Page 85 of Mafia Daddies Collection

Father was furious to discover the man in the pit wasn’t the man who’d stolen from us. We’d been used to carry out a hit for another family, it was beneath us.

In his fury, he’d thrown an expensive glass as he paced in heavy stomps with his stick in hand. It was funny to see, especially since I had been the problem, and now, I was the solution. This boy had been in my grasp, and I’d let him go, but I wouldn’t do that again in a hurry.

He’d best hope and pray I never found him. The honor of my family was something I needed to regain. I would do anything.

As soon as I was allowed to leave the following morning, I went by the boy’s apartment building. I had to find something to lead me to him.

Approaching the building, I spotted cop cars in the alley by the trash chute drop. I’d wondered if he’d made it out alive, or whether his body was inside.

In a nice white polo shirt with a sweater over my shoulders, I could’ve pulled off snobby and preppy easily. Except, I was six-something, stacked with muscle, and had a gnarly scar beneath my eye. I looked tough and I stood out in a lineup. Lucky for me, the police weren’t the type to come after my family.

I kept that in mind as I approached the loft where I’d carried the boy out over my shoulder. I made eye contact with the trash chute opening; now taped shut. The door was taped off and an officer I hadn’t met before guarded it.

“Officer,” I said with a nod.

He held a hand at me. “I can’t let you in.”

“Officer—” I looked to try and find a name on him.

“It’s officer Kaminski,” he said, nodding. “And I can’t let you in.”

“Who do you work for?” I asked, licking my tongue over my teeth.

Kaminski smiled. “Well, I’m a member of the NYC police force.”

He was new. I glared at him. “Did someone steal a fortune from your family?”

Slowly, creasing his brows together, he shook his head. “Nope, I’m—”

The door opened and the officer snapped into position, almost like a cadet.

Detective Sam Sanders. “Danya,” he said, looking me over. He sighed, sucking up his gut. “I take it this is something you had a hand in?”

“Detective.” I chuckled, reaching out to shake his hand. “You look busy. What happened?”

Hesitation hovered around the detective’s mouth, twitching slightly. It was unwise for him to get on my wrong side, not for anything I would do, he was an officer of the law after all, but for what he wouldn’t get. And by the looks of things, he enjoyed the perks of helping the family.

“Can you grab Santi? He’s outside,” the detective instructed his minion officer.

As the officer left, the detective invited me into the apartment. There was another officer I was much more familiar with, and a photographer snapping pictures.

This place looked different in the light. I hated it. Thinking of that boy’s smug face and his bratty attitude, he was the type of guy who said they liked it rough then cried because we had two different meanings to the word deepthroat.

“The apartment is under a woman’s name, Wendy Eccles, no record of her anywhere. We found men’s clothing, and well, a couple other surprises in the wardrobe.”

“Surprises?” I asked.

He led me over to the wardrobe and opened the door to reveal a small collection of dildos. Some of them didn’t look human, at least, I hadn’t seen any with such warped shape before.

“We’re trying to look at the computer, but someone put a bullet through it,” he said, raising his brows at me.

“Yes,” I snickered. “That was me. The guy here. He’s a lead on the theft.”

“The money,” he said in a whisper.

I nodded back. I knew a name for him, but I hadn’t managed to get it confirmed. “I’ll find him again.”

“Danya,” the detective said, shaking his head. “I told you what I know, and—and if we uncover anything related to the money from that hard drive, I’ll tell your family.”

It hadn’t been a completely wasted journey. I’d seen his collection of toys. Maybe we had fucked, and I forgot. If I had, he was somewhere in my camera roll. That wouldn’t have surprised me, but it was something I couldn’t let my father find out. The last thing I needed was for him to know the boy who stole his money was gay. I’d be in a shipping container to Russia headed to some icy prison. But I suppose that was better than death.

On the way out of the building, I spotted the officer bringing in some guy. He wasn’t in uniform and carried a heavy bag on his back. He was probably here for the computer. They always looked like civilians. I made eye contact with him, hoping to stare into his soul and put fear there.

Heading home to my apartment in Brooklyn Heights. A nice place, although currently under threat of being taken from me because of the money I’d lost.

Walking in through the front door, the smell of espresso hit my nose. My uncle, Arkady, was making himself at home.

“Found anything?” he asked, a snarl on his upper lip as he stared at me from over his little cup of coffee. It was always humorous to see such a big man drink from a tiny cup.

Holding back my grin, I shook my head. “They know shit,” I told him. “The boy is a computer wizard. We don’t even know if his name is real or fake. We only know his name and address because of the receipt on the transfer. It could all be fake.”

Arkady glared across the kitchen. “Your father, my brother, we don’t want you to get any ideas about trying to do this alone, so stop playing amateur detective” he said. “You saw him last night; the man ruined imported vodka.”

I scoffed. “You know he’s all drama.”

“One day, he might act on it.” He shot the coffee into the back of his throat. “So, you’re the only one who saw him. I tried to get CCTV but apparently whatever existed, it’s gone.”

“I told you,” I said, starting the espresso machine. “The boy is a computer wizard. We’ll need to find another way. But I am the only one who saw him. And I will get him.”

Arkady nodded. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but you’ve hardly proven yourself. You were a talent once.”

I was still that same talent. I might not have been at the top of my father’s good list, but there was a time when I was his guy. I’d kidnapped and killed so many people under his command. My aim was amazing, much better than my older brother. And Arkady was skilled with a knife, that’s how I got my scar.

“Uncle,” I said, attempting to hold my anger. “If you don’t get the fuck out of my apartment, I’ll show you that talent. Besides, don’t you have a mistress somewhere to give you an heir, or has all that time snorting product you were skimming made you sterile?”

Arkady stood. “You’re a little asshole.”

“And you’ll die alone,” I said. “Now, get the fuck out. And I’ll do whatever I want. Clearly, you’re the disappointment now. I’m surprised my father didn’t kill you for doing the Winch’s dirty work. My mistake. But you did that to yourself last night.”

There was the anger in him, resurging from last night. I’d had enough of him, and I couldn’t speak to my father like this, so he was a good alternate to get my own frustrations out on. “You’re lucky,” he said, gritting his teeth. “And I wasn’t skimming. It was product testing. And—” a sharp creek sounded through his gritted teeth. “The Winch’s will get what’s coming to them.”

I shrugged. “How would I know anything about that?” I asked. “You keep the books; we have to trust you.”

Arkady shook his head, his hand wrapped around the small cup. I felt his want to throw it, but he restrained.

Once he was gone, I locked and bolted the door. I wasn’t going to have any more surprise guests today.

As the espresso dribbled into the cup, I plugged my phone into the charging cable. With everything that had happened last night, I almost let it die on purpose.

The phone screen flashed. I saw the messages stream in from my family asking if I was coming back over. The answer to that was a resounding no. It was always a flip of a coin, not knowing what side of them I’d get when I went over.

An unknown message ID flashed.

There were several missed calls, the number withheld.

And then the messages. They weren’t sent from a number, but a string of random letters in different cases.

—I can help you.

—I know who you are, Danya Alexeyev.

—I’ll help you, but I need something first.

—Put the cactus from the coffee table in the window.

—I’ll be watching.

My skin crawled as I read them. They’d seen inside my apartment. I glanced at the small cactus on the coffee table.

With my espresso in hand, I sat on the sofa, looking around at the viewpoints into the apartment. There were windows everywhere. They had to be around somewhere, unless they’d bugged the place.

Fuck.

I’d been gone all night.

I threw the cup against the white wall, creating splatter art with the coffee.

Nobody was spying on me and getting away with it.

First the money, now the spying.

Someone would die for this.