Nikolai: Mine to Protect (Russian Mob Chronicles #4)
Nikolai: Mine to Protect – Chapter 7

Justine and I walk down the stairs of the private jet before the sun has even risen. The fanfare for our arrival starkly contrasts with the lackluster one I had when I visited her hometown twelve months ago. Although the busty female greeter men in my industry love gifting remains, my method of transportation has altered. Now instead of a topless ride that showcases more grunt than security, we have a fleet of SUVs armored to withstand an AK-47.

A leggy blonde in a tight mini-skirt and barely there shirt greets me with a grin when I break through the men swarming my every move. She’s the same blonde who had hoped to suck my dick during my last visit.

“Welcome back to Florida, Nikolai.”

The high-end whore chokes on her words when she spots Justine at my side. I don’t know how she missed her. With beauty no women could compete against, Justine stands out in a crowd.

A grin furls my lips when I take in the blonde’s shocked expression. A dozen heavily armed men, a fleet of armored vehicles, and the early hour didn’t faze her in the slightest, but witnessing me gripping anything but the hair of the woman sucking my cock is shocking for her.

You’d think my last dismissal would have clued her in that I’m now a one-woman man, but if her clenched jaw and narrowed eyes are anything to go by, tempting assets are the only thing she has going for her.

“So the rumors are true? You now travel with your whores instead of fucking them and dumping them as you usually do?” She locks her narrowed eyes with Justine before sneering, “Don’t get comfy, Sugar. He’ll palm you off to his understudies within a week.” She drags her eyes down Justine’s frozen frame. “If you’re lucky.”

My hand naturally rises to backhand the sneer from her face, but something stops me. I want to pretend it is because I’m an improved man who no longer sees women in two categories: whores and housemaids, but that isn’t the case. Years of bad guidance can’t be undone in twelve months. Justine is responsible for extinguishing my retaliation, not a new moral compass.

“Did you hear what happened to the last woman who disrespected me?” My blood thickens from the sheer confidence in Justine’s tone. My queen is ruling her empire, her stance strong and hardened by jealousy.

The blonde shakes her head, the fire in her eyes doused by Justine’s fury.

With a smirk, Justine says, “Exactly. No one knows what happened to her. Not even Nikolai.” She whispers her last three words, highlighting their threat.

The blonde scoffs, unsure if Justine is being honest but before she can voice her uncertainly, Justine warns, “Unless you want to take her place in my story, I suggest you climb aboard your broomstick and leave.”

Her tone is calm and unwavering. The same can’t be said for the blonde’s thighs. Her eyes widen as they dance between Justine’s to gauge the authenticity of her threat.

She reaches her decision quickly. Her dash through the men hovering close to watch the spectacle unfold causes her to bump shoulders with Justine. This isn’t the first time my men have watched women go to war over me, but it is the first time I haven’t sat back and enjoyed the show with them.

With Justine’s attention rapt on the blonde, she fails to notice the dip of my chin to a member of my crew. Justine might be willing to let the blonde’s disrespect slide, but I’m not as inclined to issue her a pardon. Her punishment will ensure the Popov entity isn’t the only association aware of the repercussions of disrespecting my ahren.

I wait for Justine and Roman to join me in the middle car in a fleet of three before locking my eyes with Justine. My cock braces against the zipper of my jeans, the leadership in her eyes too invigorating not to respond to.

“Soon, Nikolai. Very soon,” Justine says in Russian, hardening my dick even more.

With a pleased smirk, she shifts her focus to the scenery whizzing by the window. I take in an equally pleasing sight. My eyes don’t focus on the hues of orange and yellow dancing across sandy meadows, though. I peruse something much brighter and more dazzling than the sun’s slow rise. I have my sights on my queen—the woman gifting me a direct descendant to the empire we’re ruling side by side. A son as strong as his father and as smart as his mother. My urge to protect Justine has always been obsessive, but now it will be downright manic.

Our trip from a private airstrip in Hopeton to Justine’s parents’ house is short. Before Maddox’s arrest, the Walshes had a large, sprawling family home in an oceanic town not far from here. But with legal expenses beyond their means and a willingness to give up everything to see one of their own freed, their family home was sold, and they downgraded to a modest four-bedroom property four miles from the airport.

The only benefit of their downsize was an increase in property. My men have used its vast span to create a safe yet amicable barricade around their home, hopefully keeping both their neighbors and law enforcement officers off our radar.

“Wait for my men, Ahren,” I demand when Justine’s hand curls around the door handle the instant our car comes to a stop at the front of a set of dark stairs.

Her nose screws up, but she nods all the same. The dozen armed guards we’re traveling with aren’t here for me. I can take care of myself. They are here for Justine. Their orders are simple: use any means necessary to keep her safe. Shoot to kill, then take names for later retaliation. Alexei’s son, Tristan, lost his life when he sided with the wrong team during Justine’s kidnapping. Any fool stupid enough to go against me again will suffer the same fate.

Once my men have cleared the area, I give Justine permission to leave our SUV. Her feet landing on a rickety porch coincides with an entranceway light being switched on. With details of our arrival on the downlow, her family knew of her return today, but they had no clue it would occur before dawn.

“I haven’t seen you up this early since you attempted to sneak Brax back into your eighteenth birthday party.”

My eyes rocket to Justine’s as quickly as hers dart to mine. She gives me a please be patient look before greeting the man standing behind the cracked open screen door with a hug. If I hadn’t recognized the murky blue eyes glaring at me from beneath lowered lashes, I would have had my knife pressed to his jugular before he got within an inch of Justine. Fortunately for him, he is her older brother, the gatekeeper when it comes to anything involving Justine or her family. He’s Landon Walsh: dedicated pilot, all-round sportsman, and fucking thorn in my backside the past twelve months.

When Justine presses her lips to Landon’s ear, the knife in my pocket grows heavy. Brother or not, Justine is mine and only mine. You either learn that fast, or I’ll beat it into you.

“Unless you want Brax to lose the ability to breathe, I suggest you remain quiet about him—”

“Or if you don’t want to be tortured, speak up. I’m traveling light, meaning I’m without my instruments of choice, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get inventive,” I interrupt, my tone not as playful as I was aiming for.

I know Justine has a past. I fuckin’ hate it, but I entered our relationship with more than my share of baggage, so I can’t expect her to have none. As long as Brax is a thing of the past, I have no issues with him. Mostly.

“Nikolai,” Roman grumbles only loud enough for me to hear when he spots my second silent demand for the night. “Let it go.”

His glare says more than his words ever will. He voiced numerous concerns about my quest to rid the world of the insolent men who bid on Justine, so he won’t remain quiet when my focus shifts to a man whose only crime is associating with Justine long before I entered the equation.

When Diak seeks further instructions, I reluctantly shake my head. Brax should consider himself lucky I’m traveling with Roman instead of Trey. If Trey were my moral compass this week, Brax would already be chewing on his intestines.

“He’s joking.” Justine’s pleading eyes stray to mine. “Aren’t you, Nikolai?”

“Of course.” My voice reveals I’m full of shit, but it weakens the deep groove between Justine’s brows. “Nikolai. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Yep, that sounded as awkward as you’d expect. I’m not a meet and greet with a handshake type of guy. If you don’t already know who I am, it won’t take you long to discover I’m not made out of rainbows and sunshine. Landon discovered that fact firsthand nearly a year ago.

The sour expression on Landon’s face reveals he’s still harboring issues about our last tussle over his sister, but he’s not eager to bring it up. I won our battle back then, and he knows I’ll win the second, third, or however many fucking times it takes him to get the hint that I’m not going anywhere. A thousand men couldn’t keep me from Justine, so what chance does one man have?

Continuing with our ploy of deception, Landon thrusts his hand toward mine. “Landon.” When I accept his gesture, he adds on, “I’d say the pleasure is all mine, but we both know that would be a lie.”

A smirk tugs at my lips when he squeezes my hand. His firm hold displays what I’ve always known: he doesn’t care who you are or how dangerous you appear, his family comes before anyone.

Good. Justine is carrying my family, and the more people she and our baby have on their side, the better. Landon isn’t on my team, but he isn’t my enemy either.

“Is everyone here?” Justine steps into the foyer. Although the house she grew up in was sold to fund Maddox’s legal expenses, their temporary abode still has a homey feel to it. The Walsh kids may not have been raised here, but someone’s kids were.

“Yeah.” Landon opens the door wide enough for me and the six men behind me to enter. “Dad cancelled his next three flights; Mom is between jobs, and Sebastian flew in yesterday afternoon. Celebrations ran late. I’m only just falling.”

I try to hide my smirk at Landon’s grimace, but it curls my lips too quickly for me to shut down. His whitening gills show he is in desperate need of some hair of the dog.

“Mom set up your room for you and. . .” Landon nudges his head at me instead of saying my name. “Her study has a cot for Roman.” Roman smirks like a smug fuck, pleased he was addressed by name. “And the den looks like a bunker for the remainder of your entourage.” This comment is more for me than Justine—as is his sneer.

“And the men I sent here this morning, where are they?”

Recalling that Landon isn’t a member of my crew—yet—I keep my tone friendly. He’s adamant no amount of money will ever have him siding with a man like me, but I’m a stubborn fuck who refuses to back down. Everyone has a price; I just haven’t worked out what Landon’s is yet.

Landon scrubs the stubble on his chin, barely concealing its frantic tick, before jerking his chin to the left. “Half of them are in the den; the other half are on watch outside.”

When I shift my eyes to Justine, she hears my words before my mouth delivers them. “My room is upstairs, third on the right. I’ll meet you there once you’ve updated your men.”

She presses her lips to mine. The sugary syrup her pancakes were slathered in flavors our kiss.

I’ve barely sampled half her mouth when she withdraws from our embrace. I’m not happy I’m being denied a taste I’d kill for, but since we’re surrounded by my crew, I let it slide. My men are horny fucks who would feel not an ounce of shame using my exchange with Justine to relieve tension while they’re without their whores.

Justine rolls her eyes when I demand for Roman to shadow her to her room before calling it a night. She doesn’t give me any lip, though. She’s aware anywhere she goes Roman goes.

Justine is barely out of earshot when Landon grumbles, “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes,” I answer without pause. “If your sister’s scars aren’t proof enough, the events you witnessed during my last visit should clue you in.”

Without men on hand for the negotiation I forged with Dimitri to have Justine’s debt forwarded to me, and needing to keep my relationship with Justine out of the limelight, I sought help from someone I knew would protect her as honorably as me.

One of her brothers was an obvious choice.

Sex trafficking isn’t for the weak at heart, but Landon took it in stride. He didn’t flinch when he saw the amount of money I was leaving on the table from allowing Dimitri to run a west coast prostitution operation without paying distribution rights to the Popov entity. I’m not talking a small seven-figure amount. It was well into the high eights.

The only time his gills got a little green was when he saw a name scratched on the bottom of an old transfer form from years earlier. Katie O’Neill. Her name was most likely an alias, but Landon’s whitening cheeks and dilated pupils had me taking note of her sale documents for future exploration.

My search didn’t produce many results. Most of the documents after Katie’s sale were heavily blacked out. She either got snagged by the FBI, or her buyer didn’t want anyone tracking her down. With how pedantic men in my industry are at keeping their virginal whores hidden from their wives, I’d say it was the latter.

Not waiting for Landon to show me the way, I head in the direction he nudged earlier. “Is Dimitri aware of my arrival?”

I can’t see Landon, but I can picture him shaking his head when a whoosh sounds through my ears. “But I’m certain he’s aware of Maddox’s impending release. His crew’s presence in Hopeton has doubled the past month.”

My teeth grit. I was hoping the agreement we reached last year would have kept Dimitri out of this, but clearly it was just garnish on his already overflowing plate. I’m not shocked. Greed is a major part of my industry, but that doesn’t mean I’ll take Dimitri’s disrespect sitting down.

My steps into the den stop when an accented voice mocks, “For a man who flies all over the world, your geographical knowledge is shit.”

When a pair of icy blue eyes stray to mine, my hand slips into the back pocket of my jeans. The blade of my knife is cool compared to the fury raging through my body from spotting Dimitri sitting across from Gavril, my number four-ranked soldier.

A hopeful smirk lifts my lips when Dimitri’s goon sizes me up. It’s the same fool who learned the hard way what happens when you disrespect my Ahren. I can only hope the large diamond-shaped scar on his hand doesn’t have him cowering away. It’s been weeks since I’ve killed, and my urge is at its greatest. One wrong word, one wrong move, or even so much as a wrong swallow will have my knife getting friendly with his neck.

My hope for a bloody evening is dashed when Dimitri demands for him to wait outside. When the tatted up hothead fails to immediately jump to Dimitri’s demand, Gavril helps him see sense. He’s tossed to the curb in under ten seconds, his removal coming with the loss of three teeth.

After taking in a blood-stained tooth discarded halfway down the hall, Dimitri returns his eyes to me. “He’s lucky I don’t pay him for his looks.”

“Then what are you paying him for? It can’t be his smarts.”

Smirking, Dimitri grumbles something about honoring family values while shadowing me into the den. Landon wasn’t joking when he said it’s been set up like a fortress. It reminds me of the bunkers my crew slept in while waiting for Clarks to be built, just missing the whores my men trade more regularly than drugs.

I take a seat in an empty chair before gesturing for Dimitri to sit in the one opposite me. It is an amicable gesture, but it doesn’t simmer my annoyance in the slightest. Hoping a hit of nicotine will keep my hands away from my knife, I tap a cigarette out of a half-empty packet, place it between my lips, then light it.

Smoke bellows between us when I mutter, “You shouldn’t be here without an invitation.”

I say my comment only loud enough for Dimitri to hear. If my men discover he’s here without the right protocol being followed, he won’t leave breathing. And although I’ll always class the Petrettis as my enemy, the one sitting across from me deserves a little leeway. He helped me save Justine. If I could set aside a lifetime of hatred, I’d award him more than a half-assed mercy bid. Unfortunately, morals were the first thing I discarded when I lost faith in mankind.

That’s why you can be assured if Dimitri is here for any other reason than to give Justine a full pardon, he’ll discover how the rules of our industry changed the instant Vladimir fell victim to my knife. Nothing is below me when it comes to protecting my queen—not even century-long traditions.

Dimitri adjusts his position so his back faces my men before replying, “I could say the same for you, Nikolai. You don’t belong here any more than I do.”

I admire the grit in his voice. He’s seated in a room full of men who’d give anything to kill him, yet his confidence hasn’t wavered in the slightest. He’s either a stupid man, or he believes he has nothing to worry about. Both expose his recklessness. The fact he is here, in the home of the woman carrying my child, means he’s on my turf. Being here without an invitation is as disrespectful as me arriving at his compound without notice a year ago.

My disrespect can be easily excused. I’ll never be accused of being a rule follower. Dimitri, on the other hand, he follows protocol to the wire—even when it could cost him his life.

Dimitri’s dark eyes stop focusing on the ember of my half-consumed cigarette when I disclose, “Justine is with child. My child.” The pride in my voice can’t be missed during my last two words.

I thought I said my statement only loud enough for Dimitri to hear, but Landon’s near-choke on his spit proves I didn’t. Although Justine requested we keep news of her pregnancy a secret until after Maddox’s release, it is too critical to ignore. Whether a wife or a whore, any woman carrying an heir to a legion is given a full pardon.

I am knowledgeable about this because it’s how my life was spared when Vladimir caught wind of my mother’s floundering ways. If I weren’t conceived by Col’s seed, my blood would have been shed on the concrete floors of the Popov compound long before my sixteenth birthday. Vladimir despised me so much, I wouldn’t have been shocked to discover he requested to carry out my termination himself.

The rules we live by are as misguided as the man who founded them, but this is one I plan to follow to the T. Even though our baby won’t protect Justine’s heart, he’ll keep her physically safe. That in itself is worth a thousand lives.

I watch Landon’s brisk exit from the den while stubbing out my cigarette on the sole of my boot.

Once he is out of my view, I lock my eyes with Dimitri. “Why are you here?”

My question is short and to the point. If Landon is heading where I think he’s heading, I have mere minutes before my battle shifts to one even more detrimental than the one I’m striving to avoid.

My brows furrow when Dimitri answers, “I’m here to issue a warning.”

“A warning for what?” He could be referring to the last time I entered his realm unannounced, but my gut is steering me in another direction.

Dimitri scoots to the edge of his chair, ensuring his words are only for my ears. “The men Landon mentioned in Hopeton are not my crew. They’re a sanction hoping to get a foothold in my area without my approval.”

I’m about to rib him about keeping tighter reins on his entity, but his next lot of words frees the wind from my sails. “They’re Russian.”

“Russian?” My accent is more pronounced from my anger rising. He didn’t directly say he suspects I’m encroaching on his turf, but his snarl sure as fuck did. “Why the fuck would I be interested in a two-bit operation with a main focus on sex trafficking?” Although I’m asking a question, I continue speaking, denying him the opportunity to rebut. “Despite what your daddy told you, there’s no money in the prostitution conglomerate.”

Dimitri’s sixty-thousand-dollar watch reveals my comment is off the mark, but my ego won’t let me shelf my reply.

Dimitri’s usually docile face lines with wolfish satisfaction as his lips tug upward. “Rumors are that you’re getting soft. That your focus has shifted away from the game.”

“Soft?” Anger chops up my growl. “The only thing about to get soft is your cock when I cut it off and feed it to you.” I nudge my head to his right ankle. “That piece you think I’m unaware of wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for me.” I turn to face him head on, letting my fury be seen on my face. “The guns your crew carry when shipping whores between states are marked with my brand. Even the coke your men sniffs off their breasts between shipments was purchased from me.”

My stare goes black. I’ve reached the end of my tether. “Disrespect me one more time with claims I’m not running my organization to your specifications, and we’ll soon discover who’s soft.” My eyes stray in the direction his goon just went. “This is your final chance to leave before you discover how hard it is to wipe your ass with your non-dominant hand.”

My knife feels heavy in my pocket. It’s begging to be released, to be used as it was intended. My urge to kill is intense, but I’ve got more urgent matters to deal with than a rival mistaking determination as weakness. Dimitri’s rile exposed more than his ability to piss me off. He said the men setting up shop in Hopeton are Russian.

Considering all Bratva crews this side of Russia are under the umbrella of the Popov entity, Dimitri’s assumption they’re a part of my operative is true. It’s the fact I am unaware of their bid for Hopeton that’s frustrating the hell out of me. I may not rule my entity with the iron fist Vladimir used, but I run a tight ship. A slip like this is not acceptable.

Dimitri stands to his feet before fiddling with his jacket. The cufflinks shining on the sleeves of his dress shirt reveal his entity has jumped leaps and bounds from the ruins Col left it in, but his visit also shows he’s aware of his place.

Mafia kingpins don’t warn rivals to steer clear of their turf. They squash them, then use their punishment as a warning to anyone stupid enough to follow their footsteps. In this industry, actions will always exceed words.

“I came here as a mark of respect.”

Dimitri’s eyes, identical to mine in every way, float to the stairwell Justine climbed only minutes ago. His prolonged stare advises where his admiration stems. He’s not here to make amends with me. He’s here to soothe volatile waters with Justine.

His life expectancy just halved. The chances of reaching middle-age in this industry are already slim; now Dimitri’s are even slimmer than that.

His next words reduce my violent temper. “Words that should have been spoken years ago never were, resulting in an outcome that will haunt me the rest of my life.” His shoulders stiffen as he looks up at me. “I decided to try a different route today. Don’t have me regretting my decision, Nikolai. We may have the same blood pumping through our veins, but we will never be family.” His eyes return to the stairwell. “If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have allowed you within an inch of Hopeton.”

When my warning snarl fails to gain his attention, I shift my eyes in the direction he is peering. My heart kicks out a new tune when I spot Justine standing at the foot of the stairs. Her eyes are as wide and frightened as they were the last time she stood across from the man responsible for her scars, but thankfully, this time around, her throat is void of the noose that bit her skin.

Although my intuition is telling me I have nothing to fear, I creep up on Dimitri in less than a second. My movements are so meek, not even Justine registers my approach. If she so much as blinks in fear, I’ll take down Dimitri as unrepentantly as I did Alexei.

A snake never stops shedding its skin, but at the end of the day, he’s still a snake. Dimitri is two seconds from learning how lethal my bite is.

Justine’s eyes lift to mine when Dimitri says, “Non ha nulla da temere. Forse non hai pagato il debito che voleva Col, ma hai pagato più di quanto volevo che pagassi. Per quanto mi riguarda, non mi devi niente.”

She stares at me for several long heartbeats, aware I’m seconds from requesting she close her eyes, but unsure if she wants Dimitri to suffer the same fate as Alexei. There are rules I must follow when it comes to men in similar positions as mine, but they’re null and void the instant Justine’s safety is compromised.

Besides, I don’t speak a word of Italian, so the skate of my knife across Dimitri’s jugular could be easily excused. How am I to know if his words are threatening or not? I have to rely solely on my gut, which is not something I often do. The only time I’ve let my instincts take over was during my quest to bed Justine. Although I came out of that game a winner, my life has never been more complicated.

Before I can work through half the commotion twisting my gut, Justine shakes her head, wordlessly requesting for me to stand down. If her eyes weren’t locked on mine, I’d assume her demand was for Dimitri. Unfortunately, words aren’t needed to see the white flag she’s waving my way.

Don’t misconstrue the strength of my queen. She’s not surrendering. She’s forgiving.

What the fuck?

The demand in Justine’s eyes switches to a plea when I’m reluctant to house my blade. My desire to kill has always been rampant. It’s not something I can switch off in an instant. But for this woman, my slice of heaven in a hot and temperamental place, I’m open to change.

A bead of sweat rolls down Dimitri’s nape when the snick of my blade announces its return to my knife’s handle. He shouldn’t be so quick to suck in a relieved breath. I recorded my first kill at the age of eight, which means I’ve learned many ways to take down a man without a weapon. He’s not out of the woods just yet.

After a quick swallow, Dimitri says, “Digli che non sono il suo nemico.”

“Tell him yourself.” My admiration for Justine grows when she skirts past Dimitri without the slightest wobble in her stride. She is so strong and powerful, even more so when she takes her rightful spot at my side. “He’s right here, willing to listen. You just need to speak to him in a language he understands.”

Dimitri spins around to face us. His focus isn’t on me. His attention remains fixated on Justine. It is both a smart and stupid move on his behalf. He knows she’s the only one capable of bringing me out of the darkness my life is filled with, but bringing her into a fight she doesn’t belong in displeases me greatly. Neither ploy will gain him my merits.

“Questo non è il modo in cui le cose funzionano nel nostro settore. L’unica volta che si diventa amici con il nemico è quando si prevede di portarli giù.” Dimitri locks his eyes with mine. They’re missing the pompous gleam I expected them to have. “Egli può essere il Spawn del diavolo, ma è anche mio fratello. Non gli auguro nulla di male.”

With a dip of his chin—more a bid of farewell than bowing out of our fight as a coward—Dimitri leaves Justine’s family home under the shadowed watch of three of my men. My first thought is to go after him. Instead, I circle Justine like a shark. The wish to kill is still dense in my veins, but something about Justine is off, and I can’t help but devote all my attention to her. She smells different. Whole. As if she’s no longer fractured.

“What did he say to you?”

“Who?” Heat springs to the back of Justine’s knees. She’s not ramping up for a fight. She’s turned on by my arrogance.

The good girls always want to tame the bad boy. . . except my Ahren.

My nostrils flare when I suck in her scent like an addict hitting three lines. “The person responsible for the change in your scent. You smell different.”

Justine’s quick exhale fans my cheeks. “I smell different?” Her words quiver as the tension between us turns rampant.

The last time we played this game, she smelled of another man. This scent isn’t that. It’s a feminine scent, both arousing and unique.

“Yeah. I can’t tell what it’s closest to. How you smelled when you stood across from me with the heart of a warrior, but no knowledge of its existence, or the scent that leeched from your pores the first time I fucked you without a condom.” My long, purposeful strides come to a stop in front of her. “It might be a combination of them both.”

Justine smiles a grin capable of buckling my knees. Maybe Dimitri was right. Perhaps I have let this woman soften me. I have enough adrenaline coursing through my veins to take down a thousand men, yet there’s only one person I plan to conquer tonight.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.