Mikhail

9

After debating on how to react after I had been boldly kidnapped from one of our clubs, my father had finally decided that a warning shot was better than starting a war.

He had assigned Vinnie, James and two other of our men in a retaliation raid on Peter Mogilevich's shipments. I had been able to insist I join, despite all too aware of the risk of bumping into Mikhail. If I did, I had vowed to myself I wouldn't hesitate again to kill him.

My instincts had always carried me, but Mikhail's sudden appearance in the picture had proved an unpleasant bump in the road, which would hopefully soon end. There would be no possibility of failure or danger once he was taken care of.

James attempted to quieten the whispers between Vinnie and I with a harsh look, reminding us that we were currently camping in one of the large warehouses on the secluded property, hiding behind an unopened industrial crate and waiting for the right time to rush.

"After we've taken care of Gold and Lancaster," I continued about my plans, ignoring James' concern, "we'll hit Mogilevich."

"He has a son ready to take his place. Killing him will start a bloodier war than what we've had in decades," he shrugged, smile widening, "but I'll gladly join you."

"Fantastic," I laughed quietly and nudged the man beside me gently.

James then motioned discreetly that the time had finally come, and we took our guns into our hands. I crouched behind him and followed as the men began making their way closer to the newly arrived shipment on the other side of the warehouse.

Vinnie muttered out a curse when he had kicked his foot into the edge of one of the storage racks, causing the sound of it to echo through the hall. I followed the lead of the three in front of me and ignored it, positive of the ten minute timeframe we had before Mogilevich's men would return.

We made our way stealthily alongside the wall, guns held low and eyes scanning our surroundings for any movement other than ours. When we reached the point we had agreed to separate on, Vinnie went with James and I went with Lucas, while Oliver went by himself.

The high and full storage racks hid us from each other, all assigned to different and industrial wooden crates.

"3013," I spoke to Lucas, who was now following me. I slipped my gun away and slowed down my steps, eyes scanning over the crates to find this specific one.

He trailed behind me and did as I, new to this and with us now to learn.

"3003," he informed me from a few feet away, pointing up at a crate on the third shelf, "it has to be close."

I ignored him and continued searching for it. I found it within a few seconds and grabbed the crowbar Lucas had been carrying.

"I can-" he had begun, but I pried the crate open myself.

I found it offensive that I would be in the vicinity of beginners, when I should be with James and Vinnie on much more challenging missions.

The front of it fell to the ground after I had used the weight of my body to crack it open from the rest of the wooden structure, and white styrofoam peanuts spilled out onto the concrete floor. With it came neatly wrapped packages of cocaine.

"Lucas, take these and-" I began, grabbing one to hand to him. Once I looked over, I froze.

The panicked tears in his eyes made me stand up and glare furiously at the man pressing his gun against Lucas' shivering neck, a wicked grin on his lips with devastatingly sexy and dark eyes drilling into me.

"You really need start being more prepared, sweet Natalia," he advised once again demeaningly, holding Lucas' hair roughly in his grip from behind, towering over the shaking and frightened young man who in comparison looked like a skinny stick figure, "or did you miss me this much?"