Paying The Bratva’s Debt by Cole, Jagger (best classic books to read .txt) 📕

The guy scoffs. “Christ, you got fuckin’ manners over there in Russia?”

“Not really.”

He approaches me. He’s not leaving. That means I’m not getting shanked. Just put away for life. He leans down behind me. Suddenly, I furrow my brow in confusion as I feel him unlocking my ankle shackles.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He stands and walks around to the front of the table I’m chained to. He glares at me and shakes his head. “You know what? Sometimes the level of bullshit in this town stinks so bad, even I can smell it. And let me tell you somethin’, that’s saying a lot.”

I look at him quizzically.

“You got sprung, dipshit.”

My mind goes numb. He reaches across the table and unlocks my shackles.

“I what?”

“Sprung, you Russian fuck. Charges were dropped.”

I stare at him. “Is this a joke?”

“Am I fuckin’ laughing?” He frowns. “That goddamn liberal DA of ours dropped your charges. Some kinda technicality or some shit.”

The DA. Thomas. My heart starts to race. I don’t know how she did it, or how I know it was her. But deep down, I know. This is Fiona. My smile widens as my pulse thuds.

“I don’t fuckin’ know. If it was up to me, we’d just hang you,” the guard mutters.

“Well, then I suppose I’m glad that it isn’t up to you.”

He glares at me. “Get the fuck out of here, Komarov.”

“Gladly.”

I stand, turn, and I walk out of the cell. A uniformed cop outside nods with his head, gesturing me to follow him. My guard is still up. I’m still waiting for the surprise attack, or the knife in my back. But it doesn’t come. We walk down a long hallway, towards a door with a window in it. The cop unlocks it, glares at me, and nods.

“Out, now.”

I blink and look around. I frown. Is it seriously that simple? Fiona gets her father to release me somehow, and I just… walk out?

“Did you hear me?”

I glance at the cop. “I heard you. I’m just curious—”

“Viktor!”

My heart surges in my chest. My head whips around, and when I see the frantic looking, gorgeous redhead bolting across the sidewalk towards me, I grin. I step from the prison and charge towards her. We crash together, my arms wrapping tight around her as my mouth crushes to hers. She moans into my lips, sobbing as she kisses me over and over.

“What… how…” I groan into her mouth. “How did you—?”

“Because I’m a pretty fucking good lawyer,” she shrugs. “Or, well, I will be.”

I grin. “Yes, you will.”

She beams up at me, wrapped in my arms. “I don’t know if you’re hiring, but—”

“I could, you know…” I smile. “Pull some strings.”

“Oh gosh,” she gushes sarcastically. “For little ole’ me?”

“I’m sure we could come up with an arrangement,” I growl hungrily.

Fiona grins, kissing me again.

“I cannot believe you pulled this off, printsessa.”

She smiles mysteriously. “Sacrifice the rook, so the king may fall.”

I frown, trying to make sense of it in this context. But Fiona just shrugs. “I’ll be honest, Nina said that. Honestly, I don’t really have any interest in chess.”

I groan through a chuckle. “You and Nina are friends now?”

“Yep. She’s great.”

“God, help me.”

Fiona giggles as I lean close to kiss her again. But then I pull back. “You have no interest in chess? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t get it. I mean, I know how it’s played. It’s just never…” she shrugs.

“Well, I’ll teach you.”

“You could…” She leans close, her body molding to mine. “Or you could spend some more time teaching other things…”

I growl deeply. “I hope your schedule is clear.”

“It is now,” she whispers.

“I love you, Fiona,” I growl against her lips. “I mean I’m in love with you. Just so you know.”

She beams, her hands sliding around my neck. “Just so you know,” she whispers. She looks up into my eyes. “I’m in love with you too.”

Our lips press hotly together. I kiss her deeply, boldly, and like I’ll never let her go.

Epilogue Fiona

My fingers grip the sheets. I tremble in anticipation. Behind me, I hear the door open, and my heart races. I blink behind the silk blindfold, feeling my skin goosebump under his gaze. Even without seeing him, I can feel his eyes on me. I can feel his jaw clenching and imagine his cock thickening for me.

If this is Russia, I could get used to this.

It’s my first time here, and Viktor’s first since he left years and years ago with Lev. We’re doing a bit of sightseeing—it’s heartbreaking and incredible to see the streets and the ghettos where the man I love fought for basic survival as a kid. But we’re also here for business.

Both businesses.

Viktor is here to ascend to an official chair at the Bratva council. His leadership running the Kashenko interests in Chicago all of these years has not gone unnoticed by the high table. And they’re rewarding him with a voice at it. We’ll still be living in Chicago, of course. But it’s an enormous honor to be welcomed at the table any time.

The other business is our more legitimate side of things. That would be the non-profit, Free Them, that Viktor’s foundation started. I co-run most of the day-to-day operations alongside Lada Turgenev, and as of now, we’ve rescued three-hundred-ninety-six children from lives of imprisonment and worse. We’re opening a new office here in Moscow that another lawyer/doctor team will be running.

The Free Them Organization has been lauded as one of the most effective anti-child-trafficking nonprofits in operation. We don’t need to advertise that it’s helpful to have the Bratva working behind the scenes on our team. When you can find out where these pieces of human trash are operating out of and send in a team of ruthless Russian killers to “negotiate,” things end up being pretty freaking effective.

Back home, my dad ended up scoring a win. Or at least, a win while it lasted. He went