“What sort of crimes are they into, do you know? Prostitution? Drugs, I presume?”
Officer Green takes off his police cap and scratches his head. “I’m sure they’re into everything, but other than an arson charge last year, they’ve stayed squeaky clean.” He takes the paper he wrote the flophouse address back from me and writes the address for the bratva building and a phone number.
“That’s my number. If you find anything worth reporting, call me. Don’t put yourself in danger. I know you’re a cop and can handle yourself, but I’m sure you understand these men are extremely dangerous. Plus, I should remind you that this isn’t your jurisdiction. Any arrests will have to come through my department or the FBI. We clear?”
I nod. “Understood.”
He hands the paper back to me. “Good luck.”
“I appreciate it.” I stand and hold out my hand to clasp his.
His concerned gaze holds mine. I know what he’s thinking. What the bratva would do with an attractive woman like me if things went sideways. “Be very careful.”
“I’m not afraid,” I tell him.
I’ll use my beauty to my advantage, if necessary. The way the bratva treats women, they will see me as nothing more than an object, anyway.
I toss my hair out of my eyes. “They should be afraid.”
Maykl
I stand watch behind my desk as strangers off the street wander into our building for Kateryna’s open house. Her studio, Kremlin Clay, has a once-a-month open house where she and a handful of other potters sell their wares.
I head up security for our building, so I have men stationed all over the first floor to make sure nothing goes wrong.
My pakhan, Ravil, has Leo, a seventeen-year-old Russian-American who lives in the building, serving as a doorman while I keep a close watch on everyone from behind the desk.
“Welcome to the Open House.” Leo speaks flawless English, having moved here as a child. He’s not bratva–at least, not yet. He lives in the building with his single mother. Ravil gives him work–at a very generous wage–to help them out. He’s not just pakhan to the bratva. He considers himself a sort of tribal leader to everyone in the building.
“The studio is just past the elevators on your left.” Leo invites in a young couple.
I’m in a suit, my tattoos mostly covered, other than those that crawl up my neck. I try to keep the customary menace and suspicion from showing on my face, while still monitoring their every move.
It’s my job to assess danger at this entry point. I’m the gatekeeper. The guy who keeps out all threats to our occupants, especially to our pakhan.
Security cameras are on, recording everything. The stairwell doors lock from the outside. No one can take an elevator without a keycard. I see everyone who goes in or out of the restrooms.
Nikolai, Oleg, and Adrian are inside the studio, armed and extremely dangerous.
Still, this level of intrusion into what is normally an impenetrable fortress has me on edge.
Nikolai and Chelle saunter out to the lobby of the building holding glasses of champagne. I notice Nikolai’s drink appears untouched. He may appear casual, but he’s on duty like I am.
Chelle sets a small plate of hors d’oeuvres on the counter for me. “Nikolai said no alcohol for you, but I brought you some snacks.”
I clear my throat trying not to look too grateful because Nikolai, who is normally laid-back, gets irrationally jealous of his fiancée. “Thank you.”
“How many have come through?” Nikolai asks, knowing I will have an exact tally in my head.
“Forty-nine in, twenty-two out,” I report.
Chelle looks disappointed. She’s a publicist with the top publicity firm in the city, and she arranged a social media blitz to advertise tonight’s open house. “Well, there’s still another hour.”
Personally, I think there are plenty in attendance. More than I like having to keep track of.
“There’s hardly anything left in there to buy,” Nikolai consoles, his hand possessively at Chelle’s back.
Though they’ve been together a few months, I’m not used to this domesticated version of Nikolai. Nor of any of my brothers who are now paired with a woman.
Ravil’s break with the bratva code of forbidding marriage and relationships seems more dangerous than anything else he’s done.
Seeing my brothers paired up, seeing them in love, leaves me cold. I’ve already seen how irrational the women make them. How the females cloud their judgment and affect their decision-making.
Most of all, it creates some kind of scratchy void deep inside me. A prompting to wonder what it would be like for me to claim a woman. To have someone soft and beautiful warming my bed.
Not that I don’t bring a woman home on occasion. I get my basic sexual needs met. But finding a partner–that’s something different.
The mere idea of it creates unease in me. A noisy clamoring of danger.