Page 3 of Kidnapped Bratva Toy
As I unlocked my door and sat behind the wheel, I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror.
“Quite the catch, aren’t you?”
My grandmother’s voice rang in my ears, one of her parting gifts before she finally let old age have her.
Crooning my voice to sound like her, I wagged my finger at myself. “You work like that, and no man will want you, Billie. You need to be more of a lady.”
Yeah, about that.
Chapter 2 - Pietor
Babysitting. It was glorified babysitting what I was doing, and I fucking hated it. Still, I wasn’t fucking dumb. I knew that Pavel and his cronies needed to be looked after, the landscape of the family’s tenuious relationships with others monitored. Still, It was boring as hell.
It also seemed pretty quiet, all things considered. Pavel had thoroughly run off with his tail between his legs, and the Irish assholes who’d supported him in Parker’s kidnapping had gone dark. I knew they were far from done, though. Which was, of course, why I had the Unholy Trinity looking into them.
“We’ll keep tabs on them. They’re going to try that car bullshit again, so I’m upgrading the crew’s listening gear.”
“That going to be expensive?” I asked Ivan.
“Yeah. Deal with it.”
“It’s not my money. Go for it.”
Hopefully, the improved resources would make an actual difference. Those bastards needed to be re-taught a lesson. I didn’t want to see another uprising bubble up under Lev’s nose—or Sergey’s, for that matter. My cousins ruled this town, the proud Vadim Bratva and I wasn’t about to let that change.
I looked at the clock. It wasn’t quite noon yet, and damn, I wanted a beer. I’d been up nearly all night trying to get all the information we had straight so I could actually catalog it for Lev. The usual system of “I’ll just remember” wasn’t going to cut it anymore, especially not with him consumed with fucking Parker every chance he got.
Standing up from the desk in the study, I headed for the door, very okay with passing out.
Ring, ring, ring.
“Fucking hell.” I reached for my cell, fishing it out of my pocket as it incessantly buzzed. “What.”
“Mr. Vadim, hello. This is Reuben Fisher, the manager of Delirium.”
I stopped in my tracks. Why the fuck was our club manager calling me. How did he have my number? Lev, you fucker, you did this.
“Reuben. Why are you calling me?” I bit out, talking through clenched teeth. I just wanted to sleep, for Christ’s sake.
“Apologises, Mr. Vadim. We…we have a bit of a problem. The club…” He sucked in a breath that I could even hear over the phone, and it took everything not to snap at him again, “is being sued.”
My stomach dropped. “Sued? Are you serious?”
“I wouldn’t joke about this, I assure you. Could you,…or someone, come down to the club? I have the paperwork right here in front of me.”
Sighing hard, I gave up any hope that I might get any sleep soon and left the study, heading toward the garage.
“Yeah. I’m on it.”
I hung up. Apparently, I was driving across town because our fucking nightclub was being sued. Delirium indeed.
***
The drive across town was quiet enough, with little traffic at just past twelve o’clock. I parked around the back of Delirium, using the employee entrance. The building was a long, dark hallway back here, and I followed the light shining from Reuben’s office.
He’d been managing the club since its creation, and the guy was trustworthy. He was fully aware of how Delirium was used as a front for a decent portion of the Vadim money flow. It was also a fantastic place to look for up-and-coming talent who could join the family.
As I shoved open the door, I didn’t bother with pleasantries. I walked right up to Reuben’s desk in the cramped, tile-ceiling office and sat in one of the chairs.