1
ANDRE
The car lurched forward at the abrupt stop. Braking smoothly wasn’t in the cards. Not with the mood I was in as we arrived at the second warehouse to visit tonight.
My mood was only sinking and darkening with every passing second.
I stared out the windshield at the dark sky touching the scene of the docks and water out ahead of the parking area.
Impatience simmered in my blood. Frustration kicked up my pulse. Anger coated me as I sat there for a minute and scowled.
This shit was getting old.
Or I was.
“It’s too bad that Sergei’s gotta be on his honeymoon right now,” Oleg, one of my most trusted soldiers, complained from the passenger seat.
Rolling my head on the headrest of the driver’s seat, I narrowed my eyes at him. I was fed up with how long it was taking to findthe mole who was disrupting our drug trade, but I wasnotlosing my edge. Oleg probably wasn’t implying that, but I wasn’t about to ask him to clarify.
My cousin, Sergei, was damned good at rooting out the source of problems within the organization. He was ruthless. Determined. Deadly. Yet, since he’d met and married Natalie, he was more well-rounded and slower to violence—within reason. He’d never lose that part of him. None of us could. Born into the Orlov Family, we were fated to always be killers and dangerous men who’d stop at no hurdles to protect our family and brothers.
But I wouldn’t have minded his assistance at the moment. Especially when it seemed like I was running in circles—at best—with all the problems threatening our drug operations.
“He’s due a break,” I replied dryly.
Sergei didn’t take much time off, anyway. None of us did when the perils and threats were ever-present. My father, Mikhail Orlov, had barely taken much time off from leading the family after my half-brother, Owen, was born mere weeks ago.
Oleg snorted a wry laugh. “Of course, Sergei’s due a break after putting up with the fuckin’ Popovs like that.”
I nodded, watching the still surface of the water out the window. We were the only car parked along this side of the warehouse while the others and the trucks used the west side. Loaders and drivers were bustling like busy bees preparing to distribute the latest load of goods to our dealers. A drop like this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but with how often we’d been facing challenges to our standard operations, it seemed critical to supervise and micro-manage. No matter what I did, it seemed like I’d never find the mole who was passing intel to our enemieswho’d attack or thwart our dealers and movers. Drug trade was a lucrative business, but it was cut-throat and highly competitive, too.
“If Niko Popov knows what’s good for him,” I replied, “he won’t fuck with us anytime soon.” Sergei had been instrumental in hunting down and killing off several of the Popov Family, taking out the men responsible for abducting Maisie, Natalie’s young daughter.
Oleg nodded, rubbing his chin. “But when has that motherfucker ever known what’s good for him?” he asked with a wry, teasing tone.
I smirked in agreement. Since before I was born, Niko Popov had been a nuisance my father had to contend with as he ruled our organization. If we weren’t dealing with Popov as a rival who wanted our power, wealth, and turf, then Roberto Giovanni and his Mafia family were causing us hell. And if those Italian idiots were preoccupied, then there were the Mexican Cartels. Motorcycle clubs from the Midwest. Other aspiring gangs. Politicians and the black market that the military sponsored.
Like I said—this shit was getting old, with no end or break in sight.
Looking for the mole who was selling intel about our drug routes and shipments was taking too damn long, though. I’d recently scoffed at the idea that the mole could bewithinthe Orlov family, but I had to accept that possibility now. I’d been hunting and spying and tracking and chasing. Every potential lead died off to nothing. Each clue I gathered brought me nowhere closer to knowing who was fucking with us.
“Whenever I catch this fucking mole, they’ll wish that they knew better,” I growled.
All this time that the rat was out there, messing up one of our most successful sources of revenue, that was more time and money we were losing. More men, too, because our dealers and movers were getting caught in the crossfire each time they ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, the Giovannis “conveniently” there to usurp our sales or the cops and assholes from the DEA there to try to make arrests.
Oleg was just as peeved. He rubbed his chin again and let out a deep breath. “It’s gotta be someone on the inside. I know you ain’t wanna consider that, but fuck, Andre, we’ve been lookingeverywhereelse.”
I cringed. It wasn’t a matter of pride that prevented me from thinking someone in the Orlov organization was behind the lies and distribution of confidential intel. It was the frustration at being wrong. My father trusted the leaders in charge of what we did—the supervisors like Sergei, my other cousin, Roman, and me. Consequently, we stood by the men and soldiers who swore their loyalty to us. I didn’twantto doubt anyone or start second-guessing the brothers and fighters who were supposed to always be faithful to the family.
Once that kind of doubt was sown, it was awfully fucking hard to kick the habit of never trusting anyone. And I was already damned skeptical, guarded to ever let anyone get close or last in my life.
“You know, I was confident we’d find that fucking mole at the last warehouse,” he said tiredly.
“Me too.”
We’d spread a false lead about a shipment due to come in at the storage warehouse we’d just come from. It was intended to be a carrot dangling for anyone wanting to steal some product. Oleg and I had gone there to watch from a distance, counting on the fake intel being sold and shared. We expected an ambush, and we had guards set up to take down those who’d strike out.
But nothing had happened.
