Page 3 of Bought By Sin

Adrik was taking over as the interim Pakhan and doing his best to lead.

Maksim was proving to contribute as our problem solver.

Whereas Alexei just wanted to be a follower and do whatever was asked of him. With zero passion that could be borne out of fury, like me. I shook my head as he walked away from Uncle Dmitri’s bed. He could be as cool and detached as he wanted, but personally, I couldn’t stand the idea of a complication like this. I couldn’t accept the ugly reality that Gregori could be alive and able to threaten us at all—whether it was to take the throne or to make our lives hell.

“Maksim says Dean’s requesting assistance at a collection operation,” he said, looking up from whatever text he was reading on his phone as I stared at my uncle.

That was probably why my phone had buzzed in my pocket, too. An alert for backup. We always worked as a team, but if Dean, one of our main men who handled smuggling runs and shipments, needed backup, it probably meant that Maksim was too busy to help him himself. Ever since Carina learned that she was pregnant, Maksim had reduced his time in the field.

“Collection for what?” I asked, finally walking away from Uncle Dmitri. I couldn’t tell if Alexei was using this text as a way to jar me out of being here and dwelling on Uncle Dmitri’s demise and Gregori’s return, but it worked. As one of the main enforcers for the Bratva, if backup was requested, I would typically be included.

“Something between the Garcia and Hernandez Cartels,” Alexei said.

“Of course,” I muttered, exiting the room with him. Carina Garcia had been arranged to marry Maksim mere months ago, but the Cartel she’d left had undergone many changes. Presently, we could all be confident the new Cartel boss, Jorge, was more sensitive to remaining our allies in the region. The Hernandezes, though, would forever be a problem to monitor.

“You want me to go?” he offered, probably assuming I didn’t have my head in the game at the moment.

I shook my head. “No. I’ll go.” It’d do me well to get out of this house and out of my head.

After I drove out to the handoff location where Dean was supervising a collection of debt that the Hernandezes owed a couple of Garcia Cartel runners, I immediately realized that this standoff at the border was more than just a minor argument.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I got out of my car and approached Dean.

He didn’t turn to face me, keeping his eyes on the literal standoff. Two members of the Hernandez Cartel faced off with a Garcia Cartel member. Guns were out. A woman’s hands were raised in surrender. Most noticeably, on the ground, a large bag that should’ve likely held money was empty. Blue canvas flapped in the wind around the sacks of sand weights that had been put in as decoys.

“They’re not paying up?” I guessed. The Garcia Cartel was once more an ally of the Bratva, so if they were being fucked in a collection attempt, we would need to intervene.

“No. Some of the Hernandezes already ran.” Dean tipped his chin at the short woman who held her hands up. Her short bob of chestnut waves partly covered her narrowed eyes, but when the breeze calmed down, the defiance on her face stayed the same. She stood there stubbornly, not flinching or cowering at the Garcia Cartel member who pointed a gun directly at her forehead. “She’s not budging. Not saying where they ran off to, either.”

Interesting.

Even under gunpoint like this in a standoff, under the hot desert sun, she won’t buckle under pressure?

The Hernandez thug behind her had his gun trained at the Garcia Cartel member threatening to shoot the woman. In terms of proximity, the Garcia Cartel member was closer.

She was caught. A captured drug runner. In those filthy, worn, ripped jeans that molded to her legs and the tan shirt that was stained red from the terrain’s dust, she didn’t budge an inch.

Interesting, indeed.

I stepped forward, shoving the idea of my uncle and Gregori behind me as I approached the situation to intervene. To enforce.

To sate this intrigue that I couldn’t silence or rein in as I took in the sight of this defiant woman staring down the end of a gun barrel like nothing in life ever scared her. Like she was completely unafraid, intimidated by nothing and no one.

Not even the promise of death.

Let’s see if you’re as impervious to me.

2

MILA

Sweat dripped down my face, tracing along my cheeks and slipping into the corners of my eyes. The sun beat down on me as I stood out here in the desert.

Baking.

Burning.

Sweltering and steaming under the heat of midday hell.