Wicked Boss (Bratva Brothers 2)

TEN

Luka

Mikhail opens the front door, and I accompany him outside.

Mark is parked just on the opposite side of the gate, headlights on, beaming at the compound.

"We'll get rid of him," I say.

Anton is standing outside of the security booth, speaking with Mark on the driver's side of the black four-door truck.

Mark revs the engine. "I want to talk to Hannah!" he shouts. His window is rolled down and he wallops the side of his truck with his hand.

"She’d better be worth it," Mikhail mutters under his breath.

I can't hear Anton's response from across the yard, and I don't answer Mikhail. My sidearm is loaded and ready if I need to use it or threaten the bastard.

I stroll up ahead of Mikhail, standing on the opposite side of the metal gate. We're not opening the door to this low life. He doesn't get to come anywhere near Hannah or Bay.

And while I intended to show up at his office tomorrow, I may as well give him the leave her thefuck alone speech that I intended to do.

A smaller gate beside the booth requires a code to enter and exit the premises. I punch in the six-digit code and step outside.

Mikhail follows and yanks the gate shut.

Over my dead body, is Mark getting inside or anywhere near Hannah and my daughter.

"Do you think it's fine to go around and assault women?" I shout as I stomp closer toward the pickup, my strides long and fast as I approach the vehicle.

Mark thrusts the door open.

Does he think he has a shot in hell against me?

Anton steps aside, but he's armed and ready should the need arise. He's waiting for Mikhail or my order to subdue the man and bring him to his knees.

That would be easy.

But I'm not about doing things the easy way tonight.

Mark deserves to suffer for what he's done, for hurting Hannah.

I don't take kindly to abusers.

Mikhail is directly behind me. I can feel his presence without so much as looking over my shoulder.

He's letting me take the lead. Does he know why this means everything to me?

"I don't know what you're talking about." Mark plays dumb. It's probably not hard since he's an idiot, but that doesn't excuse what he did to Hannah or Bay. "Let me see my wife!"

He stumbles headfirst into me. Is he trying to fight me, because he has zero chance of winning, let alone getting in a decent shiner?

His breath wreaks of liquor. How the hell did he drive here and not kill himself?

I couldn't be that lucky.

I push him off and shove him up against his vehicle, my left hand gripping his shirt. He's not wearing a jacket and too drunk to notice that it's cold.

I'm fired up inside from him showing up and giving me the perfect punching bag.

"First of all, she's not your wife." Disgust fills me that he would even think to call her his wife like he takes pride and possession of her. She's not an object, and frankly, they're not married.

His words slur, but they're still somewhat comprehensible. "You must be Luka," Mark sneers at me.

A certain amount of pride fills me, the fact that he knows my name because of Hannah.

I let go of him. If he can't stand on his own, let his drunk ass hit the curb.

He wobbles for a moment and then straightens himself up.

I don't confirm my identity. It doesn't matter if he knows my name or not. What matters is that he leaves Hannah and Bay alone.

"Do you find enjoyment in threatening women?" I ask, pulling my gun from its holster and shoving the barrel up under his neck. "Do you like making Hannah feel like she can't leave? Do you honestly think that holding her hostage gives you power over her?"

His eyes are glassy, and he swats at my hands. Any sane man would cower with a cocked gun beneath their chin.

Mark isn't the least bit sane or sober. I'll credit his stupidity with being drunk and not realizing that he's fucking with the bratva.

He doesn't answer me. He opens his mouth, but he's rendered speechless or too drunk to form a coherent response. I'd like to think it's the former, but I suspect it's the alcohol raging through his system.

"You will leave Hannah alone. You're not to have any contact with her or her daughter. Is that clear?"

Mark huffs under his breath.

"What's that?" I shove the pistol farther up into his neck.

Mark swallows. "Crystal," he whispers, his voice high-pitched and squeaky.

Is he nervous?

Good. I want to make him quiver and piss himself. That's the nicest thing that I'd bestow on his sorry ass before shoving him back into his pickup.

Sweat glistens on his brow.

If the guy has a heart attack, I'm leaving him outside to die. It's the best thing I could do for Hannah.

"And that apartment that you've been residing in, Hannah's apartment," I say, emphasizing that it isn't his home. "You take your shit and get out. If you bother her or come anywhere near Bay, we will hunt you down and castrate you."

Mikhail comes to stand beside me. "Consider that the nicest thing we'd do to you," he adds.

"I want to hear it from Hannah," Mark says, although it comes out whinier and more pathetic than a threat.

I withdraw my gun from Mark's chin and point it at his crotch. "Your choice. Leave her alone, or I shoot off your dick. I'd be doing every woman in New York City a favor."

Mark holds up his hands, swaying a bit as he leans back against the pickup for support. "Fine. No girl is worth that amount of trouble."

I take a step back, only enough that Mark can climb back into his truck and get himself killed on the way home. A guy can dream, right?