Page 32 of Scarlet Sins (Yegorov Bratva #2)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

DEMYAN

Ilya hasn’t called in, which isn’t like him. I glance at my phone.

Fuck me, it’s off. I pick it up and realize as it won’t turn on as it’s dead. “Ivan? Alek? Got a charger?”

Embarrassed silence meets me, and finally Alek speaks. “Sorry, Boss, packed light.”

He means ammo and weapons only.

Shit.

We’ve been sitting outside one of Sergio’s clubs for hours, with other men dotted around. Outside other establishments, along with his house.

Sergio isn’t home, though. My men tailed him here in the early hours and I came here when it seemed like he was staying put. It’s late. And he hasn’t snuck out to go home or launch an attack. From every single report, he’s still in there. Somewhere. Hidden away in his private office like a coward.

The club’s been in legit operation, and non-legit. People have been coming and going. But with the dawn’s light, after hours close up, and the real closed sign goes up, marked by the roller gate halfway down and people leaving. Leaving, that is, and not going in.

But no one’s caught my attention.

No one, that is until now.

A car pulls up and every sense is on alert. Those alerts spike higher as the armored car doors open and two burly guards get out. They’re armed and they make no show of hiding it.

Then Rocco steps out. I know it’s him because I’ve seen pictures.

And of course, my fucking phone is dead. I bite back a sigh.

“Ivan, call in to Ilya for me. Tell him to send backup.”

He glances at me. “How much backup, Boss?”

I check my gun. “Enough to take him out twice over.”

“You want them to storm the gates?”

“I want them here, waiting and ready for my word,” I say.

This is it.

My best chance to take out Rocco and Sergio at the same time. I calculate the time it’ll take for backup. Maybe thirty minutes? Maybe fifteen, depending where Ilya has people or who and what he’ll send.

Problem is, they might take off. I have someone watching the back exit, but that’s no guarantee it’s the only one. Weasels like Sergio are wily. It’s why he’s lasted so long and who the fuck knows what those two are planning…

It’s not just my future on the line, but half of Chicago. Vince will be a better person to take over from Niko, now that I know he’s interested in the game, but it’s not going to happen if this alliance goes ahead.

And smaller, weaker parties will join the biggest one; it’s just what happens. I’m big, I’m powerful. My empire’s strong, but this becomes a different story. An outsider with a slew of connections coming in and aligning with Sergio is bad news for everyone.

I need to take them both out.

It’s the only way it works.

They’re together, like the fucking stars have aligned. And even if Sergio has no plans of sneaking out, there’s nothing stopping Rocco waltzing out of there on his own, which’ll then mean an orchestrated attack on both of them from different places.

So do I storm in now and take the risk on?

Every instinct says now. It’s almost seven a.m. The last of the staff left before Rocco turned up, so I only have to worry about Rocco, Sergio, and whatever men.

“Alek, call in the car around the back. Lock and load time.”

They both look at me. “Boss?”

“We’re going in.”

Six of us storm in, the door beneath the roller gate not locked. My men are under orders to take out everyone but Sergio and Rocco.

They’re going to die, but there are ways to do it. I want some more answers first.

I shoot the first big man who looks up from near the door, eyes wide in surprise as he fumbles for his gun. A shot in the chest, then the head.

My men take out four more. And when the third runs out, guns blazing I shoot him point-blank.

As my men stream through the place, leaving no prisoners, I search for Sergio and Rocco.

The room’s locked and I’m betting the fuckers are armed. I shoot out the cameras and reload. Then I kick down the fucking door, shooting low and ducking out of the way of the shower of bullets that come our way.

I let them empty their guns before I send my men in.

There’s a short gunfire exchange and a howl of pain and I round the corner in time to see Rocco rolling on the ground, holding one leg, and Sergio face down, arms twisted behind his back.

Nothing but disgust rolls through me. “Restrain them. Now.”

I don’t talk to them. I want them to wait, to stew. And the added pain for Rocco suits me just fine. I borrow a phone from Ivan and send texts to Ilya.

There’s another room, this one with a steel door and it’s locked. It’s at the back of the office. I frown, wondering why the fuck, if Sergio has a room like this, he didn’t go in there with his friend before we stormed the place and then burst out to kill us all.

Something uneasy stirs in me.

“Open this.”

I bark the words at Sergio.

My backup starts to arrive. “Keep guns on that fucking door. If it opens, shoot to kill. And keep weapons trained on all exits,” I say to Pavel who just arrived.

“Keys?” I hook a thumb at the door and look at Sergio.

Something definitely isn’t right because the fuck is smirking.

“Oh, Demyan …”

It dawns on me that while weapons were shot at the door when my men barged in, he banked on me playing by the rules of our world. Banked on me wanting answers. He could have tried to take me out.

It wouldn’t have worked, but he could have tried.

Yet he didn’t .

“You still think you can get my holdings, don’t you?” I murmur.

The smirk grows. “The deal was what’s yours will be mine.”

“Never the deal. Ever. And there are contingencies in place, Sergio, to stop you ever getting even one dollar of my money, one piece of my power. Kill me and you walk away with nothing.”

“Demyan, I don’t want to kill you. I just want what’s yours. After that… well, it depends, doesn’t it?”

“On what?”

“On if you please my daughter. And don’t shoot anyone in that room. There’s only my sweet Stefina, ready to earn her way.”

“What the fuck,” I say, “are you talking about?”

He spreads his hands and guns pointing at his cock. “You walked into my trap, Demyan.”

A cold finger of dread runs down my spine. “Trap?”

“Yes, trap.” He tries to shake my man off him, but I shake my head and he sighs. “Fine. Stefina isn’t alone. She’s in there with a celebrant, ready to marry you.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

And how the fuck did he even know I’d turn up tonight? Oh Jesus, is he keeping his daughter under lock and key until he can wheel her out?

But that doesn’t make sense.

He must see something on my face because he starts laughing, not even Pavel’s threating gun to the temple stops him.

He thinks—no, he knows he’s somehow safe—because of something I don’t know about.

It’s not his daughter. And it’s not the goodness of my heart. That contains very little and every ounce is for Erin and my children .

“I asked you a fucking question, Sergio. Why the fuck would I agree to marrying Stefina?”

“I thought you heard.” He laughs and says, “So this is just luck you storming in here, is it? No, you’ll marry her.”

“No, I fucking won’t.”

“You will, Demyan, because right now, in Aruba, there’s a gun to your future slut—sorry—wife’s head. If you don’t go through with this wedding to Stefina, your Erin will die. Better yet, if I don’t call my contact in Aruba every fifteen minutes, Erin will die.”

He checks his watch and waits.

I want to put a bullet in his head, but I’m torn.

My phone’s out of juice. I look at Pavel who motions to someone else to take over with the gun as he steps out of the room to hopefully call Ilya, see if he can get hold of my woman.

But the problem is, they were going out, so they might not hear the phone.

Or there might be a gun to their heads.

I spoke to her yesterday morning, but… Fuck. Until I get word Ilya’s made contact, I don’t know what the truth is.

I don’t fucking know if she’s safe.

There’s a chance Sergio’s lying.

But what if he’s not?

Am I willing to gamble on Erin’s life? My unborn child’s?

Then Sergio says, “I need to make that call in two minutes. What’s it going to be? Marry Stefina or sign your slut’s death warrant?”