Step

  Though not as tall or muscular as Ten, Nikolai presented an imposing picture. With his arms crossed, he leaned back against his desk and exuded an air of pure danger. This wasn't a man to be crossed. Whatever he asked of me, I had to be sure I could repay the debt—or else he would find a way to collect that I would not enjoy.

  "Nikolai Nikolayevich," I greeted with respect. Though the man was known to be an orphan, it was assumed by everyone that his father had shared his same first name.

  "Stepan," he said stiffly. "It's been a while."

  "Yes."

  The mob boss studied me intently. "You typically come pay your respects at Samovar. If you're coming to my front door…"

  "I'm sorry. There was no time to do it properly."

  Nikolai exhaled roughly. "What's happened?"

  "My girlfriend's brother was just kidnapped by a bunch of meth heads. He's just a kid. I didn't know where else to go."

  Nikolai stiffened. "Have you called the police?"

  "No."

  "Good."

  "What's your girlfriend's connection to this mess?" Nikolai narrowed his eyes. "Is she a user?"

  I shook my head. "It's her stepfather. He's not in the picture. She has custody of her little brother. The dad split town years ago, after the mom went to prison, but he's back now. She said that her landlord stopped her this morning to give her a heads-up that her stepfather was up to no good. Apparently, he robbed a bunch of meth heads."

  "Who is her landlord?"

  "Spider."

  "I see." Nikolai's mouth settled into a tight line. "What is the stepfather's name?"

  "Jackie."

  Nikolai shrugged. "I don't know him." He glanced at Ten who shook his head. "Get Ilya. He knows everyone."

  Ten left the room, and Nikolai stared at me for an uncomfortably long moment. "This girl of yours?"

  "Yes?"

  "You care about her?"

  "I do."

  "Does she know how to keep quiet? Because you know how I feel about loose ends," the boss warned.

  Mouth dry, I nodded. "I do."

  The door opened and Ten returned with Ilya. Once it was closed, Nikolai asked, "Jackie? A meth head? Dealer?"

  Ilya nodded. "Yeah, he's from the Bloody Nick. He used to run product for Nickel Jackson, but he's been out of that crew for years. He has no protection. He has no backup. He's a freelancer and small time."

  Nikolai nodded. "That's one less complication."

  "Boss?" Ilya said hesitantly.

  "Yes?"

  "Stepan's girl? This Jemima?"

  "What about her?" Nikolai asked, and my stomach clenched painfully as I waited to hear what would be said. Maybe coming here was a mistake. If she had some history with the family that I didn't know about…

  "Her father was Crazy Kenny Coates."

  Nikolai's face slackened. "Is Boychenko with Vivian?"

  Ilya nodded. "I told him to stay close, just in case."

  "Just in case what?" The fine hairs on my arms and the back of my neck rose on end. "Are you threatening Jem?"

  "No." Nikolai spread his hands out in front of him. His calmness terrified me. This was a man who could shake your hand and smile—all while knowing a hit had been greenlit on your ass. "Your girl is safe in my home and in my city."

  "But?" I knew there was more to this story, and I wanted the details now.

  "Has she told you anything about her father?"

  "She said he was killed by the cartel. She said that no one was ever arrested. There were no suspects."

  Nikolai dragged a finger across his throat in the same way Jemima had done earlier in the day. "There's only one man who used that as his calling card when he was enforcing for the cartel."

  The way Nikolai phrased his reply made my heart skip a beat. "Romero Valero? Vivian's father?"

  He nodded. "So you understand why I'm concerned about my pregnant wife sitting down for a cup of tea with the daughter of a man killed by her father, yes?"

  "Yes."

  Nikolai straightened up and walked behind his desk. "What I've just told you? It stays between us. Nothing good will come from telling our women that truth. It's old and dead and buried. Let's leave it where it belongs—six feet underground."

  I didn't like it, but I knew what would happen if I ever revealed what I had learned here. Not even my connection to Ten could save me or Jem then.

  Nikolai picked pulled a burner phone from a bottom drawer of his desk, powered it up and made a single phone call. I expected him to call Kostya, the notorious cleaner who handled the family's dirty business, but he didn't.

  "Mueller," he said with the hint of a smile. "I think we need to meet. I have a proposition for you, and I think you'll find it's something you've wanted for a while now."

  I had no idea who this Mueller person was, but I had a bad feeling I was about to find out. The promise I had sworn to my older brother Semyon about staying out of the underworld had just gone up in flames. For Jem, for her brother, I had no other choice but to suck it up and wade back into those murky, dangerous waters.

  Chapter Eight

  Step

  "This shit brings back memories, huh?" Ten asked as we sat in the front seats of a black SUV with darkly tinted windows.

  "Not all good ones," I murmured, thinking of the stupid, risky things I had done when I was the same age as Benji. "Who is this Mueller guy?"

  Ten pointed to the real estate sign in the front windows of the empty strip mall. "He's a hotshot real estate guy from Dallas, but he has a growing branch down here."

  "What does a real estate guy have to do with your world?"

  Ten reached for the water bottle in his cup holder and unscrewed the cap. "He likes to keep his white sheets on his bed, but he's the most racist motherfucker you'll ever meet. He runs the skinhead action in Houston now. He's quiet and all about business—and that makes him incredibly dangerous."

  Fully aware that Ten's ideal woman was a big, bold black girl, I had an idea of how much he hated working with Mueller. Thinking of Benji, I said, "Jem's brother is half-black."

  "And?" Ten shrugged and took a long drink.

  "And your boss is asking Mr. White Supremacist to save him?"

  "Like I said," Ten replied, "Mueller will do this because Nikolai will offer him exactly what he wants as payment."

  "And what is that?"

  "The green light to go after the meth trade," Ten explained. "It's the Wild West, but Mueller and his guys want to control it. The boss doesn't want blood in the streets, but this is a controlled way for Mueller and his boys to make a statement. They can get this kid and clean out the rat's nest of dealers and cookers who kidnapped him." He dropped his water bottle into the cup holder. "Everybody wins."

  "And a lot of people die!"

  Ten shot me a strange look. "Bratan, what the fuck did you think was going to happen when you asked a pakhan for help?"

  He had a point, but it still bothered me. "This isn’t what I wanted."

  "You wanted to save your girlfriend's brother. That's what you're doing. Focus on that. Everything else? Push it out of your head."

  Knowing what Ten had done in service to the family, I wondered how many times he had given himself a version of that advice. There wasn't any other way he could stomach the things he had done without some sort of mental footlocker where he stowed all those troubling images and memories.

  Ten perked up and gestured toward the building with his chin. "Here we go."

  I watched Nikolai and Mueller come out of the empty building with two of their heavies standing escort. Kostya paid little attention to the conversation between his boss and Mueller. He scanned the area around us, probably searching for cartel snipers or worse.

  It was twilight out, and I could barely make out the shapes and shadows in the parking lot, but I had no doubt that Kostya could see everything. The rumors that swirled around the man suspected of being a former Russian spy claimed that he had all sorts of crazy cyborg-style impl
ants in his brains and eyes. He was no James Bond, but the man was dangerous and ruthless.

  "Looks like it's on," Ten said as he put his SUV in drive but kept his foot on the brake. He glanced at me while he waited for the small convoy to move out of the lot. "Whatever happens, you stay close to me. Semyon will gut me if anything happens to you."

  He wasn't kidding about my big brother's overprotective streak. It was a trait that had always made me scoff, but now I considered what I was doing for Jem and her brother. Semyon didn't seem so crazy to me anymore.

  Mueller and his men pulled out of the lot first. One of Nikolai's other captains followed close behind. Ten and I brought up the rear behind the boss and the cleaner. I didn't ask where we were going. I stayed silent and let Ten get his head straight. This was his world, and I was just the interloper. I didn't want anyone to get hurt, especially not my own family, so I decided not to get in the way, even if that meant keeping silent when I really wanted answers.

  A long time later, we turned down a winding country road in the eastern part of Montgomery County. It was a rural area not far from Houston where ramshackle houses and rundown trailers with foil-covered windows were the norm. The abject and cyclical poverty in this area crushed the hopes and dreams of too many. It saddened me. I thought of the abusive, drunken father and the life I had escaped and the life I had created for myself. I thought of how damned hard Jem had probably worked to save her brother and give him a chance at making something successful out of his life. I hoped he understood the sacrifices she had made to give him a chance.

  Headlights were cut, and we were plunged into darkness. The caravan of SUVs crept down the bumpy, unpaved road. Thick piney forests surrounded us. Apprehension gripped my gut. I wasn't used to this sort of life anymore. I had gotten soft and couldn’t hang with these hard men.

  The SUVs slowed to a stop. One by one, men climbed out of them and started arming themselves for what looked like a fucking war. Ten slapped my arm and indicated that it was time for me to join them. I hadn't fired a gun in years and hoped they didn't expect me to try to use one tonight. I would be a liability they didn’t need.

  The man named Mueller had shed his expensive bespoke suit jacket and silk tie. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. In the bright moonlight, I spotted the dark and ugly swastikas marking his forearms. He had more tattoos on his elbows and swirling up under his shirt. One of his men handed him a pump action shotgun. He rested the barrel against his shoulder and glanced around the group of men waiting to join him. "Are we ready?"

  After a round of nods, Mueller led the men into the woods. Nikolai clasped my shoulder to keep me from following. "We stay here with Ten."

  My stomach churned violently. I breathed as quietly and slowly as possible and strained to hear every noise. The woods were alive with insects and animals. My heartbeat ticked up a notch with every passing minute. What was happening? Was Benji all right? I thought of how scared he must be right now and how terrified Jem was back at the Kalasnikov estate. I swore then and there that those two would never know fear like this again. Not on my fucking watch.

  The blast of a shotgun tore through the stillness of the night and startled me. I noticed that neither of my companions showed even the tiniest hint of being surprised. I could hear Ten working a piece of gum between his teeth as he stood beside me with his arms crossed. Nikolai had positioned himself a few steps in front of us. He seemed to be watching and waiting for something.

  Two more shotgun blasts ripped through the night air. I swallowed and waited, straining to hear anything that might let me know if Benji had been recovered and if he was unhurt. I flexed my fingers at my side and tried not to fidget too much. How long had it been since the last gunshots? Five minutes? Ten?

  And then, faintly but growing louder, I heard the unmistakable crunch of approaching footsteps. Kostya and Three-Fingered Arty emerged from the woods with a hooded and cuffed figure between them. He was thrust at me, and I realized it was Benji. The moonlight overhead illuminated Kostya's shirt just long enough for me to catch the glimpse of blood spatter on his clothing.

  I started to reach for the hood covering Benji's head but Kostya stopped me. He wagged a finger and pointed at the SUV. I understood his instruction. Benji had to stay covered and bound until we were away from here. No eyewitness accounts. No loose ends.

  I silently helped Benji into the backseat of the SUV and got into the front passenger seat. I waited for Ten to join us. I wanted to ask him what had happened back at the house, but I didn't. Sometimes it was safer to know nothing. Sometimes it was safer to stay silent.

  Not a word was spoken until we had almost reached Houston. Ten pulled over on an isolated strip of road, and I climbed into the backseat with Benji. I carefully untied his hood and pulled the fabric gag out of his mouth. He had a bloodied, bruised lip and busted nose. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

  Benji shook his head. His eyes narrowed and then widened. "Holy shit! Stepan Vasiliev? What the hell? I mean—dude. Why are you rescuing me?"

  I accepted the frighteningly sharp knife Ten had offered me and slit the duct tape binding Benji's wrists together. "It's a long story, kid."

  "Well, I think I want to hear it."

  "Probably not all of it," Ten replied with a smirk as he took back the knife and folded it closed. "I doubt you want to hear the parts about your idol climbing into bed with your sister."

  "Ten! Jesus!" I punched my cousin's arm, but he just laughed.

  "Wait. Wait. You and my sister? You and Jem?" Benji reached up and touched his head.

  "Are you hurt?" Concerned, I leaned closer to examine him.

  "No, man, but I'm wondering if maybe I have a concussion and am hallucinating this. Because you and my sister? That isn't possible. She hates your music."

  Ten snorted in the front seat, and I whacked him again. Turning back to Benji, I explained, "I don't need another fan of my music. I just need her."

  "But how? How in the hell did you meet my sister?"

  "It's a long story, kid."

  "Yeah, well, leave out the gross parts, okay? I don't need to know all my sister's business."

  "Fair enough."

  "We need to get moving," Ten said, his gaze drifting to the rearview mirror. "What's your address, kid?"

  Benji rattled off the number, and Ten eased back onto the highway. I stayed in the rear seats with Benji and gave him the PG version of my day with Jem. He wasn't happy about her losing her job, and he made damned sure I knew it. When I explained that she would be working for me, he seemed lukewarm about the idea. It didn't take me long to figure out that he was intensely protective of his big sister. I had gone from the rocker he had sneaked into a club to meet to the man who wasn't good enough for his sister in the blink of an eye.

  When we reached the home he shared with Jem, Benji led me inside to pack some bags for them while Ten stood guard. We didn't have much time so I had to let Benji help me pack up the necessities for Jem. Though their house was tiny and old, the two of them kept it immaculately clean and had made it into a real home. I envied the coziness and their happiness together.

  As I stared at some photos of the brother and sister on a camping trip, Benji came to stand beside me. "You two look happy in these."

  "We've had some rough patches the last three years, but it's been mostly good." Benji adjusted one of the frames. "Jem is an amazing person."

  "I know."

  "Do you?" Benji scrutinized me. "My sister is the sweetest, kindest person you will ever meet. She gave up a lot for me. She gave up college and her dreams of having a real career. She works two and three jobs at a time to make sure that I can go to my magnet school and pay for my trips and clubs and project fees. And she, like, never complains about it. Never. She goes to bed at midnight and gets up at four to start the cycle all over again."

  "I want to take care of her, Benji." I touched his shoulder. "I'll take care of both of you, if you'll let me."

  "I don't think
Jem wants someone to play sugar daddy. I think she wants someone who will be her partner and help her achieve her goals."

  "I can be that person."

  "Can you?"

  "Yes."

  "If you hurt her—"

  "I'm sure I'll make mistakes, Benji. I'm sure that we'll fight and argue about all sorts of things, but I will never hurt her. I won't hurt her physically or emotionally."

  "If you do, I'll fucking end you, brah."

  "I know you will." This kid would be a full-grown man soon, and I had no doubt that he would carry through with that threat.

  "You two done with the heartfelt chat?" Ten poked his head through the front door. "Your nosy neighbor is making me nervous. If she calls the cops, I'm fucking out of here, and you two are on your own. My P.O. will bust my ass for breaking curfew."

  "We're good." Benji grabbed his backpack and Jem's small suitcase and followed Ten out of the house. I turned off the lights and joined them at the SUV.

  When we walked into the Kalasnikov house a short time later, Jem raced across the kitchen and flung herself at Benji. He caught his sister and hugged her tight. As she embraced her brother, she held out her hand and smiled at me. Feeling like a hero, I gripped her small hand in mine.

  I didn't know what our future held in store for us, but I believed it would filled with happy moments like these.

  Chapter Nine

  Jem

  Needing to reassure myself that Benji was okay, I peeked into the guest room he had claimed and made sure that he was sleeping peacefully. I tiptoed quietly into the room and placed his inhaler on the bedside table before carefully retreating and shutting the door. After the stress of his ordeal, I feared his asthma would bother him tonight.

  I tracked Step down in his bedroom. Barefoot and bare-chested, he wore only a low-slung pair of pajama bottoms as he sat on the edge of his bed and strummed an acoustic guitar. There were sheets of staff paper and a notepad covered in scribbled lyrics on the bright white comforter. He glanced up as I entered the room, and I froze. "I didn't mean to interrupt you while you're working. I can come back later."