Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)(55)

For a while, he leaned against the bathroom counter, staring at it, but the longer he held it, the more resolute about the decision he was about to make.

It was time to end this, once and for all.

He placed the ring on the bedside table, kissing the top of Lauren’s head as he left. Luka was down the hall, flipping the top of his lighter.

“Something you need, Boss?”

“Whatever she needs, get her. If she wakes up, call me immediately.”

Nodding, Luka got that calculating gleam in his eye. “You sure you don’t want me with you?”

“I can handle it.”





“How is she?” Vlad asked as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves, tossing Mishca another pair.

“I don’t know,” Mishca replied honestly. “She hasn’t said much. Once we’re finished here, we’re going to meet with Jetmir.”

Vlad shot him a curious glance, but didn’t question him.

It took a few hours and a couple of calls to get rid of any evidence connecting Lauren to anything at the club. Once the job was done—and double checked by Mishca—Mishca sent his men home.

“Let’s go.”

Mishca and Vlad drove some ways out of town, to a cemetery that was closed to the public at night. Jetmir was waiting, his men with guns at the ready.

He raised a brow when Mishca exited the car, his other brow joining the first as Mishca went to the trunk, opening it.

He gestured at the body. “You sent your hound to my door.”

Gritting his teeth, Jetmir’s hands flexed. “And this is what? A challenge?”

“No, this ends. You want your property, I want you out of New York. Give me three days to either get the diamond for you, or I’ll hand Naomi over myself.”

Jetmir laughed coldly, shaking his head. “This was my suggestion from the beginning. Why accept now?”

Because then, Mishca wasn’t willing to hand Naomi over knowing what the Albanians had planned for her. She might have been a conniving bitch, but no one deserved that fate. But now that Lauren was caught up in this? He would happily hand her over without a single regret.

“My reasoning is none of your concern. Do you agree to this? You don’t send your men with any messages and you do not go near anyone I care about. Understood?”

Jetmir looked like he wanted to argue, but he had the good sense to nod, extending his hand. He might have been relentless in his pursuit of what he’d lost, but he was not blind enough to see that this Russian was a man of his word.

“Same place.” Jetmir barked an order to his men and they came over, removing the body from the trunk.

Mishca didn’t complain, even if they thought to use him as blackmail, there was nothing on the body to connect it with him or Lauren.

Now that he was done with him, Mishca had one more stop to make.





As he stepped into the hotel room, Naomi reached for him, sliding he arms around his shoulders, pressing her breasts against him, her lips to the underside of his jaw.

“I’m glad you came,” she whispered.

Mishca pulled her arms down, setting her away, making a frown appear on her lips.

He stepped past her, seating himself in the armchair away from the window. Before he sat, however, he made a show of withdrawing the gun from the waistband of his trousers, resting it on his knee.

A corner of Naomi’s mouth tipped up as she untied the sashes of her robe, letting the two sides fall open to reveal pale skin, complemented by blue lace.

“Is this the game you want to play?” She asked sweetly as she disposed of the robe, dropping down to her knees to crawl towards him, the sway of her hips almost hypnotizing.

A lesser man might have been tempted by her performance, but Mishca was not an average man.

When she was kneeling between his legs, her hands sliding up his inner thighs, he reached for her then, his fingers closing around her delicate wrists, squeezing enough that she knew he was serious. She gasped in delighted joy for a moment—there were times during their lengthy affair that things got rough between them—but she realized quickly enough that this wasn’t anything like that.

He let her go, just long enough to place the gun on the table beside him, drawing her up to her feet as he stood.

“Choose carefully what you say next,” he said slowly, without an ounce of humor in his voice. “Where. Is. The. Diamond?”

She wrenched free from his hold—only because he let her—now glaring at him as she rubbed her wrists. “I told you. I don’t have it.”

“Naomi—”

“Don’t use that tone with me!” She snapped, sneering, “Is that how you get your way with her? Does she do your bidding like a well-trained whore? Or is it you that does the mewling?” She asked, her entire demeanor changing as she fingered a button on the front of his coat. “Do you have to hide your true nature? Would she run away from the real man lurking behind the surface?”

Naomi tsked. “Don’t forget, the nice ones never last long in this life, Mishca. I’m sure you can remember that.”

She smiled coyly, knowing she had hit her mark when he almost imperceptibly flinched, but she also knew she had made a grave mistake when his eyes crackled like blue fire.

Mishca felt a coldness wash over him, the same coldness he had learned to rid himself of to keep from losing himself to this life completely. But right now, he forgot all of his renowned self-control.