons.

Alex, my
Byki
, is awesome, as is his lover, Ollie. I’ve lunched with Haleigh and Emiliya a few times, but they are so busy with their small children, and they are in different places than me in the moment. Although, I almost kidnapped Emiliya and Radimir’s son, Radoslav. He is the sweetest little bundle of love I have ever held.

But now
I’m bored.

I need something to do.

“I must be the dullest assignment on earth,” I pout as I look over at Alex.

“You are, but I can’t say that I don’t enjoy it. Makes my job nice,” he says. I roll my eyes.

“I need a hobby.”

“You and Kirill need baby,” he says. My eyes widen.

“Shut your mouth,” I almost cry.

“You do. I see the way you look at baby Rad,” he arches his brow.

“Kirill and I need more time together,” I murmur.

“You need baby. He is man. He wants
syn
.”