Envy (Criminal Sins 1)

It holds Catalina.

I’ve never liked receiving help from others before, not if I couldn’t repay them ten times over. I built an empire nearly by myself and now it feels like I’m back at square one...

But I will have my revenge, whether or not this Russian mobster decides to assist me.

After a long stretch of considerate silence, Sergei speaks. “I do not know who has your package, and I do not know where they went, but I will apologize for letting them through. I did not know.”

The coward. That’s a cop-out if I ever heard one. He knows I’m weak right now, but he’s also not confident that I won’t ever regain my power, so he’s hedging his bets. He’s not helping me, but he’s not hurting my enemies either.

I’ll make him pay for his indecisiveness... eventually. But first, I have a fiancée to find and avenge.

“Is that all?” Sergei asks, dismissing me.

I can’t hold back my sneer, but I can hold back any other vitriol. There’s no use in burning this bridge yet. Plus, I’m on his territory, and too much disrespect could mean a bullet in the back of my head before I can even step out of the door. If I’m ever going to get Catalina back, I’m going to have to play by the coward’s rules. I fucking hate it... but it will all be worth it once I have her again.

“It is, if that’s all you have to say,” I reply, digging my nails into my palms.

“I have nothing else to add,” Sergei nods. He looks at his armed guards and they move towards me. I don’t let them show me out. I’m at the elevator and out of the door before anyone can say another word.

“Who’s there?”

I don’t appreciate the theatrics. It’s cold and dark and the alleyway smells like garbage.

After my fiasco of a meeting with Sergei Nettov, I got into contact with Luna Rivera. She didn’t seem surprised that the Bratva boss wasn’t co-operative, but she gave me another option. A younger Russian leader who was slowly making his mark on the criminal underworld in France, but his meeting place probably wouldn’t be as luxurious as Sergei’s...

What an understatement.

“It’s Angel Montoya,” I growl. Steam rises from my mouth as the suspicious eyes behind the open slot consider my arrival.

“Who are you here to see?” they ask.

“Fyodor fucking Yashin!” I roar.

“Shhh!” the eyes demand. “Why didn’t you say so?”

The eye slot whooshes shut and I wait impatiently as the thick metal door is unlocked.

“Come on in—hey!” I hardly wait for the invitation before I push my way in.

“Where’s Yashin?” I ask, studying the modest but highly stylized man cave I’ve stepped into. Sizzling neon signs line the red brick walls, casting faint shadows over the poker tables and liquor cabinets.

“He’ll be right with ya!” says the skinny young man who let me in. He wears a newsboy cap along with a black, buttoned up cardigan, and his eyes dart around the empty room like he’s surprised we’re the only ones here.

“Where the hell did he go?” the errand boy whispers to himself.

As if on cue, a door at the far end of the room crashes open and an intertwined couple stumbles through. The girl giggles as the man pins her against the nearest wall. “You’ve been a naughty girl, Marina...” he teases, nibbling on the skimpily-clad young woman’s neck.

I clear my throat loud enough for both of them to hear.

Marina yelps in surprise, but the man just rolls his eyes. “Sorry, baby,” he whispers, turning back to the curvaceous bombshell. “I’ve got work to do.”

He nibbles on her ear then sends her back through the doorway with a slap on the ass. She giggles the whole way out.

“Yashin, I presume?” I growl, furious at the reminder of what I’m missing out on. I’m coming for you Cat, I swear it... if only these imbeciles would get their heads out of their asses for long enough to send me in the right direction.

“Please, call me Fyo,” the broad-shouldered, athletic looking young man casually insists. He reaches out in greeting and I hesitantly shake his hand.

“Aleksey, get our guest a drink!” he shouts over my shoulder. I can already hear the errand boy shuffling towards the liquor cabinet when I put up my palm in rejection.