Kostya: A Dark Mafia Romance (Zinon Bratva) by Nicole Fox (my reading book .TXT) 📕

from upstairs. Fuck. Whelan’s man is as stubborn and as loyal as any I have ever met. He’s given us no information we can use, nothing that tells us what we need to know about the Irish operations in Los Angeles. No plans. No intel. And with his obstinance, he’s signed his own death warrant.

Yelisey has assured me our captive is high in the Whelan ranks, but I’m starting to wonder. If he knows anything at all, he’s willing to sacrifice himself to keep it quiet. Rare commodity if true. Much more likely, Yelisey is wrong and this man means nothing to the Whelan higher-ups; Jack and Collin and their ilk.

I roll away from Charlotte and stand. I’ve ignored my business long enough for her. But she murmurs my name in her sleep and I am mesmerized, staring for a minute as the moonlight streams through the part in the curtains, glowing against her skin.

I’m captivated. And angry. Angry that she followed me. That I lost control of myself. That Whelan’s man had the opportunity to touch her.

Since it will likely come to it later, and later will be harder on Tiana, I probably should have killed her if for nothing else than for her irreverent snooping.

But I couldn’t. I looked into her eyes, saw the innocence, then the desire, and I was weak. Hopeless.

I’m ashamed. And angry for that weakness. I let my manhood make a decision it had no business making, and if I’m to remain in power, I can never let that happen again.

As I pull on my pants and slip back into my shirt, she twists to the side, and for a moment, I watch her again, remembering the smooth, silky skin, the taste of her kiss, her body responding to mine. The blanket slips and I catch a glimpse of her pebbled nipple. The things I would do for one final taste …

Her slight smile and the flutter of her eyelids makes my gut ache with how badly I want to roll her over and plunge my cock inside of her.

Instead, I force myself to turn away. It’s time to work out my aggression. The interrogation room, formerly where I kept an antique pool table and a pinball machine that were favorites when I was young, has been cleaned out with the exception of my prisoner and the men guarding him. I don’t bother with the noise. Don’t care if Charlotte hears. I will deal with what I have to deal with because I am Kostya Zinon, and it’s what I do. If she has to be killed, then I’ll give the order. Until then, I have the Whelans demanding attention I am all too happy to provide.

Yelisey is seated at the table in the dining room. “Kostya, this man is a confidant of Jack Whelan. He’s been a close friend of the Family for over a decade.” I nod because the information is fine to have but will be of no use except to guarantee that we’ll get nothing out of him and he’s worth more to me dead.

I smack the double doors open and stride into the room as if I haven’t already decided to kill him. As if I am only here to continue the interrogation. But my men know. How could they not? It’s been days, and he’s not going to break. And what does he get for his loyalty to a family that hasn’t tried to get him back? Who isn’t burning down my businesses until I free him?

For his trouble, his pain … now he dies.

His head is bleeding from a cut at his hairline in the front and a gash at the crown in the back. His face is swollen and disfigured. And while I have no desire to wear his blood, I cannot leave it all to my men. Some things a king must do with his own hand. “Stand him up.”

Dmitri and Vlad each take an arm and hold this Whelan bitch hostage as I drive my fist into his face. The bones, already broken, don’t even crunch anymore. The thrill of hitting this man is gone for me. “Kill him and scrub away any memory of his life.” I need the room restored, the evidence destroyed, the prisoner taken away. “But send Jack Whelan his head.”

If a war is started—and I have no reason to believe it hasn’t—I will fire a shot Jack Whelan won’t easily forget. I’ll send home the first casualty.

Now that I’ve given the order, I have no reason to stay in the guesthouse. No reason to torture myself with her scent on my body and my tongue. I’ve quenched my need for her. And I have more important things to do than sit in this house and swoon over a woman.

No matter how exquisite she is.

I walk back to the house, breathing in deep gulps of the night air. But I can still smell the sweet scent of Charlotte, still feel her caress against my skin, although it’s probably nothing more than the flower garden drifting along on a soft southerly wind.

This woman is a distraction I cannot afford, especially right now. The coming days may bring hard decisions, ones I make and ones that are made for me. Tiana and the business can be my only concerns.

In my office, my mind is clearer, my focus sharper. I check the monitors first. The grounds are quiet, and the job I ordered has been done. Whelan’s man is dead, and three of my men are cleaning the billiard room and putting it back to what it should be while Dmitri and Vlad take care of the body.

Now, I can focus on business. I must prepare further for the coming battles with the Whelans. There won’t be a truce between us. I will accept only Whelan surrender; complete and total devolvement of their business interests along the West Coast.

And to make that happen, I’m going to need street-level intel, a meet with the