Chapter 1
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THE SPECTER SERIES
1. Hunting for Honey
2. Feilds of Clover
3. Broken Hearts & Coup D'etats
4. Secrets of Summer
5. Lace & Leather
6. The Colt & The Cobra
THE BRAVO BOYS
1. Killerwolf
2. Tigerlilly
SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE
1. Red Reaper
SPECTER SHORT STORIES
Halloween Special - ANGELMAKER The Southside Slayer
Christmas Special - Dasher & The Dancer
Valentine's Day Special - HELLFIRE Old Flames Burn Brightest
1. Alfa
2. Bravo
18. Romeo
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⚠️WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT BDSM THEMES AND SOME VIOLENCE.
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Anatoly (Tolya) Ivanov
Wallowing in misery and seven vodka shots deep into the midwinter evening, I tap two tattooed fingers against the red felt of the blackjack table, requesting a hit before the grey haired dealer, Maxim, tosses down another crisp card, bringing my total to seventeen..
Not bad.. But not good enough..
I am well aware that it would be utter madness to take a chance on another hit, then again, my father always taught me to live with intention, to be fearless in the face of danger and act with determination.. He would expect nothing less than for me to live up to the infallible example he'd always set as a man.. He was a straight shooter, a real no bullshit kind of guy and that is how I knew that there was nothing more important to him than family.. Because he never left a question in my mind that his children were loved..
Fuck, I miss him..
I miss both of my parents so bad it hurts..
Konstantin Ivanov was one of the most feared, revered and influential figures in the higher ranks of the Darkport Bratva.. Everybody who is anybody in the underworld knows his name and to this day it carries a certain kind of weight.. Nobody fucked with my old man.. A reputation I intend to uphold..
But now, just six months after the untimely accident that would claim my family's happiness, his legacy rests solely on my shoulders and his casino, the place he built from the ground up through blood, sweat and torture, belongs to me and I haven't got a fucking clue what I am doing..
My darling younger sister Mishka had no interest in returning to Darkport after the accident and I don't blame her, she always was far more like our mother and had never much cared for city life, after college she moved home to Roan be closer to the family, meanwhile I enjoyed all the perks Havenport campus had to offer, the gluttony and the girls..
Instead of coming with me, Mishka remained in Roan Range County, living in the cosy mountain house that my soft natured mother, Lucky, had made into a Lobi home..
But unlike my sister, I can't stand it there without them.. I can still smell my mother's springtime perfume in the curtains and see the ghost of her spirit around every corner.. I can still picture my father, sat by the window watching the snowfall and reading Tolstoy aloud to the woman he loved.. Those memories of my parents are too painful to relieve each day..
So I came to the city to claim my birthright and legacy, taking up the post of Sovietnik to the pakhan of Darkport, a man who had served as a sort of pseudo-uncle my entire life, Stori Petrovic..
My aunt Kirby and her husband had pleaded with me not to join The Brotherhood ranks, but neither of them ever seemed to understand the inevitability.. I belong to The Bratva and in an inexplicable way, I always had..
"Drugaya karta, Comrade!" I nod at the elder gentleman behind the table who eyes me with dubious doubt, clearly concerned for my mental state..
He believes I am as mad as my father..
Maybe he is right..
I know what people are thinking;
What is a guy who owns a casino doing gambling away his entire inheritance when he knows that the house always wins? And they'd be right to say so.
It is in a man's best interest to know when to walk away, a lesson I have failed to learn in my twenty-six years, but in this instance, I am the house and there is nothing left to lose..
Money means so little to me, and it sure as shit can't buy me happiness..
"Hit me, Maksim.." I bark with a temper that demands respect and the old man bows his head to dutifully shuffle the cards..
Before Maksim can put me out of my misery with a bust, I am momentarily distracted by the aromatic scent of violets and vanilla when the soft melody of an angel's voice sings beside me.. The lilt of a harmonic Irish-American accent so sweet and comforting beckons me, one that almost breaks my heart and heals it all at once.. "S'cuse me, Mistah', is this seat taken?"
I turn towards the heavenly sound to see a beautiful creature, a slender and statuesque deity created of strawberries and cream, all glowing in her pastel ginger glory.. Not only is she striking as a wildfire, with alabaster fair skin and rosy undertones, soft freckles and pale pink lips, but it's her gaze irresistibly captivating.. Hypnotic even.. The beauty before me possesses wide, emerald eyes as lush and green as the forest, misty and deep..
She is a vision.. A light in the dark.. An angel..
My skin prickles with heat as my heartbeat stutters with desire..
What a woman!
"Pleaze.." Swallowing the lump in my throat I bow my head in courteous invitation, pushing out the chair for her to sit beside me.. "Join me, Mizz.."
The dazzling girl with silky ginger-blonde hair and fair freckles smiles at me, smoothing her hands down the front of her floral printed corset and powder blue jeans before she slides with grace into the seat beside me, folding one knee over the other with a flash of her expensive looking strappy black stilettos.. Surveying the table she toys intentionally with her small stack of chips.. "I gotta confess, I've never actually played Blackjack before.." She admits with a cloy smile, the apples of her cheeks flushing a peachy hue as she glances over at me, tucking a curl of crimson back behind her dainty, diamond studded ear..
"It iz not difficult.." I assure her with a nod to my own cards.. "Twenty one iz the objective.. Any less you might lose, any more you have already lozt.."
She giggles again, twirling a fiery curl around the tip of her delicate finger.. "So, what ye' sayin' is 'I'm goin' to lose no matter what'?"
"Da.. Theze are the odds.." I grin back at her as she shakes her head, her emerald eyes twinkling in amusement causing my pulse to pound in the back of my skull and my palms to sweat..
What a fucking babe..
Maksim deals the final card and I can barely tear my eyes away from the honey beside me to check the numbers.. "Twenty one, you win, Sir.."
Un-fucking-believeable..
Maybe my luck has turned around tonight..
"I see you don't lose though.. I think I'm beginning to understand this game.." She plucks one chip from her stack and places it on the table with caution, watching with curiosity as our cards are dealt..
Fifteen is laid out before me, while she is given the far more flexible hand of ten..
"So what'd I do now?" She leans across to whisper with pink cheeks and a sugary scent that clouds my better judgement..
I find myself wondering what is beneath her painted on jeans and tight top.. Wondering if she tastes as delicious as she smells..
She fucking must.. Any girl this beautiful would have to be delicious..
"You hit.." I demonstrate, tapping the table with two inked fingers to be dealt another card..
Landing another four.. Then I wave a hand to indicate a stay..
Uncertain but eager, the ginger-princess follows suit, copying my motion by tapping the table with her naturally manicured nails to be dealt an Ace..
Twenty One.. Beginner's luck..
"The lady wins!" Maksim declares with almost too much joy, pushing her small stack of winnings towards her..
"Oh, Thank ye'! I've never won anythin' before.." She beams a victorious smile of pure sunlight as she gathers up her chips as I look her up and down in disbelief.. Obviously she'd won the genetic lottery, and she'd have to be blind or dumb or both not to know it..
Nah, she knows she's a baddie.. I can tell just by the way she sits, her posture proper and her tits on display.. She's a knockout and she knows it..
"I think tonight you will have much luck.." I smile and she giggles.. She's always giggling and it is almost infectious, that merry titter is enough to liven my spirits.. For the first time in months, I find myself unburdened.. Happy even..
"I sure hope so, Mr-?"
"Anatoly Ivanov.." I offer her my hand which she inspects carefully, regarding the tomcat tattoo that adorns my skin.. "Call me Tolya.."
"Nice to meet ya, Tolya, I'm Lovey.." She takes my hand in hers, her creamy skin cool to the touch and silky soft.. "Lovey O'Riley."
The name is familiar somehow, but I can't quite place it.. I had met so many people since taking over the casino, not to mention during the funeral of my late parents, it's been impossible for me to keep track.. Days pass in a blur and weeks disappear into empty bottles of vodka..
"You're Irish?" I pose the question with genuine interest, having met so few people with whom I have anything in common, but the way Lovey speaks is with that very same cadence my mother's voice used to carry and in it I can hear the echo of my youth..
"Aye!" Lovey giggles with pride, reaching up to tangle her fingers in the silver chain that hands around her neck, a small crucifix pendant adoring the shiny links.. "Well- half.. My Dah' is Irish.. My mother was American and my stepmom is Chinese- it's complicated.."
"I can appreciate complicated.." I watch her with burning interest as she twiddles her necklace absentmindedly, so relaxed and natural in her effortless beauty..
"What about you, Tolya? Are you a complicated man?"
"Not so much.." I smile back at the beautiful Irish rose, overcome by a melancholy kind of adoration for the Celtic roll of her consonants.. "Though my mother waz Irish.."
"Really?" She puzzles looking around the Soviet dice house as if seeking confirmation, or perhaps calculating the odds that I am lying to get in her pants.. "But- forgive me- ye' sound awfully Russian.."
Of course I am trying to get in her pants.. But I'm not lying.. I never lie..
"I am awfully Russian." I chuckle, enraptured by her company and comforting manner..
"Ye' say that as if it's a bad thing, Tolya.. But I do'nae think it is at all.." Lovey laughs, her flirtatious hand reaching out to settle over my forearm with a slight squeeze.. "I always wanted to travel to Russia.. The arts.. The cathedrals.. The snow.. It's like a dream.."
"Da, it iz beautiful.. But it iz nothing compared to you, Kroshka.." Sure, it's a line straight out of some cheesy movie, but it's exactly the kind of thing I'd often hear my father say to my mother, and she would always melt like butter when he waxed poetic, so I know for a fact it works like a charm..
"Oh." She blushes, her peachy fair glowing beneath a flattered flush.. Fluttering her long dark lashes at me she traces small circles over the back of my hand, following the outlines of my tattoos.. "Kroshka? What does that mean?"
I run a hand through my ebony hair, suddenly aware of my dishevelled appearance and wishing I'd worn something a little less casual than jeans and a jacket.. "Iz like a tiny little biscuit crumb.. Thiz iz what we call things that are most adorable.."
"A crumb?" She grins as she shakes her head, glossy auburn curls aflutter all around her.. "Only a Russiky could make something so strange sound so romantic.."
"Da.. It iz a gift.. One of many I possess.." I smirk, confident in my tact and tense at the thought of stripping her naked and nibbling on her nipples..
Ah, I bet they're blush pink, just like her pouty, kissable lips..
Her rare green eyes ignite with playful curiosity, flicking down to glance at the buckle of my belt before she lifts her gaze to scrutinize me under a playful scorn.. "If I did'nae know any better, Tolya, I'd think ye' were hitting on me.."
"I most definitely am." I lift a hand to summon a passing waiter, signalling that he bring me two doubles.. "Stay and have a drink with me, Lovey.."
"Aye, I'd like that.." A slow and sharky smile draws her pretty features tight, though the softness seems to seep out of her in a matter of seconds and she leans closer to lower her voice in warning.. "But first- I'm gonna need the seven hundred thousand dollars you owe to The Green Dragon, or I'll have to take you out back and put you down.."
