Sasha: A Dark Mafia Romance (Belles & Mobsters)

For the past six months that little fleeting moment played in my mind. Over and over again.

It was not how I imagined my reunion with Branka. I didn’t even know she was in New York City. Not the best timing considering the whole shitty thing that happened with Wynter. And I couldn’t leave a battered woman and go after Branka.

Although my black heart totally demanded it. Those soft full lips and flush on her porcelain skin. The girl fascinated me. Her strength. Her determination. Fucking everything.

But it was her voice I missed the most. That soft, warm voice that soaked through my skin. It sent blood rushing through my veins and straight to my groin. The moment our gazes caught, time lagged in slow motion. Anger flashed in her gray eyes, like two thunderbolts ready to strike.

That got me even harder for her. The fact that I still hadn’t killed her father or possibly even my brother for making that stupid promise was a miracle. I must be going for fucking sainthood.

Jesus Christ.

So I stood and watched her graceful back as she walked away from me, each step taking her further and further away.

Goddamn it!

Every fucking muscle in my body demanded I go after her. Like an instinct and I had to fight it. I had been waiting a long time. Seven years to be exact. Ever since the kiss in that bar. Seven years of biding my time and waiting for her to come into her own. Waiting for her father’s death.

I always hoped it’d be me putting a bullet into his measly little brain.

But as I watched Alessio’s dark expression, I relished in the fact that the day had finally come.

I waited patiently for him to have enough. Even intercepted a few of the old man shipments myself over the past four years. I liked fucking with the sadist. Besides, it passed the time when I was fucking bored and stalking Branka.

“I want him gone as soon as possible,” Alessio demanded. It was early November. Maybe the guy didn’t want to spend another holiday with the old man, not that I could blame him.

Alessio must be a saint because if it was me, I’d have had the old man killed decades ago. But the day had finally come. The tipping point was his old man attempting to sell Branka. For a fucking shipment. Like she was a goddamn object.

Fucker.

Alessio, Vasili, Alexei, and I sat around the table in my big brother’s office.

New Orleans in November was hit or miss. With hurricane season behind us, the temperatures were still warm and there were no tourists. The holiday decorations had already started to appear throughout downtown.

The city skyline stretched through the window of Vasili’s office. Even from here, you could see the city buzzing with life. It was what made this city unique.

“Can you do it?” Alessio asked.

“Yes.” Of course I could do it. If I wanted to shoot down a president, I could do it.

“Good. I’ll pay anything.” I believed him. Alessio would kill himself if it meant protecting his sister. He and Vasili weren’t that much different in that aspect. “Half now and half when the job is complete.”

“I want your sister.” The words slipped out. Vasili was all for strategizing. I had no time for bullshit.

Judging by Vasili’s and Alessio’s expressions, I caught them both by surprise. Alexei’s face was expressionless. He was really good at hiding whatever was on his mind.

“That’s not possible.” Alessio’s words came through clenched teeth. A vein in his temple throbbed and he looked like he fought the urge to kill me. Lookey, lookey, Vasili and Alessio had something in common.

“Why not?” I asked, pulling a wrapper out of my pocket.

“Because Branka has chosen her own man,” he gritted. The hell she has, I thought to myself. Branka and I would need to have a talk.

Tatiana walked into the room at that moment, unsteady on her feet. She wore a short, black dress and black glasses that probably hid red rimmed eyes. She’d been drinking a lot. And crying even more.

Ever since Adrian, Tatiana’s other half, died in a car explosion, she had been in shambles. Unfortunately, leads on the culprit were slim to none. Adrian worked on something off the books and his death left us without any leads. Tatiana wanted to see someone pay. Vasili, Alexei, and I tried to find leads. Any fucking leads, but we kept coming up empty handed.

“Brothers,” she slurred, confirming my suspicion she was drunk. Her head turned to Alessio. “And not a brother.”

I stood up and walked over to my sister. “Hey, trouble. How about I have someone take you home so you can rest?”

She laughed. The bitter kind of laugh. I couldn’t blame her. Everywhere she looked, there were happy faces. Our friends started their families. They found their happiness. And she lost hers. She couldn’t even get comfort in raising her children because for some reason Adrian and Tatiana wanted to wait before starting their family.

And now, the chance was taken from them.

“I can’t sleep there,” she rasped, her words barely a whisper.

“Go to my place,” Vasili offered. Except that was worse for Tatiana than going to her own place where she used to be happy with Adrian. She had a front row seat to what her life could have been if Adrian had lived.

She shook her head. No surprise there.

“Go to my penthouse,” I instructed her. I was barely ever home, and when I was in New Orleans, more often than not, I spent time in Vasili’s compound.

“Will I run into one of your freak women there?” she grumbled.

I rolled my eyes. My family thought of me like some sort of man whore. “No. The place is empty.”

She muttered something unintelligible, then turned on her heel and left the room.

“This is getting out of hand,” Vasili grumbled. “She can’t spend her days drunk as a sailor.”

“She’ll come around,” I told him. “Let her grieve in her own way.”

“By letting her kill herself with vodka?” he sneered. “That is certainly sound advice. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re not as smart as me,” I told him, sitting down into my seat and stretching my legs in front of me.

“Sasha, it’s been a year since the accident,” Vasili grumbled. “It’s time for Tatiana to move on. She can’t mourn Adrian for the rest of her life. She has her whole life ahead of her.”

“Agreed. But the more you push her, the more she’ll fight you. She’ll move on, just let her do it her own way.” He knew I was right. It was written all over his expression. “Just think of Isabella. How would you feel if it was Isabella in that accident?” My brother’s growl was my answer. You’d think he was a fucking wolf, not a human. “Well, Tatiana loved Adrian just as much.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“I guess I hoped her love was a bit less intense,” he bit out, then a string of curses left his mouth. “This fucking obsession running through Nikolaev’s veins will end up being our downfall.”

Vasili might have a point. Obsession was our mother’s downfall. Our father’s obsession had him chasing his mistress for years, ignoring his children.

Love was passion. Obsession. Something, once we Nikolaevs found, we couldn’t live without. It was our blessing and our curse.

“I’ve kept my eye on Tatiana,” I assured my brother. “She’s taking small steps in the right direction.”

“Now, back to business. What does it mean exactly that Branka chose her own man?”

“None of your business,” Alessio hissed.

“Well, that’s my payment,” I told him coolly, while bitterness bit into my chest. The world had no idea how goddamn crazy I could be. Let them try and take her away from me.

“No.” Alessio was lucky to be Branka’s brother. It was the only reason I’d keep him alive. “Besides, she’s too young for you.”

Fuck age. It was just a number. Besides, he was the one to talk.

“Her friend is too young for you too,” I snickered. “Did that stop you?”

“I told you before, Sasha. My sister is not on the table. So either name another price or I’ll go find another sniper.”

“Good luck finding one that’s as good as me,” I retorted dryly.

One way or another, his sister would be mine.

Three days later, I sat in the shadows of Montréal, waiting for the old Russo.

Alessio refused to share any details about Branka and whatever man she chose. Stubborn motherfucker. I wouldn’t budge on the payment. I didn’t need his money. Branka was the only form of payment accepted. Vasili attempted to talk both of us down, but I tuned it all out. I’d consider my payment only in the form of a very specific woman.

But I’d kill his father. Not for him. For Branka. Because the fucker thought he could trade my woman as if she were cattle.

Supposedly, he found someone else. Fucker! No matter though, I didn’t trust anyone else. There was no one better than me. I’d handle the old fucker and ensure he got a bullet between his eyes.

So I found myself back in Montréal. At the old Russo’s manor.

I remembered all the stories Mia shared of the shit that happened here. It made me want to bomb the whole fucking place to ashes. But that wouldn’t be a quiet in and out job.

But it’d feel so fucking good. The only reason Branka’s father didn’t get a bullet in his head four years ago was because of my brother and Tatiana. If the repercussions were only on me, I would have gambled and killed him.

I set my equipment up on top of the red brick building. It was almost déjà vu. Except this time, there’d be nothing saving the old fucker from me. Once the set up was finished, I sat and waited for the perfect hit.

The view of Lake Ontario stretched for miles. The old man really got himself some prime real estate here, yet all I saw when I looked at this shithole were images of Mia painted in my head.

The way her father tortured her. The image of her own mother attempting to kill her children and herself in a fire. Maybe it was the reason Mia and I got along so well. We had more in common than most people.

I looked through the scope, watched and waited. That was all I could do for now.

Wait. Watch. And wait some more.

Hours passed. The light faded. Not that it was late in the day. November days were short. Especially as far north as Montréal. It was freeze-your-balls-country if you asked me. Yes, I was Russian by heritage, but I preferred the New Orleans climate to this. So did Alexei. He hated the cold even more than me.

The lights came on and lit up the compound. The manor looked almost dream-like, except I knew what nightmares Mia endured under that roof. Her little sister too.

A car appeared down the long, curvy driveway. My lips curved into a smile and a feeling of disappointment washed over me. This would be too easy.

It was then that I saw it. The other sniper. On top of the Russo manor. I shifted the scope and saw him. Royce motherfucking Ashford.

He saw me at the same time. And flipped me the goddamn finger. Fucking prick.

“Oh no, you won’t,” I hissed.

A limo, with bulletproof windows, drifted down the driveway until it came to a stop in front of two white columns. The driver climbed out and came around to open the door to the back of the limo.

Ignoring Royce, I returned my scope back to the target.

Blood rushed through my veins. The adrenaline fed it but my hands didn’t tremble. I was used to this feeling and I thrived on it. The only feeling that ever came close to it was sex. But not just any kind of sex.

I focused and watched Branka’s father step out of the car. He slowly made his way up the grand staircase.

One second. Two seconds. Bang.

A clean shot. Straight through his black heart.

Royce’s shot came a second later. The old Russo started to crumble on the steps, only a couple of steps from his entrance. I pulled a trigger again. This one hit him straight in the forehead, between his eyes.

“Bullseye,” I muttered, satisfied with my aim. “We don’t want you rising from the dead, fucker.”

Grinning, I flipped Royce the bird. “Can’t compete with greatness,” I said to the wind, hoping it traveled Royce’s way.

There’d be no resurrecting him.

My phone beeped. Unknown number. *This is my job. Did you notice it took you two shots to my one to kill the fucker?*

My text back had rows of middle finger emojis. Then I shoved the phone into my pocket.

“For Mia and my woman,” I murmured as I started to disassemble my rifle. I stored it away, and made my way off the building.

The old Russo’s time had run out. Darkness was his new best friend. He’d be six feet under. Where he belonged. I wanted to dance over his grave.

There’d be nobody and nothing stopping me now.

Branka Russo would be mine.