Chapter Three - Secret Life Equals Satisfied Life
(A/N, the Russian language is incorporated in this story and eventually so will be Irish, however, sentences will most likely not be correct. Please forgive any incorrect translations.)
I was the predator; she was the prey. I sectioned her out; out of all the people in the building, I only sectioned her out. From the second floor, that’s where I saw her. I was only observing my club that I had built in the perfect place, and there she was: sitting at the bar, unnaturally out of place. Her slightly plumped figure took the courage to where that short, white dress of hers as she sipped her cup of water. What a boring drink to order at a bar, but that didn’t distract me from my mouth drying at just the sight of her. And nothing could distract me from the silver, thin cross that hung around her neck like a shield. I was willing to break that shield any way possible.
I had my personal men guarding and enjoying themselves on the first floor, where they would be able to see me. I had my brother stationed at the entrance, where he was guarding the front. Very few of my men decided to relax to the beat of the music; they stood determined and ready for anything. Having nothing to worry about, that’s when I made my move. I made my way towards the woman in white like a predator would when hunting their prey: slow and precise. I sat to her left without her suspecting anything and ordered myself a Manhattan.
While I was playing with my family ring that was passed down from Father to Father, I noticed the way how her perfect body was facing the dance floor. I observed the way her eyes admired every single person that was getting dirty on my dance floor and I noticed the way how that saddening expression befell upon her pale lips. Such an expression shouldn’t be on a delicate flower such as her; it only drew me in even more.
As she took a drink of her water, I said in the best American accent I could conjure, “Instead of staring, how about joining your friend?”
She quickly looked in my direction to stare at me with her enchanting eyes. I always look at a person in the eyes when I speak to them, but her hazel eyes took a toll on me. It was like a deer caught in the headlights: they were wide and curious. Her eyes messed with my past memory; it was as if they were the memory. In a different person on the other side of the world was my sister who held those exact same eyes. A sister I haven’t spoken to for twelve years.
I almost held my knee bending smirk when I noticed the way she observed with those eyes that could command me to do anything. She took me in, never blinking, as if I were to disappear if she did. And I did the same to her. I couldn’t keep my eyes off how she unconsciously sucked her bottom lip in, glistening it and the way her eyes dilated at the sight of me. I drew power over her and there wasn’t anyone that was going to change this outcome. After all, I always was the dominant one.
I stood as still as a statue when her gaze finally landed on my scar that laid upon my eye from seven years ago. Seven years ago, I was tortured and was brought pain. Seven years ago, my mind was rewritten and my thoughts on parents dissipated. My cheek slightly twitched at the painful memory and felt my fingers contracted into their fist that acted like a harbinger of death. But I quickly composed myself before she even noticed anything.
“I don’t dance,” she said nervously, but also in a mellow tone that rang like bells on a Christmas Eve, “Actually, being here isn’t what I’m used to.”
I smirked my infamous knee bending smirk at her obvious response. How was it not obvious that she didn’t belong here? Every single detail about her was different compared to all the women that was here. The aura she emitted was different; hell, her looks were different. Her hazel eyes showed innocence and lost, but they weren’t broken nor tainted. In my eyes, she was beauty itself. Not even the dress could distract my thoughts into dark and disturbing like they almost always were. Something about her was preventing me doing so.
I opened my mouth to respond with something simple, like “I know,” but that friend of hers that was dancing on the dance floor decided to make her appearance. She had her arms swung across her shoulders as she leaned in with her alcohol infested breath as she laughed her ass off. Now this was the type I would fuck.
“Oh my God, Elena! You have got to join me! That guy that was guarding the line found a replacement and now I think I’m going to get myself a good fuck!” her friend shouted above the music.
I looked back towards the tables and that’s where I spotted my brother, the guard the friend was talking about. He had his sights on the friend while he observed the way her a*s swayed to the music unconsciously, but when he noticed my stare, he acknowledged me with a small nod before looking back at what his type of “beauty.”
After the friend, unattached herself from the lady before me, she wobbled her way like drunkard towards my brother where he lifted her onto his shoulders and gave her ass a great slap.
The lady’s face before me flushed in embarrassment as she looked away. The action caused me to laugh, making her look up at me with a bit of confusion and curiosity.
"Takaya krasota,” I said under my breath where she wouldn’t be able to hear. (Such beauty.)
“Do you like the place?” I asked as I leaned back to observe her even more. God, everything about her I wanted, but this was different. I didn’t just want to fuck her; I wanted to hold her in my palms and she would understand that she was only mine to control.
“The place looks magnificent,” she responded, not knowing of what was going in my head, “but such a place I feel as if I don’t belong.”
“Then make yourself belong,” I stated as I purposely leaned towards her. I wanted to know how she would handle this.
“How do I do that?” she asked as she leaned forward as well.
I felt my smirk come back unwillingly when I observed her movement. This was what I wanted to happen. She was like putty: playing right into my hands.
“Well, what’s your style?” I asked in genuine curiosity.
Right as she opened her mouth to give her answer, we were interrupted when the familiar sound of my phone going off in my pocket. Digging inside, I plucked it out and looked at the caller I.D., but I wanted to throw my phone when I realized it was Tarasov who phoned me. Torchinovich Tarasov Anatolievich better have a damn good reason as to why he’s interrupting me now.
I answered the call, but I turned away from the beauty that was before me when Tarasov started babbling nonsense into the phone.
“Tarasov, calm down and speak more clearly,” I interrupted him when a frown of concern layered my face.
"Mosin vniz,” Tarasov spoke crisp and clearly this time. (Mosin is down.)
“... Kak?” (How?)
“Ruisín got him, Boss. I don’t know what to do...”
Out of all the people in my personal guard, Mosin and Tarasov were the only brothers. Mosin was Tarasov’s older brother and the two came to my father when they had nothing left. Their father abandoned them after their mother’s death and neglected to take care of them. They were thrown out of the one place they could have called home and they were left but being nothing and rats on the street. But that’s when my father came to them with open arms. He came to them and offered them a haven for them to live and work. They were trained into being touch sons of bitches, so to hear Tarasov in a shocked and broken tone means something went wrong.
“Tarasov, stay where you are. We’ll find you,” I spoke into the phone, “Don’t worry, Tarasov. You and Mosin will be fine.”
I ended the call in a distressed mess as I placed the phone back into my pocket. I quickly placed my attention towards the awaiting beauty that patiently waited for me to finish. Somewhere within me, I wished we didn’t have to part ways already. I didn’t want to abandon the rare innocence I encountered. And I wanted that innocence in the palm of my own hands.
“Sorry flower, but I have matters to attend to,” I said in a breathy tone as I took her small and delicate hand into mine, “Welcome to the Inferno.”
I brought her hand to my lips where I could intake her scent into memory. I breathed in her scent of lavender and vanilla scented candles that my mother loved having around the house. I could smell a hint of pomegranates on her and I could only wish for more.
I took the huge leap of faith and delicately, yet distinctly rubbed my tongue against her skin where I could taste her. She didn’t even notice the action one bit. She only held a light blush against her cheeks that cascaded to her neck like a scarlet veil. Her focus was on my lips and nothing else.
“I hope to see you again,” I said before departing quickly and out of her sight.
The club was a disguise for what it truly was. Behind the door that stood in the way back where the bottom of the stairs that led to the second floor was an underground unit where the life truly was. This was my new underground base that I planned ever since my last one was infiltrated by the authorities. Everything just went downhill during the ending of my father’s reign as Father. He quickly acquitted his position and appointed me as Father once my brother declined the offer. After all, the eldest is offered everything first.
The brightly lit main hallway led me to other hallways and doors, but I only followed the main straight ahead which will lead me to the garage. Once I saw the sight of the black vans, I also saw the sight of my men ready and determined with fury. Every single one of us is family. We stuck to each other loyally and as brothers. To hear that one of us was dead or near death... Nothing was going to be able to stop our rage.
No words were uttered as we each entered our vans that held a specific amount of men; no words were breathed out as the vans sped away to rescue our two brothers.
We headed immediately towards the south-side seaport that was abandoned three years ago. I had Tarasov and Mosin down there for the night to see if any unknown activity was going on since that is where most of our shipment come in with our new supplies. Now, it’s time for us to see what kind of activity has been happening.
At the breakneck speed, we were going at, it wasn’t long until we could see the seaport. The port looked abandoned, but anyone who was smart would know better than to think such foolish thoughts. We parked the vans a couple of hundred feet away from the surrounding area that made up the port before we advanced with pristine caution.
I had some of my men spread left and right, while I kept my person men with me. My other men’s job is to look out for any movement, while my men and I looked for the missing brothers.
I noticed the new crates that caused me to remember the new shipment I was supposed to get this week. They may have been untouched, but that didn’t mean the enemy wasn’t nearby, waiting. I heard shuffling behind on the larger crates that was closest to me, so I signed my men to stop moving. I immediately heard their footsteps pause in midair while I readjusted my hold on my gun. With the unclenching of my hand that was in midair and a signal of two fingers, we raised our guns and advanced towards what was behind the large crate. We all let out a breath of air at seeing the two familiar figures.
"Poimet’ Tarasov, how long have you been hiding there?” I asked him as my men acted immediately to take care of Mosin. (Fuck.)
“Just about an hour, Boss” Tarasov replied in an exhausted tone, “It took too long for the Irish to leave, but I managed to stay out of sight. That’s when I phoned you.”
Before I could say anything, I was stopped when the micro speaker in my ear interrupted me, “Boss, we caught one.”
“Bring him,” I growled, “I have some questions for the bastard.”
When we arrived back at the club, Mosin was sent to Medical Care where he could be taken care of and Tarasov was sent to have him checked. The Irish-scum was dragged to the separate basement of the club where I let my men sic on him. However, my men knew not to go too far because I still needed him conscious to answer my questions. There would be consequences towards those that take things too far.
I headed straight towards my office where I was greeted homely. The silence of the empty room was broken when I saw one of my regulars sitting on my desk with wearing nothing but lingerie. I would have been more than happy to bend her over and have my pleasure, but now was not a good time. I needed to cool down from what was happening today and I could unintentionally harm her if I’m too stressed than I thought I would be. I sadly dismissed her where she respected me and murmured next time there would be “no.”
I threw my gun and jacket onto the leather couch that was placed against the wall and slightly dusty from catching dust. I freed a few buttons from the top of my shirt and loosened the tie around my neck to let me breathe more easily. The empty room and cool atmosphere cooled me down and I was more than relaxed.
I laid against the back of my leather chair that I loved to just sit and breathe. I wasn’t sure of Mosin, but I knew Tarasov was going to be fine. Not usually do I doubt the safety of my men since not one of my personal men have died on duty. I have had lower tier members die because they were either reckless or the enemy was one step ahead of them, but not once have I had my personal men die on me. I needed my men to be able to perform at their best. I may treat my men like they’re family, but I demanded only two things from them: respect and loyalty. They represented the Russian Mafia and I will not have my mafia’s name tainted.
After ten minutes of being stuck in my disturbed thoughts, my brother knocked on the door before entering.
“Your turn, Boss.”
“About time,” I groaned as I stood and cracked every bone in my body.
After I grabbed my gun and jacket, I left the security of my loving office as Leonov and I descended into the basement that held the one person that was on my mind. I loved that office; it made me distant from all the troubles of the world. It made me feel free from all burdens and troubles that everyone came to me for. It was my escape.
While we were walking, I noticed the way Leonov’s hair was bit messy; it wasn’t in its slick-back motion he always had it in. I suspected he had his fair-share of punches in the Irish-scum as well.
Leonov was one of the lesser number of members whom I could truly rely on. He was one of the few that has never disappointed me and respected me to the highest. He was one of the few that always got his job done correctly not matter what condition he’s left in and I can only say that he has endured them all.
As we passed my men, they would acknowledge me as “Boss,” never “Father.” The correct term is “Father,” but that is not what I just am. I am not just someone whom you can rely on when things are not as it seems; I am not just someone who is the responsibility of a family. I am also the commander, the ruler. I want what I want and if I demand something, then I will be given what I demand. My people have accepted this concept of what a Father and a Boss is to be and not one problem of defiance has been uttered. They know not to give me trouble.
Once we reached the basement, I was greeted with a wall that had a glass window for anyone to see in, but not out. The door that led inside was to the left and all my men stood with bloody fists and tattered clothing by the side in a straight row.
First was Artem: another recruit my father picked up. Artem Danilovich was a tall and muscular son of a bitch. Not much was known of his background when he decided to join. He didn’t and still doesn’t talk much unless necessary. He has never once left my side and he’s one of the loyal ones I trust with my life.
Second was Yermilov: another member my father found on the street before he abandoned his seat. Yermilov Sergeyevich was the youngest of us. My father took him in at the age of seventeen when he found him. He was abandoned as a baby and lived in an orphanage his whole life. He ran away from the place when he was sixteen and live that year as a street-rat. That was, until my father came and offered him what every street-rat wants: a home.
And third was Tarasov and Mosin: brothers whom I recruited when I first started. Mosin and Tarasov Anatolievich were different cases when I found them. Their family was murdered when they were just young boys, but when they grew into the young men they are now, they hunted down the killers and that’s where I found them: coated in their enemy’s blood. It was beautiful and I knew that I had to offer them the spot right then and there.
I still had a few more somewhere else, but these before me were my most trusted men. I rarely ever doubted my men with anything and I wouldn’t ever give them anything I wouldn’t be capable of doing. And most importantly, they trusted within me to lead them. They were my men, my brothers.
“We made the bastard pretty just for you, Boss,” Tarasov said as he smirked into the glass, “But we made sure we made sure he looked just right for you.”
I looked beyond the see-through glass and the familiar smirk appeared graciously on my lips. Oh, the Irish-scum was bloody alright, but not too bloody; that was my job. Luckily, they didn’t aim for his face too much; I still needed the bastard to talk.
I walked casually through the closed door and he stopped struggling against the ropes that were tying him down like a rabid animal. His head was bent low where his hair was covering any view of his eyes, but I knew that his eyes were on me; watching me like a hawk stalking out its prey. The eyes were always on me whenever the victim is in this situation. And most of the time they were full of fear or idiotic bravery that would get them nowhere but six feet under. I had a chair of my own, which I brought from the other room, and sat it right in front of him. He had his head raised already, staring straight into my eyes.
“You’ll get nothing out of me,” he spat at me.
I didn’t say anything as I took out my handkerchief that I always had in my pocket, and wiped the spit off my face.
“That’s what they always say; always the same. Along with them later on pleading to be let go after they tell me what I needed,” I said as I stood from the chair.
I stood by the window where I couldn’t see out, but my mean could see in and rapped on it twice.
“Leonov, Artem,” I called to them, “I need the both for your assistance. Bring the water jug.”
The door slammed open and there stood my two ruthless men. Leonov and Artem were both carrying water jugs, but Leonov was holding the cloth that I needed for his secession. They knew what I was planning and by the unsubtle reaction by the Irish-scum, he did too.
I stood by the wooden table that was placed on the other side of the room as Artem untied the bastard and stood him up. To keep him from resisting too much, Leonov gave a hard punch to his stomach that kept him down. They dragged his body to the table and slammed his body on top of the wooden surface. His head was hanging off the end and we strapped him down with the VELCRO straps to keep him from struggling. I playfully laid the cloth across his face and stared at the audience before me with wild eyes.
This was where the fun begins...
“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” I spoke loudly, but the only one who was pleading was the bastard. They were only cries that landed in silent ears. “No? Well, then enjoy!”
I slowly began pouring the jug of water on his face. It first started towards the top of his head, before it reached his eyes. But because of my impatient ass, I poured the whole jug on his face until it was empty. He started coughing water out his lungs and his desperate pleas were only made from coughs.
“Artem, you seem bored. Are you bored?” I asked him, but he remained passive and unemotional.
“Wait!” the Irish-scum pleaded out, “I’ll tell you whatever you want, please!”
My smirk appeared again.
“That’s what I thought,” I murmured as I ripped the cloth off his face, “How did Ruisín find out about the port!?”
“Someone, from your men, told us,” he spouted out after Leonov dragged him off the table and on his knees, “That’s all I know. I don’t know who.”
My breath was caught in my throat at the deathly sentence. One of my men would dare betray me? Even the two before me were enraged. The two never showed emotions before me.
“Tell me more,” I demanded quietly.
“I don’t know,” he pleaded and begged with his eyes and tone of voice, “Only Ruisín knows the identity. He wouldn’t tell us encase we would betray him. Please this is all I know!
“I have a wife and a three-year old daughter; let me go! They rely on me for their survival; they have no other place to go. No money, please! I’m their only hope!”
His pleading only fell upon deaf ears. Who was I to give a fuck about his family? It was always the same: I have a family. They had a wife, husband, children, or whatever they had at home possibly waiting for them.
I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.
They knew what they got themselves into when they joined the Irish-scum. They knew that their life, their families would be on the line. They knew, yet they still chose a decision thinking it won’t affect them.
“I don’t care.”
I pulled my pistol from my holster and shot one bullet straight through the middle of his forehead. The deafening silence was immediate and I couldn’t handle it, so I broke that silence with another bullet. And another, and another. I didn’t know how many times I pulled the trigger, but Leonov grabbed my wrist before the clip could’ve been emptied.
“Boss, we need to concentrate on the matter at hand,” Leonov tried to throw me from my thoughts, “We can’t risk Ruisín knowing more.”
“For all we know, her existence might have already been revealed to him,” I said as I ripped my wrist away from his grip, “I need to have a word with her.”
The one person my father entrusted me to protect is no longer under our protection, but hers. My father made me promise to protect her existence, but I already screwed that up just because of a fucking stupid leak.
“Fuck!” I screamed to the world.
YA sozhaleyu, otets. (I’m sorry, father.)