Read Russian Killer's Baby Online
Authors: Bella Rose
Russian Killer's Baby
Russian Killer’s Baby
By: Bella Rose
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright 2016 Bella Rose
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Table of Contents
Russian Bad Boy's Untouched Love
Prologue
Feliks Koslov emerged from the shadowy hallway to the left of the busy restaurant’s kitchen. He glanced at the food sitting in the window. The meal he wanted was to the far left.
Straightening his black suit jacket, he watched the cooks for the span of several breaths. He’d learned long ago that every kitchen has a rhythm. The servers came and went, yelling requests or griping to each other about customers. The line cooks were often pressed on a Friday night such as this. In short, nobody paid attention.
The server who was coming to collect the food from the window and deliver it to her customers would be back any moment. Feliks stepped from the shadows and made his move. He carefully leaned closer on the pretext of checking the meals for quality. Producing a vial from his right sleeve, he emptied the contents onto the correct plate.
“Excuse me,” the server said impatiently.
Feliks offered her a pleasant smile. “Good job tonight,” he said before turning and walking away.
She actually gave him a smile before scooping the plates onto a tray and taking them to the table where Feliks’s mark waited for his food. Silly woman. Had she but noticed that he didn’t belong in the kitchen, she might have actually saved a life. It was a worthless life, but a life nonetheless.
Feliks had learned long ago that it didn’t matter if he
did
belong somewhere. It only mattered if he could appear as though he did. For now, he sank back into the shadows. The city official who had been giving the syndicate no end of trouble would soon be history. Then all of Feliks’s tasks would be complete, and there would be nothing standing between him and leadership. Really he should be commended for completing his work within such a short timeframe.
Feliks shook off that thought. He heard a cry go up in the dining room. The kitchen exploded like an anthill. The manager came back, frantically yelling unintelligible instructions to the cooks. With a saunter borne of many successful assassinations, Feliks headed toward the dining room.
The server he’d seen earlier bolted into the kitchen, stopping before the window. “What did you put in the potatoes?”
“Nothing!” a cook shouted.
Feliks carefully averted his face so the agitated staff couldn’t see him as he left the scene of the crime. Taking a roundabout path through the dining room, he edged around the other restaurant patrons. People were standing and craning their necks to better see the drama unfolding. Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, Feliks slipped his phone from his pocket and took a photo of the scene.
The recalcitrant official was rolling about on the floor, grabbing his neck and frothing at the mouth like a rabid animal. Fortunately, the poison worked quickly. He would be dead by the time the EMTs arrived on scene.
It was only half a dozen steps to the front door. Carefully keeping a low profile, Feliks exited the restaurant. All eyes were on the man choking and gasping in the center of the room. Nobody paid attention to the assassin walking away from the crime.
Once outside, Feliks took a deep breath. Sirens wailed and the honk of an ambulance shattered the night air. It was almost chilly tonight. The fall air had a distinct bite that reminded Boston’s residents that the bitter New England winter was right around the corner.
Feliks felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Starting off down the street, he pulled it out to glance at the display. The council was looking for confirmation of the hit. Feliks texted Pyotr Alkaev the photo he’d taken in the restaurant. Seconds later he got another text confirming a payment to his bank account.
An email arrived just as he stepped onto the train headed back to Southie. He didn’t have to look to know it was the dossier on his next target. There were only a few more targets between him and the leadership position within the syndicate that he had coveted for so long.
Feliks took a seat on the train. At the next stop an old man got on. The gentleman was dressed in a tailored suit and shiny shoes. His bald pate was covered in a jaunty hat.
“You always were creative,” Pyotr murmured as he took the seat beside Feliks.
“In life there will always be points for creativity,” Feliks agreed. “As well as a bonus for doing the job without suspicion.”
“Ah, but no suspicion means no point was made.” Pyotr placed both hands on the cane resting on the floor between his shiny shoes.
“Only if nobody took the time to send the man a message.” Feliks didn’t bother to check the smile of satisfaction on his face. “Since I took care to send the stubborn public works official and his even crustier compatriots a letter last week, I believe his friends will know exactly what happened to him.”
“But they won’t want to give away the truth lest it implicate them in taking bribery,” Pyotr guessed. “Excellent.” The old man sighed. “Vasily did indeed train you well.”
“Da.”
“And now the final task?”
A knot of excitement settled in Feliks’s gut. “I just got an email.”
“Have you opened it?”
“No.”
“Is there a problem?”
The edge in Pyotr’s tone made Feliks bristle. He pulled his phone from his pocket and made a point of opening the email. He skimmed the dossier, noting that the young woman had recently enrolled at Boston University. Apparently she and her father were nearly estranged. Orlov’s intel suggested she and her father were at odds over some of his illegal activities.
Then Feliks clicked on the photo of his mark. A rushing sound filled his ears, drowning out the sound of the train and even Pyotr’s voice. This was a woman. They wanted him to murder a
woman
?
“Feliks?” Pyotr said urgently. “What is it?”
Feliks glanced up to meet the gaze of his one advocate on the council. He could not back down. Not even under these unusual circumstances. Breathing deeply, Feliks searched for something to say. “Her name is Annika.”
“A woman?” Pyotr’s bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why would Orlov want you to kill a woman?”
Feliks felt a grim sense of foreboding. “Because he knows I won’t want to.”
Chapter One
Feliks stared at each man sitting around the table as if daring one of them to challenge his bid for leadership. In point of fact, Feliks
was
daring them. He was a man of action who would have much preferred to prove his worthiness in a physical contest. Instead, his gut told him he was about to enter a game of chess where people were live pieces and the prize was life and not death.
“So.” The rolls of fat on Motya Orlov’s neck jiggled when he spoke. “The goatherd’s boy wishes to lead.”
Feliks very narrowly avoided an eye roll. “My family has not herded goats for decades, Orlov. Shall we trace your ancestors back a few generations and see where they started?”
“The boy has a point,” Pyotr agreed. “You cannot keep referring to the fact that Koslov means ‘son of a goatherd.’ Feliks’s father Ioann Koslov was anything but a goat boy. The man was brutal.”
Feliks hid a smile. Pyotr delivered that bit of information as if brutality was the highest compliment a man could receive. Not a surprise, since Feliks had gained his own recognition in the organization by being the most efficient assassin in the ranks.
“I suppose,” Orlov drawled in his ponderous voice. “If Feliks were to get rid of certain annoyances for us, we could be persuaded to accept him as the head of the organization.”
“Annoyances?” Feliks forced his hands to be still. It was tempting to pick up the shot glass sitting on the table before him and roll it between his fingers. “Are you referring to the dozen or more contracts I’ve completed at your request over the last six months?”
Orlov glowered at Feliks. “Those
annoyances
were a nuisance to everybody.”
Feliks glanced around the table one more time. These six men effectively formed a council within Boston’s Russian crime syndicate. The hierarchy kept them from fighting each other. It was good for business. The recent death of the seventh “boss” had created a power vacuum. Now it was Feliks’s turn to step in. He didn’t just want to take over Vasily’s position of power. He wanted to lead the syndicate as well.
“There are still a few officials in Boston that could use a reminder that our bribes pay their mortgages,” Orlov pointed out.
“Understood.” Feliks wasn’t at all surprised about that. It was well known that Orlov had personal vendettas against half the city engineers and inspectors alike.
Orlov grunted with anticipation. “Then there is that judge who needs a good scare.”
“And?” Feliks prodded. He felt certain Orlov wasn’t done complaining about the injustice of legal prejudice against his criminal activities.
“Well,” Orlov hedged.
Pyotr groaned. “Are you on about
that
again?”
“Am I wrong?” Orlov waved his hands emphatically, his words becoming slurred as he spoke faster and faster. “He was supposed to complete this contract weeks ago!”
Feliks watched Pyotr closely. It was his restaurant where they were holding this meeting. He was considered something of a peacemaker within the organization. It had been Pyotr’s suggestion that Feliks put off the woman’s assassination until the last possible moment in hopes that Orlov would lose interest in her as a target.
From outside their closed meeting room Feliks could hear the sound of traditional music played by the live band. A woman’s voice carried on in plaintive Russian as she sang about love and loss. Such was the way of the world. God gave life, and Feliks took it away.
“The woman is related to Vadir Polzin,” Pyotr said wearily. “Orlov feels the man has been working outside the bounds of the organization.”
“He has!” Orlov shouted. “You saw this!” Orlov pointed to Feliks. “When your mentor Vasily was murdered, it was because Polzin has been operating on his own. He is putting us all in danger. He must be stopped.”
Feliks forced his expression to blandness. He knew very little of Vadir Polzin other than that the man was an immigrant who had not been in the United States for very long.
“We need to send him a message.” Orlov slapped his hands together and then rubbed them as though he’d just thought of the most marvelous plan. “If the man were to lose a child because of his own stupidity in acting outside the organization, it would go a long way to teaching him humility.”
“Has this man done you some particular wrong?” Feliks asked with a cold smile. “Because murdering a man’s child seems quite personal.”
“I would say,” Pyotr said darkly.
Orlov snorted. “He is flaunting our rules.”
“Then let him pay with his own hide,” Feliks suggested.
“Or are you just too squeamish for the job?” Orlov’s beady dark eyes glittered. “My son Yuri is no coward. He would get the job done and then take Vasily’s place as our leader.”
Feliks narrowed his gaze on Orlov. Orlov’s son Yuri was a pretentious bastard with a mean streak a mile wide who tortured his victims before finishing them off because it pleased him to do so. There was no way Feliks was allowing Orlov to give the little prick a license to kill.
Pyotr gave Orlov a look of disdain. “Feliks is no coward and you know it. Quit trying to make trouble or maybe we should talk about throwing you off the council.”
Feliks swallowed back the lump that had just appeared in his throat. “We are making war on a woman to teach her father a lesson?”
“Unless you are too squeamish to go through with it,” Orlov taunted. “Perhaps we should look for a stronger candidate for our leader.”
“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t do it,” Feliks argued. “I was just wondering how murdering a woman is going to make any impression on the man.”