Painted Scars (Perfectly Imperfect, #1)
Neva Altaj
Author’s note
Dear reader, there are a few Russian words mentioned in the book, so here are the translations and clarifications:
Malysh – малыш (little one) is used as an endearment in lieu of “baby”. The word is masculine, but can be used as gender neutral. There’s also a feminine version – малышка (malyshka), and that, too, can be used to address a (female) partner, but most prefer “malysh”.
Kukolka – kуколка (little doll) is a diminutive of "kukla," which means "doll".
Milaya – милая (dear, loved one) is used as an endearment in lieu of “darling or honey”
Piroshki – пирожки? (hand pies) are small pastries filled with finely chopped meat, vegetables or fruit and can be baked or fried.
A note regarding Russian surnames: Most married Russian women's last name is formed by adding an "-a" at the end of their husband's surname (ex. Petrov, Petrova). Russians living abroad may adjust to local rules and both husband and wife will have the same ending on their driver's license and other documents to avoid confusion (Roman Petrov and Nina Petrov). However, the wife would be still addressed as Nina Petrova by Russians, no matter what country they lived in.
Prologue
Beep. Beep.
Strong hospital smell. Looks like I lived.
I try opening my eyes. It doesn’t work. The anesthesia is probably just starting to wear off. At least there is no more pain. There are hushed voices coming from my left, but they are subdued, and even though they sound familiar, I can’t recognize them.
Beep. Beep.
“Can he hear us?”
“No. He’s heavily sedated.”
Beep.
“Will he live?”
“Yes. Unfortunately. The wounds on his chest were not that bad. They patched him up.”
“We can always try again. Pin it on the Italians again.”
“Too risky. People are loyal to the Pakhan. Anyone suspects me, and I’ll end up in a ditch.”
Beep.
“Well, there might be a silver lining. The shrapnel shattered his knee.”
“So?”
“Doctor said he won’t walk again. If someone more capable comes into the picture . . . people, no matter how loyal, will hardly stand behind a pakhan who’s in a wheelchair when presented with a better option.”
“Well, I guess we did well after all.”
There are two sets of steps leaving, and then a door closes.
Chapter 1
Three months later
There are never enough drugs.
I put the sheet filled with notes on the pile of papers on my desk and focus on the numbers on the laptop screen.
“Call Sergei.” I lean back in my wheelchair and look at Maxim, who is sitting on the other side of my desk. “I need him to arrange two additional shipments this month.”
“He already negotiated the quantities with Mendoza for the quarter. I’m not sure the Mexicans can double it on such short notice.”
“They will. Now, tell me what the fuck happened because I know that look well, and I know I
won’t like the answer.”
“Samuel Grey embezzled three million dollars. Our money.”
I sigh and shake my head. “Who is Samuel Grey, why did he have access to our money, and how
did he manage to do that?”
“Our real estate mediator. The money was meant for buying two more lots near the north
warehouse. Grey thought he could borrow our money for a week for some investment which ended up being a Ponzi scheme.”
How much of an idiot a person would have to be to steal from the Bratva? Sometimes I’m amazed by people’s stupidity.
“Can he pay it back?” I ask.
“No.”
“Kill him. And make an example out of him.”
“I had something else in mind. People . . . people are starting to talk, Roman. We need a
distraction, fast. I think Grey can provide that distraction.”
“Oh? And what have they been talking about?” I’ve known Maxim since he started working for my father two decades ago, as a foot soldier. The old pakhan never could determine a person’s potential.
Wasting a man as capable as Maxim by assigning him to basic fieldwork was one of many mistakes I corrected the moment I became pakhan twelve years ago. Right after I killed the bastard.
“You. Still being unmarried.”
That’s old news. “But that’s not all, is it? What else?” I narrow my eyes at Maxim.
He’s not looking at me, his gaze focused on something on the wall behind me. “There are rumors that you won’t be able to run the Bratva much longer and someone else will take your place. Someone more . . . physically able.”
“And do you share their opinion?”
“Do not insult me, Roman. You know I’ve always stood by you, and I’ll keep doing so. Even if I don’t think you’re the most capable pakhan the Bratva ever had. But you’ve been holed up here for three months. You haven’t been to any of our clubs to check on the operations like you did at least once a month before the explosion. And you haven’t been seen with a woman.”