Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)(59)

“Tell me where it is, now.”

She saw the light in his eyes, the need to be more than he was. Checkmate.

“Mishca already has it. You know he will never give it up, or even admit that he has it. The only way you can take it from him is by having leverage.”

Brahim tapped the bar top with his fist, his eyes following the glass as she brought it to her lips.

“We have nothing on the Russian. Are you offering yourself?”

“No, no. He would never go for that…” She trailed off meaningfully, waiting for the moment she saw the defeat in his eyes before continuing. “But if you took the girl, he would give you anything you asked for.”

“She is meaningless,” Brahim counted with a shake of his head. “They both said so.”

“Do you truly believe Mishca would have confessed that to you, or even to your brother? He wanted to keep you away from her, to continue to lay the blame on me. He’s lying to you all.”

“I thought as much.”

Naomi had to stifle the urge to roll her eyes. She doubted Brahim thought of anything remotely clever.

Taking out a slip of paper, she quickly scribbled an address on it. “She will be here later this evening. She’ll be alone since Mishca is expecting to meet me.”

Hopping down, Naomi smoothed the front of her dress. “If you have any men you can trust, get the job done. Imagine what they will say about you? No longer will Jetmir be the leader of the family, you’ll have your own notoriety.”

She left him there, watching her walk away.

Outside, Naomi signaled for a taxi, putting on a pair of opaque sunglasses. Her work was done. With suspicion off her for the time being, she could get a head start out of the country and be off the grid within twenty-four hours.

She smiled to herself.

Not only would she have her revenge on Mishca, but she would bring about mayhem that could never be subdued.





Brahim turned the paper over in his hands, memorizing the address before tossing it in the garbage on his way out. He might not have trusted Naomi, but he had to admit that her plan was ingenious.

The Russians would never expect it and he would finally have the respect he so rightfully deserved, but there was one thing he had to do. He had to tell Jetmir.

He wanted to share this with him, as long as it was known that it was his idea.

He and his right hand, Marco, drove back to the brownstone where Jetmir was. Brahim could hardly contain his excitement as he hurried inside, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. He ignored the laughter echoing behind him, knowing they wouldn’t be laughing for long.

Brahim was never under the impression that any of Jetmir’s men respected him. He wasn’t remembered for the work he had accomplished, but for the mistakes he had made over the years.

Out of thirteen assignments, only three of those were botched, but those three were worth far more.

The first, he was meant to intercept a shipment of guns from Sicily to London, but during the theft, communications were scrambled, leaving the only remaining survivor opportunity to escape with the guns and detailed descriptions of Brahim and his men.

Brahim didn’t think he had ever seen Jetmir so angry.

The next time was an assassination attempt on a rival arms dealer, resulting in one of the biggest bloodbaths that Albania had ever seen. Brahim still didn’t know how he had f*cked that one up.

He found Jetmir in a back room, a whore sitting on his lap, whispering in his ear.

Clearing his throat, Brahim looked to his brother, speaking so only he would hear. “Can I talk to you? It’s urgent.”

Brahim had always had an uncanny knack for reading facial expressions, even if it where there for a second. It was also one thing he wished he didn’t notice. While it came in handy for discussing business arrangements, it was burden when he saw the resignation on his brother’s face.

He had only ever wanted to make his brother proud of him, since no one else seemed to think highly of him. Even their father used to turn his nose down at him in favor of Jetmir.

Staring at him for a while, Jetmir finally pushed the girl off of him, rising to his feet.

Brahim followed Jetmir out into the hallway, ignoring the scantily clad whores that rushed past them, sneaking glances at Jetmir. While he was a menace to some, Jetmir was a ladies’ man, even with his scar.

“What is it, Brahim?”

“The Russians have been playing us, they’ve had the diamond all along. If we strike now, we—”

“How do you know this?”

He didn’t want to give away his source, knowing what Jetmir would think if he told him. “It is a hunch, but I know—”

“Leave it.”

Brahim scoffed, trying for another tactic. “But—”

“I said, leave it,” Jetmir snapped, not bothering to keep his voice down, silencing the chatter in the other rooms, making Brahim to flush in embarrassment. “We have an agreement, the Russians and I, they will deliver as promised.”

“What agreement?” Brahim asked frowning. “I do not recall you speaking with them.”

“I handled it alone.”

Brahim felt betrayal at his words. His brother had made a promise to him to never leave him out of the business deals, knowing that Brahim wanted to learn from him when the time came for him to lead the family business.