The Enforcer (Chicago Bratva #3) - Renee Rose Page 0,19

while now.

Why, then, does it feel like such a loss when Oleg walks out my door?

Chapter 4

Oleg

I climb in the back of Maxim’s Tesla.

“Give him your phone,” Maxim barks and Pavel.

Pavel hands me his phone, and Maxim hands his to Pavel as he puts the car in drive and pulls out.

“Who was it?” Maxim demands.

My head throbs, and I still feel raw and rough from upsetting Story back there. Fuck. I definitely didn’t mean to offend her by having Maxim give her money. I just expected him to do and say the right things because I can’t say them myself. I wanted to take care of her. And I’m sure she could use the money. I did the math in my head. She can’t bring in more than eight hundred a week giving guitar lessons. So it’s not terrible money, but it’s not like she’s rich or anything. And Maxim is. He was smooth as fuck, too—saying all the right things, and it still pissed her off.

She didn’t want him talking for me.

I’m still rocked to the core by that. Like torn down the center of the chest, heart exposed where it beats. I’ve never felt so vulnerable in my life.

And I still don’t know what I’m going to tell Ravil and the guys about this. I want to ignore Maxim, but I know that’s not going to fly, so I type in the details in Russian.

Three guys. Spoke Russian. I fought them and got away. I don’t tell him that they wanted me alive.

That I know why.

Pavel reads my brief text out loud for Maxim. For me, it’s not brief. It’s about the longest I usually get with any communique.

“It’s the three guys Dima tracked into the country.” Maxim smacks the dash. “Call Dima and tell him to text the photos to my phone.”

I remember now that Maxim had Dima set up tracking software to flag any persons of interest from all incoming Russian flights because he feared someone from the Moscow bratva would try to kill Sasha for her millions. If those meatheads who tried to capture me Saturday came over recently, Dima would’ve noted it. They weren’t bratva, but they still might’ve raised flags.

Pavel makes the call, and a few moments later Ravil’s phone buzzes with the incoming texts. I open them, then nod at Pavel. Maxim catches it in the rearview mirror.

“Fuck!” Maxim explodes. “I knew they were trouble. Did they ask anything? Say anything?”

I shake my throbbing head. My pulse races. Maxim believes this is about Sasha. I shouldn’t let him. I should come clean about my past.

But then, I should’ve done that two years ago when Ravil brought me into the fold. I can’t do it now without them all feeling my betrayal.

“Did all three walk away?” Pavel asks. Which really means, did I do any real harm to them? Sadly, no.

I shrug and nod.

And thankfully, that ends my interrogation. The guys are so used to me offering nothing that they don’t push. Maxim heard what he needed to hear. He will guard his bride and put systems in place to locate these guys. To eliminate the threat.

Which works in my favor, of course. Until whoever is after me sends another crew.

Maxim’s phone rings, and Dima’s name comes on the screen. Dima is our hacker. There’s nothing the guy can’t hack or program.

I hand the phone back to Maxim since I obviously can’t answer. “Those were the guys,” Maxim confirms.

“I have a location,” Dima clips, all business. Ravil’s organization is smooth and orderly—efficient. Pavel was in the Russian military. Ravil and Maxim are genius-level strategists. Nikolai, Dima’s twin, is a bookie. I’m the muscle. The enforcer. But we’re a team—the spokes of a wheel.

“Text it to me.” Maxim twists around to look at me. “You okay with a detour? You don’t have to come in.”

I’m not. I will need to hurl as soon as the Denali stops, and I’m pretty desperate for a painkiller, but of course, I nod. Killing these fuckers is top priority. How I’m feeling is totally irrelevant.

Maxim navigates through traffic. I open the door at a red light to puke, and he curses in Russian.

“Maybe we should take him back first,” Pavel says. His gun is on his lap, silencer already screwed on.

I pull my head back in the vehicle and slam the door then wave my hand impatiently with a frown.

Pavel shrugs. “Okay. He wants to go.”

It’s not a long drive. We get to a hotel, and Maxim parks.