Protected by a Mobster: A Russian Mafia Romance (Volsky Mafia Book 1)

Protected by a Mobster

By Jacee Macguire

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons – living or dead – is entirely coincidental.

Protected by a Mobster © December 2015, Jacee Macguire

Cover Image © Can Stock Photo Inc. / curaphotography

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews.

Chapter One – Liliya

“Murder is an inherently evil act, no matter what the circumstances, no matter how convincing the rationalizations.”

- 
Bentley Little, The Ignored

There’s something to be said about the men in my rather large family. They may seem normal to the untrained eye of an outsider, but they’re much more than they seem to be. Dressed in their expensive suits, they give the appearance of being wealthy businessmen… and they are.

But there’s a darker, more deadly, side to each and every one of them; the commanding tone of their voices and that cold harsh stare that stops you in your tracks, demanding that you take notice of them, even if you don’t want to. I should know that better than anyone. I know what they are capable of. I learned that truth the hard way.

For twenty-one years, I’ve lived under a rock, seeing only what I wanted to see. I saw so much, yet so little at the very same time. Sure, I’d heard the rumors and seen the headlines, but I never believed them for a second. One could say I chose to ignore the truth. Maybe that’s exactly what I did. Ignorance is said to be bliss, but in my world, ignorance can get you killed. That’s another fact I’ve learned recently, and it scares the living hell out of me.

Now that the rose-colored glasses have been removed, forever shattered by the truth of my life, I feel betrayed. For the first time, I see the big picture, the darkness and chaos that surrounds me like a cloud of smoke, fluttering and swirling in the air, strangling the image I once had of my family.

Everything in my life is shifting, and I’m powerless to stop it. My family is unlike any other. Lies, murder, and a host of other unsavory shit feed their enterprise. Power is what my father seeks.

Bloodshed is what his underlings covet.

Money is a happy by-product for the lot of them.

My gut twists at how my life has been spoiled by the dirty deeds of the men I have trusted and loved.

Blood money is what I see it as. Blood money is exactly what it is. There is no other way to describe it. I feel shame for living amongst it all, thriving from it. To say that my awakening to this world hasn’t changed me would be a lie. It has changed me, in both good and bad ways. I grasp the good, hoping and praying it will multiply and make me feel whole again, but it hasn’t. The bad ways have taken hold of me and that scares me. Am I to become just like them? The answer to that question is a resounding yes. The thought leaves a bitter, acidic taste in my mouth. It may be all about money and power to them, but to me it’s more than that.

The money that is so casually spent on trivial luxuries is made on the back of dirty deals and rivalries that go back decades. Trust is a rare commodity in this life, as is love. Marriages are a business deal meant to strengthen alliances and bring others crashing down into piles of ash that scatter to the winds.

And worst of all, emotions make you weak. They make you feel too much, leading with your heart instead of logical thought, leading you to make mistakes. Make too many mistakes, and there’s only one way left for things to end.

Death.

It always finds those who let themselves wander too far away from those they kneel before and swear allegiance to.

I’ve learned my lesson. I kneel to no one. I will never kneel.

Right now my emotions play over me like an orchestra with badly tuned instruments. The sounds of the lies and the betrayal, the deafening report of a gunshot, leave my muscles cringing, cutting me straight to the bone.

This life hardens you.

It’s hardening me.

All of the soft edges of my childhood that were smooth are now jagged and razor sharp. Revenge is what I seek more than anything else now. Forget love. Forget happiness. The blood of those who betrayed me is what I covet. I need it like I need air to breathe. My body is hollow and filled with a hurt that has grown more painful with each day that passes.

The wounds of the truth are too fresh on me still. Nothing and no one is what they seem to be, and that realization hurts more than I ever thought possible. It’s a burning agonizing pain that never dulls. It reverberates, expanding until there is nothing left to give. It peels away at my flesh, exposing parts of me that I’m not ready for anyone to see. The truth makes me want to do terrible and horrible things. It leaves me restless and wanting.

Unfulfilled.

Exposed.

The pain I feel rushes through my body, lighting a stinging fire in my veins, scorching my nerves as it twists and turns within me, finally melding with the fear blossoming in my gut. I welcome it. It reminds me of what is at stake and just how much I have to lose.

How far am I willing to go? When I finally have what I seek, will it haunt me? Will the knowledge of my actions keep me up at night? I don’t have the answers, but I will soon enough.

His death haunts me.

Lies consume me.

Betrayal eats away at my heart, snaking deep until it finds comfort as it gnaws at my bones. I deserve it for doing nothing. But most of all, I just wish I could be like that damned set of monkeys that see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil. But it’s too late for that now.

I’ve seen and heard too much.

And soon, I will speak of it to those who will help me walk through the fires of hell to seek my revenge or die trying.

Evil is all around me. It is born in my house. It is nurtured by the men I have known all of my life. It runs through my veins like liquid fire. I am Liliya Markow. I am a mafia princess. My father is the Pakhan, the ruler, the boss of the Markow family. I’ve thrived off of death and shady dealings my entire life, and now I’m embracing it for my brother. Bratva men think that women are powerless, mere property to have at their sides and warm their beds.

They are wrong and I’m going to show them all.

Before my world shattered, I would never have imagined myself as I am now. I would never have imagined taking the steps I am taking now. But it will all be worth it in the end when the sweet taste of revenge coats my tongue.

Chapter Two – Liliya

“Only trust thyself, and another shall not betray thee.”

- 
William Penn

“She couldn’t have gotten very far. If we don’t find her, everything we’ve planned will blow up in our faces. The other families will…” He stopped, shaking his head, not wanting to give voice to what his future would hold if the other families learned what I knew.

I couldn’t help but notice the glint of fear in my father’s eyes, the tension in his body, the way the vein on his forehead pulsed as he mentioned the other families. Knowing that he fears the other families and what they might do to him makes my heart dance wildly. It’s a relief to know that somewhere out there, someone – or several someone’s – scare the hell out of him. He needs to be put in his place. He deserves as much.

Finding the other families won’t be that difficult. I’ve learned things. But walking into their brotherhood will be hard. Even though there has been a truce in place between the five families, it is shaky at best.

Lines are always crossed.

Some lines are straddled.

That alone gives me more hope than I had only minutes ago when they stepped out of the house. A smile works over my trembling lips as the thought of approaching the families and seeking their help. I can almost hear Malcolm’s voice echoing inside me, spurring me on in my pursuit of revenge.

I’m shaken from my thoughts, my head snapping in the direction of my father’s voice, brought back to the here and now, reminding me just how serious my situation has become.

“Hell, you know what they’re capable of when their power – their legacy – is on the line. That Ruslan Volsky will have our heads if he gets wind of our plans. Find her, Dane, and find her now! Time is of the essence. The next meeting of the bosses is only weeks away.”

The cold and angry voice of my father cut through the darkness of the night like a punch to the gut, raking my body with chills. My father, the man I had looked up to my entire life – all twenty-one years of it – had always been a kind man with a soft and understanding voice. The man standing with his fists clenched, ready for a fight, was nothing like my father. He had made me feel safe and loved, like nothing could ever cause me harm. But now I knew that was only a mask hiding his true identity. He was the devil. And the man standing with him wasn’t any better.

I cut my eyes back and forth between the two men, wondering how I had been such a fool. How had I not seen what had been happening around me? Was I that damn naïve to what my family was capable of? It was obvious there was more going on than even I had learned about since that night.

“I’ll find her boss,” The man with my father said, his voice gruff and laced with anger. “I’ll bring the princess home to you.”

Tears threatened to flow like a river unchecked as my eyes locked on the man I had stupidly given my heart to. A man that I had trusted with all that I was, just as I had trusted my father… before everything changed.

I wasn’t just foolish. I was ignorant, and completely unaware of who I was; of whom my father was. The fact that my father would so easily give me, his daughter, his own flesh and blood, to a cold-blooded killer was unthinkable, but not more unthinkable – more shocking – than what this man had done. He had murdered Malcolm, my brother, changing my whole world in the blink of an eye. We had been engaged for months, but I was only now seeing the man he really was.

My heart still ached.

The loss was… is palpable.

Everything had become so clear since that fateful moment. A shudder worked over my body, the fine hairs on the nape of my neck standing at attention as the lump in my throat strangled me, making it almost impossible to swallow, as the memory of what they had done assaulted me once again.

Poor Malcolm. It seems like forever ago now, even though it’s only been a few months since I watched in horror as my beloved brother’s life slipped away. No! That’s wrong. It didn’t slip away. It was stolen.

The way his shoulders had shook so violently, how his beautiful face was coated in crimson as he begged for his life. Then there was the strangled cry that escaped my lips as I watched Malcolm’s body slump to the ground, fear encompassing me as two sets of eyes filled with pure evil locked on me. If looks could kill, I’d surely have died alongside my brother. Bastards.

A normal person would have run. I had wanted to run, truth be told, but my body had other ideas. Even now, I couldn’t tell you if it was fear or shock that froze me in place. Maybe it was both. It doesn’t matter which one it was. It happened and there’s no way to turn back time. No way to change a single damn thing. The only thing that came of that night was a lesson I hold close to me now and forever – Trust No One.

Instead of running, I had fainted, leaving myself helpless and in the hands of my brother’s killers. Malcolm hadn’t deserved to die like that. No one deserved to die like that. I couldn’t wrap my head around what had taken place that night, and I still can’t fathom why a father would kill his only son, his heir. Then the answers began to come. Not all at once. That would be too easy. No, they added up over time, and now I knew enough. I hoped I did anyway.

The look on Malcolm’s face as Dane raised the gun, pointed it at his head, and fired will haunt me for the rest of my life. I hadn’t done anything to stop it. After everything I’ve learned over the past few months, I know there was nothing I could have done. I still pray for my brother’s forgiveness, though. It all still seems so unreal.

How does one make sense of something so heinous? It’s been months and all I can think about is finding out why my brother had to die. But I also wanted revenge.

For the last few months, I attempted to hide the fact that I remembered the details of that night. The family doctor that made visits at my father’s requests had said it was possible the shock of Malcolm’s death had caused me to block out that memory. He had said the details of what I saw may never surface. My father was happy as a lark about that. So I let him believe what he wanted as I forged ahead with my plan to run away.