Dangerous Addiction: A Dark Bratva Romance, page 1
DANGEROUS ADDICTION
PIPER STONE
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Afterword
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Copyright © 2022 by Stormy Night Publications and Piper Stone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Stone, Piper
Dangerous Addiction
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images by Shutterstock/FXQuadro and Shutterstock/marchello
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
CHAPTER 1
“When Anger and Revenge get married, their daughter is called Cruelty.”
—Russian Proverb
Walker
Darkness.
Flashing lights.
I leaned my head against the cold glass surface, staring out the window of the train car as lights flashed all around me. The brakes screeched, the car jerking as it slowed dramatically. From somewhere in the back of the train, I heard a distinct moan. Some drunk guy who’d been passed out the entire time was finally coming to.
Exhaling, I dragged the coat around me, loathing the chill in the air, the brisk wind that cascaded across Lake Michigan bringing bone-chilling temperatures. Lately, I’d been forced to remind myself this was the city I’d always planned on moving to, the dream job the only one acceptable to me. However, getting home at two in the morning, enduring the assholes lurking in the shadows as well as the wretched cold temperatures made me long for summer days.
As the train pulled into the station, I moved to a standing position, grasping the metal pole as the car vibrated under my feet. Maybe I should feel lucky my poor little car hadn’t been moved in almost three weeks. Between the subway system and being able to walk to my favorite destinations, I’d certainly saved money on gas. Thank God for that.
And for my glorious condo, the high-rise building capturing a perfect view of the gorgeous lake. Even though there was little furniture inside, it was mine. How it’d happened, I still wasn’t certain.
After stepping off, I slipped my hands into my pockets, keeping my head down as I walked up the stairs and onto the street, scanning the area before heading toward the secure building. Even in the upscale section of town, working late nights kept my anxiety high. There were far too many violent crimes in Chicago, enough I’d stopped paying attention to the news. I dealt with enough of blood and gore on an everyday basis.
I walked quickly, crossing the street and noticing just how deserted the road seemed tonight. Maybe because it was a Monday. At least I had the next day off, although I doubted that I’d have any energy to leave the condo. Maybe I’d just stay in my PJs, watching movies.
Clang. Clang.
The noise echoed, but loud enough it gave me pause. I stopped short, taking a few seconds to look in all directions. Maybe a cat had turned over a trashcan. After taking another two steps, I heard a scraping sound, as if something metal was being dragged across brick. A trickle of fear skittered through me, and I walked faster.
Then I heard footsteps.
Oh, hell, no. I tried to keep from running, but as the pounding sound of heavy feet matched my own, I flew down the sidewalk, looking over my shoulder only once. While I couldn’t see who was following me, that meant shit.
Go. Go. Go.
I pumped my legs harder, grateful I had on running shoes. As I neared the building, I heard a distinct, deep and evil laugh.
And I could swear the bastard whispered, “Next time.”
I wasted no time smashing my hand against the security panel, suddenly grateful for the extra security. When I was safely inside, the massive glass doors shutting behind me, I stood just inches away, glaring out into the night. No one was going to scare me away. I’d worked too damn hard to get where I was.
Now I was no longer frightened, just pissed off. While I had a can of mace, I’d been thinking about getting a concealed weapon’s license. I knew how to use a gun and wouldn’t hesitate if it meant saving my life or that of someone else. Bad guys did exist in every walk of life. There were very few people who cared about their fellow man, and even fewer heroes.
Maybe I’d become too jaded since moving here.
I rubbed my temple and hurried toward the elevator. I could use a glass of wine after the horrible day. Everything was so quiet inside what I called the mausoleum, the building barely forty percent occupied. While gorgeous, the massive foyer exquisite with hundreds of thousands of dollars of marble, a beautiful fountain off to one side, it was cold.
Zero personality.
Still, I couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I was one lucky girl.
The elevator seemed to take forever but when I stepped onto my floor, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. I had plenty of food, wine, ice cream, and popcorn. What else could a girl need?
After opening the door, I struggled as usual to find the light switch, but even before my hand managed to touch the plate, a sickeningly sweet and pungent smell wafted into my nostrils. I’d know the odor anywhere.
Blood.
Against my better judgment, I flipped on the light, not paying any attention as I pushed the door closed and walked further inside. My feet heavy, a knot formed in my stomach as I took several steps more.
I’d been a trauma nurse for almost three years, working the emergency rooms in two hospitals, including the one I’d recently been hired. The horrors I’d seen had created nightmares, but I’d found a way to push them aside, joyful when victims of catastrophic car wrecks or violent crimes were saved, allowed to enjoy the rest of their lives.
But this was something I would never, ever be able to forget.
Oh, my God. He’s dead. Dead. Someone killed him.
Blood. So much blood.
It was everywhere.
All over the walls.
I was woozy, unfocused.
Terror clawed through me as I tried to steady myself, barely able to keep standing.
What if the perpetrator was still inside? What if they were hiding?
The man was dead. Decapitated.
I moved closer, crouching down before I reminded myself there was no need to check for vitals. He was dead. Dead!
My God. I knew him. I… bile rushed into my throat, my stomach lurching. I’d just seen him, the good-natured guy wishing me a fabulous day just like he had from the evening I’d moved in. Who would want to kill a maintenance man?
After jerking to my feet, I pressed my hand over my mouth, staring down at the huge crimson stain on the floor. There was so much of it.
As I stood over his headless body, his lifeless eyes staring into my own, blood already coagulating on the new tile floor, I did something completely out of character.
I threw my head back and screamed.
Maksim
Sekrety.
The word meant secrets in Russian. There was no reason I had that single word imbedded in the forefront of my mind, but I did. My mother used to say it when talking about the old days—the years she’d grown up in Kazan before moving to Moscow.
Then she’d fled her native country without turning back. She’d enrolled in college, finding the man of her dreams and getting married, the perfect American dream. She’d kept her accent, something I’d acquired even after spending my entire life in Chicago. I’d felt closer to her than anyone else, my father always working, never taking the time to spend with his small but loving family.
Until his cold, calculating methods of handling business had been the only thing that I’d gained from our relationship. Now I hated him, his pretenses nothing but a joke given he was a soulless man, at least with regards to his only child.
Instead of following in my father’s footsteps, I’d made an alternative decision to enter the world of the Bratva, working alongside an uncle whose name had almost never been mentioned in our house. As the Pakhan of a ruthless crime syndicate, Ivan Novikov had held Chicago in the palm of his hand for almost twenty years. His power and influence only continued to increase, yet it hadn’t been without sacrifices or bloodshed.
Violence.
It was the way of the Bratva and one I enjoyed. Some would call choosing the life of a ruthless mafia leader a foolish choice. I could have become a lawyer or an accountant, even a doctor, but I’d chosen the life of crime instead, infuriating my father to the point he’d basically disowned me. I’d fought my way into being involved with the sacred organization even though my mother had begged me to stay away. Her last words of warning I would never forget.
“Ivan will turn you into a monster. Everything he touches is destroyed. Everything he desires, he takes. You’re going to become just like him.”
Just like him.
That had been eight years ago, the ninety-six months spent learning my craft, proving myself to a brutal leader who had no problem gunning a man down in cold blood. I’d been cut from the same mold, our family ties only a small part of the reason I’d sacrificed a traditional way of living. Maybe what few stories my mother had told me about the old country, Mother Russia, had inspired me more than they should have. Whatever the case, I’d shed most of my American upbringing for the half of me that had never been allowed to fully explore my Russian heritage.
My methods of punishment were considered cruel and unusual, which often kept our enemies from seeking revenge. My cold-hearted abilities had also provided me the respect within the organization that I deserved.
However, it didn’t matter that I was Ivan’s nephew. Our close relationship just meant he held me to a higher standard. Especially given who’d sired me.
But I’d learned to enjoy the same merciless tactics, inflicting pain when necessary. Even the majority of other soldiers in his employ were terrified of me.
As if I gave a shit.
At least I’d earned Ivan’s respect.
This wasn’t about competition or forming friends. I couldn’t care less about anyone else working for the most powerful man in the Midwest. I had my own agenda to follow, a kingdom to run.
Darkness had become my way of life. Every action I’d taken over the last eight years, every thought entering my mind.
Dark.
Black.
Obsidian.
Very little calmed the savage beast lurking inside of me, which continued to horrify my mother. Nothing seemed to still the rage festering inside of me or the need to exact revenge on those who made my life complicated.
As I stepped out of my beloved Mercedes, I took a deep breath of the night air. Cold. Crisp.
Perfect.
My Capo pulled close beside, cutting the engine on the Escalade and immediately climbing out. “They’ve made progress.”
“Yes, but not nearly enough. Winter is setting in, which means additional delays.”
He snorted behind me. “I don’t mind lighting a fire under their asses if necessary.”
“We’ll see, Brick.”
I took a few steps away from my car, marveling at the sight of the project, construction almost halfway complete. Novikov money had funded the thirty-acre parcel, the incredible design coming from one of the most brilliant architects in the industry. When finished, the multi-use parcel would become one of the finest business, residential, and entertainment facilities in the city of Chicago.
Sadly, for the brainchild behind the project, he’d attempted to muscle out his deep pocket investors. Shame on him.
“Get him out of the vehicle,” I instructed my most trusted soldier, Brick, not only my Capo but a man I considered a friend.
“Gladly,” he said, a dark chuckle rumbling from his throat.
I didn’t wait for the asshole to be pulled out of Brick’s SUV. The draw of the construction site had already captured my attention. As I moved toward the newest addition, staring down at the black pit of the foundation, a smile crossed my face. As I reached into my jacket, pulling out both my weapon and the silencer, I wasn’t certain why I was bothering to eliminate the sound of the kill in the first place. Production had been shut down for the long holiday weekend, eliminating the possibility of anyone bothering me while doing business.
Still, it paid to be cautious, especially since we didn’t control the construction workers hired for the project.
Something that had troubled me from the start. While expanding our business was prudent, doing so without absolute control stuck in my craw. Recent events had been a prime example.
I heard the man’s screams through the gag as he was dragged in my direction and sighed. Some men faced their destiny with courage while others reverted to childish methods of begging for mercy. The latter irritated the hell out of me.
Even the stench of the man pissed me off. He reeked of cheap perfume, a product of his sexual proclivities, something else that eroded the concept of providing salvation for his crimes.
As I turned to face him, I gave Brick a single nod, my Capo ripping away the thick duct tape.
The man gasped, still struggling with the thick rope binding his hands. The bright moon lit up the sky, also highlighting the terror riding his face.
“Mr. Chamberlain. You’ve been a naughty boy,” I said with zero inflection. I had no emotion regarding my upcoming action whatsoever, but the irritation at disrupting my evening remained in the forefront of my mind. Gregor Chamberlain had been a major player in the world of real estate development for years. He was well educated, highly intelligent, and had a good nose for success. Sadly, he’d forgotten that loyalty was the most important attribute to have when doing business with the Novikov family.
“Mr. Calderon. Please. I’ve done nothing wrong,” he pleaded.
“Nothing wrong?” I shook my head, taking a few seconds to enjoy the stunning view. “Look around you. This is an incredible development, but there’d be nothing here but dirt if we hadn’t taken up your cause.”
“I… I know that, but…” He didn’t bother finishing his sentence because he knew there was nothing to say.
Brick continued grinning as he held the man by the back of the neck, enjoying every minute of the asshole’s weak attempts at making excuses.
“Not only did you attempt to push our organization out of the existing contract, but you ran and hid like a fucking rat, unable to own up to what you did. That’s unacceptable. I’m afraid that there’s nothing I’m willing to do to provide you with a reprieve.”
“This is my baby. Mine. You attempted to take control. I couldn’t allow that! You don’t own the place.” He dared to look away from me, ignoring my admonishment.
I took my time before answering. “Hmmm… Even worse, Gregor. That wasn’t your only mistake.”
He seemed confused, sputtering several times, even trying to take a step away.
Brick grabbed his hair at the scalp, a quick snap of his wrist yanking Gregor’s head to an awkward angle.
I’d grown weary of the game. I walked closer until I was only a few inches away, taking another deep breath of the fresh night air. “You were working with Samuel Rossi, the two of you planning on shoving us out of the project completely. Isn’t that the truth?” While I was taking a calculated stab in the dark, I could tell almost instantly that my intuition had been correct. Kudos to me.
Samuel Rossi had managed to extort a large sum of money right under Ivan’s nose. That had been seen as a significant weakness given Samuel had been the Bratva’s accountant for years, a man trusted with the family’s fortune. The man’s death for his betrayal had been vicious, sending a very distinct message to anyone thinking about betraying the Novikov family.
“I… No… I mean…” Gregor whined like a baby.
“Which is it, Gregor? Yes or no?”
He swallowed hard. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t but at this point, I no longer give a shit what you have to say. However, this project was your baby from inception, and I know just how important it is to you. Therefore, I’m going to make certain you remain a solid part of the foundation of the enterprise knowing the Novikov family will be moving forward without you.”
