Joanna claimed the pair who were always at each other’s throats just needed to fuck it out.
The idea was laughable at best. Despite being forced together almost 24/7, they did nothing but squabble. I imagined if they ever did fuck, one of them was going to walk away bloody. Maksim, probably with scratches all down his back.
Hiding my smirk, I turned to the bank of security monitors while loosening my tie.
I heard a deep grunt then a shift of leather before Yury lumbered to my side. “Everything is in order for deal tomorrow night?”
“Da, Papa.” I straightened up to face him.
He switched to the mother tongue, which came easier to him. “New players. It will be interesting to see if they keep their word on the entire payment.”
Leaning onto the edge of the console, I felt the heavy weight of Yury’s hooded stare as he sized me up.
Before building his own Bratva dynasty, the man had used his smarts and savviness—not to mention his brute force—in the Gulag. He’d not only survived his harsh imprisonment, he’d been an infamous gang leader.
He’d been training me—and testing me—for years, because one day I’d take over the Zolotov kingdom.
“Don’t worry, Yury.” I turned a dark smile on him. “If the deal turns sour, the Italians won’t make it out alive to talk about it.”
“Good.” He laid a large paw on my shoulder, the most affection the man ever showed.
At that moment, Boris sprung up to all fours. With one loud bark, he launched himself at the door where he howled madly.
In the next instant, I drew my Sig Sauer and moved to block Yury. Maksim shoved Sasha behind her chair to stand in front of her with his gun at the ready to plug bullets into any interloper.
I quickly scanned the monitor with the camera trained outside the door and relaxed my stance. “It’s just Kirill and Joanna.”
Yury gave a snort before shifting around me, and the honeymooners walked in. The married couple looked fresh from their vacation at a private tropical resort. And I briefly wondered if Jo had finally talked Kirill into giving her the samurai sword he’d taken from the Yakuza stronghold.
The woman already carried a switchblade and a Glock of her own.
Kirill took one glance around, noted Maksim and I holstering our firearms, and chuckled.
Joanna’s eyebrows peaked up. “Who exactly were you expecting? The boogeyman?”
“Don’t know, but I did see Lucky downstairs earlier,” I mentioned, the smallest bit of humor tinging my voice.
The new wife came over and gave me a quick hug then she rolled her eyes. “Ha, ha. Very funny.”
Kirill quickly claimed his bride back, possessively pulling her to his side.
She peered up at him. “Just because we’re back in Boston doesn’t mean you’re gonna start hovering over me like a helicopter husband, does it?”
“That’s exactly what it means. Or I tie you up to my bed again.”
While her cheeks flamed bright, Boris yipped at both of them, desperate to be reunited with those he was most loyal to.
“Heel,” Kirill ordered.
The dog obeyed but whined until Kirill scratched his ears while Jo leaned down to let him nuzzle her face.
Sasha sashayed over. “Ahem. Don’t I rate a greeting too? I mean, I did help you pick out the clothes for your honeymoon.”
Popping back to her feet, Joanna hugged the woman. “Kirill appreciated the bikinis.”
Kirill cleared his throat loudly, and I barely glanced at him as I went back to the monitors.
I only acknowledged him by saying, “It’s about time you got back to work.”
“Nice to see you too.” He strolled to my side, and Maksim joined us while Sasha and Jo talked about all those female intricacies that I had no interest in.
I wouldn’t say I’d missed my brother, but since basically rearing him and Maksim from a young age, it had always been the three of us against the world with some very bad odds to overcome.
“I guess you don’t want your present then, Arkady, if you’re gonna be rude,” Jo mentioned.
“I didn’t say that.” I turned to face the woman.
“I’m all for presents. And more champagne for everyone.” Sasha’s eyes twinkled.
While she called down to the bar to have more champagne, and vodka, brought up, I watched with interest as Jo—generally a fearless woman—gingerly made her way over to Yury.
“It’s good to be back, Papa.” She extended her hand to him, and he gripped it in his mighty inked paw before drawing her into a hug.
Surprise flitted across her features when she glanced back at Kirill, and my brother nodded.
Finally, she’d been fully accepted. An outcome no one would’ve expected considering Kirill had kidnapped her initially because of her family’s trespasses against the Bratva.
After the drinks were delivered, she clapped her hands. “Okay. Present time! I declare it Christmas in September.”
Kirill handed two large bags to her, saying, “Good thing we flew private. No customs regulations.”
“Did you bring back contraband?” My interest was thoroughly piqued.
“Would you complain if we did?”
“Absolutely not.”
The four of us men chuckled while Jo enlisted Sasha’s help in handing out the souvenirs, which could turn out to be anything from grenades to grenadine.
I hoped for the former.
“Yury.” Jo approached him as he lounged in his usual seat. “I hope you like these.”
She passed him a large, bright yellow box of Partagas cigars.
He opened the lid, pulled out a stogie, and lifted the expensive cigar to his nose. “Da, Joanna. Very good.”
“Maksim, you’re next.” With a pleased smile, she handed a box to him.
“Why does he get a present before me?” Sasha pouted but her eyes were alight.
“Because I’m not sure you wanna open what I bought you in front of your bodyguard.” Jo looked downright mischievous.
“Oh, that’ll make it even better.” Sasha winked.
Making quick work of the box, Maksim whistled low when he pulled out a leather holster hand tooled with the Zolotov insignia.
“Spasibo.” He flashed a grin before resuming his usual grim expression.
After squeezing his arm, the little redhead collected another gift and brought the bag to me.
I stared in disbelief at the pale pink package with pastel-colored tissue paper pluming from the top before raising a brow at her. “What the fuck is this nonsense?”
“Open it,” my brother said.
Not amused at all, I tossed the offending tissue paper onto the console behind me. I peered into the bag then back up at the pair. “Blyad. You assholes.”
“Now I’ve really got to know what’s in the bag.” Sasha bounced on her heels.
They hadn’t gotten me some frivolous tchotchke as the packaging had suggested but . . .
I pulled out the handcrafted bolas, which could only be described as long leather straps with three sacks of stones attached to the ends of the cords.
A boleadoras. A weapon from South America.
As I swung the cords to whistling effect, Jo said, “You know they normally used those to capture animals, right?”
I circled the bolas, inspecting the craftsmanship before sending a thoroughly sinister smile to my sister-in-law. “I know a lot of animals I could use this on.”