Page 6 of The Bratva's Forced Bride
“Mr. Varkov.”
His eyes landed on mine. Piercing blue and stormy, like the angry rain that fell around us. He always kept the rage at bay with his non-existent patience. I was stunned to see him waiting outside with his men until I walked up to him. Some things never changed. Well, except for his style. The Roman I knew would never have a menagerie of flowers and plants at the side of his house.
He extended an arm. “Cousin.”
“Roman.” I took his hand, held it tightly, and patted him briefly on the shoulder. “Teslas, huh? I thought we were taking the conventional Mercedes?”
“I wanted you to have a quiet and comfortable drive.”
“You don’t cease to amaze me.”
“And I see you haven’t changed.” Looking over his shoulder, the slant on his lip grew even wider. “The thrill dies when our actions become predictable. You like what I’ve done with the place?”
We accompanied him inside the house, and the interior was just as grandiose. “Fancy fountains? Really now? I never would have taken you for that kind of guy. You’ve become a fucking environmentalist? You could pass for a politician.”
“Correction: I am a businessman. That’s what we do. You know, fitting in and stuff.” He went to a minibar, pulled out a bottle of exquisite Kors vodka, and handed us two glasses. “Keeping up appearances, pretending we're not who we are sometimes ... That’s what makes the paychecks roll in. Drink?”
“Won’t say no. Since you offer the good stuff early.”
“It’s always a celebration when you visit family.” Roman radiated with confidence.
Our footsteps echoed and his voice bounced off the walls. I pushed the glass back and Yuri did the same. “I have to say, not this time. What we came here for is much more important and we have no time to waste.”
Roman dropped the bottle and the glasses, a lazy smirk sliding across his face. “I was surprised when I heard you were coming to Chicago.” He stroked his beardless chin and said, “Just so you know, your lines weren't self-explanatory. What the hell does ‘I need your help. I'll see you soon’ mean?”
“It means exactly what it says, Roman.” My tone softened and I made sure he heard the seriousness in every word. “Logan’s back. He's popped up on our radar and the bastard is here, in Chicago. There’s no way I’m going to let him get away a second time, and that’s why I came as soon as I heard. That’s why I need your help, Roman.”
“Fuck me.” His brows dipped and he hissed. “Logan’s back. That slithery son of a bitch. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Knowing you, you would have gone ahead and had all the fun without me.”
I smiled. His eyes said it all. He didn’t even try to deny it. If I'd told him he had the asshole in his city, I would have flown all the way to see Mercer’s corpse waiting for me outside Roman’s front door.
With a wave of his hand, he turned, “Follow me.”
Our steps were brisk, and we reached his study. My mouth opened to curse him for bringing us into a room full of shelves, files, and books, but it closed the moment he shifted a large painting and opened another door. With his broad back to us, beeps and bops sounded as he entered the passcode.
“You don’t need to say it. But I bet you never expected to see this.”
I rolled my eyes and smirked as we walked into his private arsenal. Blue lights came on and weapons shone everywhere: in display cases, on white shelves and even hanging on the wall. Roman turned to us with a proud look on his face. He gesticulated with his arms open.
“Take your pick.”
Trust Roman to be the fucking cavalry when you need him. I brushed past him, pretending to be unimpressed. “Don’t fucking gloat. But holy shit this is impressive.”
His laughter was deep and thick, like the rumble of thunder in his throat. Yuri, with the help of more men, hauled as many weapons as I thought we would need into duffel bags. And Roman led us to his garage. Like the hidden storage room, a fleet of black, bulletproof Mercedes cars gleamed as soon as the lights came on. He gave me a look and I hid a smile.
His men were securing the bags in the cars when Yuri came up to me, staring at the screen of his phone. He had been tracking Logan’s IP address the whole trip, watching him closely to track his whereabouts.
“You still have eyes on him?”
“I do.” With a touch of his fingers, he zoomed in and narrowed his eyes. I recognized the worry on Yuri’s face when I saw it. It was the slight frown on his lips and the clenching of his jaw. Without saying a word, I knew something was wrong.
“What the fuck is it now?”
He raised his head. “Boss, he’s on the move.”
“It’s time, boys! Let’s get going!” It was Roman barking orders in Russian. The men stormed off and jumped into the cars. The engines purred and the tires squealed as the cars backed out of the garage. The rain hadn’t let up, but as my cousin used to say, that only added to the thrill.