Prologue
Alfonzo
The sound the blade of my knife made as it moved over the sharpening block was fucking music to my ears. Should I have been working on the massive amount of paperwork Rico had dropped on my desk last night? Definitely. But it could wait. I wasn’t in the mood to work. I was feeling antsy and restless, which meant I needed field work. Not to sit on my ass at a fucking desk.
But Rico didn’t have shit going on at the moment. Things were peaceful, and no one needed us. There were no guns to trade. No drugs to run. No one to unalive or torture. Absolutely fuckingnothingto do.
Rico pushed open my office door. I glanced up at him, pausing the sharpening of my knife to arch an eyebrow at him. “One day, I’m gonna have a fine piece of ass laid out on this desk and be all up in it. Bet you’ll learn how to fucking knock then,” I drawled.
Rico grunted. “Doubt it.” He dropped a manila folder onto my desk. “You look like you’re avoiding doing the work I gave you.”
I grabbed the folder and pulled it to me to see what the fuck else he’d decided to drop onto my already huge workload. “If you’re here to reprimand me, save your breath,” I warned him. “I’ll get to it when I don’t feel like I’m crawling out of my fucking skin.”
Rico huffed. “You need to see Nicholas about some meds for your ADHD,” he said, referring to the family doctor, Dr. Nicholas Allman.
I rolled my eyes. He and I both knew that wouldneverfucking happen. Went on them once and never again. I could barely fucking eat, and I lost a lot of my muscle mass because I couldn’t bulk up on my protein. Couldn’t exactly protect Rico and his adorable husband when I wasn’t feeling like myself.
I flipped open the folder, blinking in surprise at the goddamn gorgeous man staring back at me, all pale skin, blue eyes, buzzed dark hair, and a close-cropped beard. Tattoos lined his left arm, and while he was slim, he was definitely toned, muscles lining every inch of his body that I could see.
I glanced down at his name next, forcing myself to rip my eyes from the picture which effortlessly captured his beauty.
Maksim Arsenyev.
“He’s Russian,” I mused. Rico didn’t fuck with the Russians, despite the alliance the Bratva had with the Ghost Born MC, a motorcycle club that Rico was in cahoots with. The Bratva had been snooping around for a little while, but not enough to make Rico want to make a move. But the fact that I had a file now lying in front of me meant Rico was done playing games.
“Yeah, he’s Russian,” Rico confirmed. “He’s been sneaking around the property and our warehouses. Niran finally got me a positive ID. Now, your job is to take him out.”
I leaned back in my seat and twirled my knife between my fingers, the glistening blade glinting in the overhead light. “You’ll start a war,” I warned him. I, personally, didn’t fucking care. A war meant I was kept busy, and I was away from this godforsaken desk. But Rico had a boy to worry about—his husband.
“If a war happens, we will deal,” Rico told me. He pointed at the folder. “Make him disappear, Alfonzo. He’s too close for my comfort, andanyonewho evenlookslike a threat near my boy gets taken out,tú entiendes?”
I nodded once. “Got it.”
He left the room, and I slid the folder closer, admiring the man again. Pity he was a problem because he was pretty enough for me to want to keep. Maybe make him bleed a little. Sure wouldn’t have minded marking him as mine.
But he was Russian, and no matter what,noneof us laid with the fucking enemy, especially if they were an enemy threatening the family.
“Pity,” I murmured, tracing the tip of my knife down his slender throat. “I would’ve liked to keep you.”
Standing, I grabbed the file folder, then headed to Niran’s office. I knocked because the last time I didn’t and just barged in, he’d had Bento, his husband, bent over his desk and was railing him like Bento was nothing more than a two-cent whore he’d paid for.
When I got a, “Come in,” I entered and tossed the file on Niran’s desk. A smirk curved his lips as he looked down at it. “Rico finally took it to you?”
I nodded. “Tell me everything we know,” I ordered, dropping into the chair across from his desk.
Chapter One
Maksim
When I took the rise in ranking a few months ago, I’d thought it was a blessing. A sign Anatoly Balakin, the Pakhan over the Washington chapter of the Bratva, finally trusted me as more than just a soldier. But the moment he pulled me into a meeting and told me I was to take out Alfonzo Aguado, the right hand man to Rico Martinez, who was easily one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the US, I began to think that maybe Anatoly wanted me dead and just didn’t want to do it himself.
Becauseno onetargeted Alfonzo Aguado. Not a fuckingsoul. The man was dangerous, dark, and deadly. From what I knew of him,everythingwas a game to him, including life. And as I stared down at his file, on all the information Anatoly’s team had been able to gather on him—which admittedly wasn’t much—my gut twisted.
When Rurik pulled me off the streets and presented me to Anatoly, and Anatoly gave me a place to belong, I’d beengrateful. Thought I would never have to worry about surviving another cold winter on the streets. Been under the impression life would be a little bit simpler. But the moment I said my oath, I realized how wrong I was.
Sure, I had a family now. Butallof us were disposable when it came to Balakin. He’d even married his daughter off the president of the Ghost Born MC to ensure healwayshad a tie to them. For him, power came first, and family came second, including the family he had by blood. Me, a mere soldier, meant nothing to him in the grand scheme of things.
I stared down at Alfonzo’s picture. With warm, almost honey-like skin and dark eyes, the man was already deceptively gorgeous. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, as if he knew a secret I didn’t, and honestly, he probably did. A beard, neatly trimmed and cropped close to his face, covered his jaw, and dark strands of hair fell over his forehead, while the sides were cropped close, much like his beard.
