7 New Plan
- DOMINIK -
After I watched the third delivery person trek through the house and up the stairs today with items for the room across from Ivan's—the room he is preparing for his 'pet'—I decided to make another visit to Theo's.
It's risky, but Ivan and Luka are both busy down at the club tonight entertaining some associates from out of town, so I won't be missed. I doubt Ivan would want me scaring Vanessa Ricca into never going to work again, and that's my new plan. I'm not sure exactly how I'm going to do it, but it's all I've got left.
If the mafia princess doesn't return to Theo's next weekend, then she won't end up tied and blindfolded in the back of one of our SUVs. That in turn means Ivan won't find out I'm the one who has been betraying him all this time, assuming Vanessa actually can read minds or something.
If I get caught plotting against the Brotherhood, not only will it be a slow and painful death, there also won't be anyone to help the women who are continually being transported without end. And no one else is going to do this job. No one else can.
Luka and I are the few people Ivan trusts wholly without any reservations. With me, it's because we grew up together. When my parents died, Ivan's home was my home. Those little mundane moments that lie between all the big ones are what string together a lifetime and cement the loyalties within it. And Ivan and I have been together for most of them.
Luka wasn't born into the Brotherhood like we were. He started out as a friend and became a brother later. It was the rebellious part of the Brotherhood that really lured him in first—the chance to do something so far removed from his wealthy, well-connected family and all their expectations. They were prepping him to go into politics, and they still haven't given up on that dream. They're putting him through law school now, which he somehow manages to do on top of everything else that's required of him.
Luka is my uncle's go-to person for all legal issues, because our faction has reinvented itself from how the Russian Bratva started. Rather than our high-ranking members being expected to do prison time, pride is now invested in outsmarting the law altogether.
At first, I considered approaching Luka about helping me. He doesn't like the trafficking business either. He's actually voiced his opinion to Ivan and my uncle about it—framed carefully within the context of legal risk, of course.
But even as close as Luka and I are, I can't bring myself to admit my disloyalty even to him. The guilt of my betrayal against Ivan is bone deep, and Luka takes loyalty just as seriously as any of us. It's too big of a risk to tell him if he wouldn't be onboard.
When I arrive at Theo's, it's a welcome break from the intrusive thoughts—the trafficking, the betrayal, the risk. It's all I ever think about—all the time. For years now.
So when the noise from the bar is loud enough that I can hear it from the parking lot, I let it carry the thoughts away. Vanessa Ricca. That's who I need to focus on. That's why I'm here.
The sea of bodies engulfs me the moment I walk in. Typically, a crowd like this would be a welcome sight. It makes camouflaging easy. But if Vanessa is here, I want her to see that I am, too. I want her to sense the threatening presence that I can slip on like a second skin.
Sure enough, I get a glimpse of her behind the bar. Instead of walking right up, I decide to hang back—make my looming presence a little creepier by finding a spot to watch her from. Eventually she'll see me between the shifting bodies, and I'll be pouring all of my dangerous, leave-now-and-never-come-back vibes into my expression when she does.
That's precisely where my brilliant plan ends, though. Almost as quickly as I've found a spot at one of the tall tables scattered strategically around the room, she emerges from behind the bar and heads for a table in the corner. Standing there is someone who has already taken up the terrifying stalker role for the night, and as good as I am, I'm not sure I can match it. His clearly isn't an act.
The older man who is somewhere in his fifties watches her approach, eyes flashing with a predatory glint that's not hard to decipher. It's one I'm very familiar with.
They interact briefly, and the entire time he's like a coiled serpent with his body language—rigidly poised for the strike and entirely focused on his meal. So much so that I straighten from where I'm leaning, wondering if she's going to need help avoiding a threat tonight rather than the one coming for her next weekend.
If Vanessa's fazed by the guy at all, she hides it well. She picks up his empty glass and returns to the bar. As she's walking away, his hungry eyes drop to her ass in that mini skirt, and a growl crawls up my throat. Probably because my focus for so long now has been keeping women out of the clutches of monsters like him.
It's not like I can blame him for looking. Vanessa Ricca has generous curves in all the right places. She's confident and beautiful. The guy with murderous eyes isn't the only one watching, but he's the only one who looks like he's fantasizing about something violent.
My jaw tics with anger—at Saul Ricca for not being more diligent in the protection of his daughter. At Vanessa for not being more careful when she's obviously a magnet for trouble. At Ivan for… everything. And at my own predicament, because I have a feeling I'm now going to be spending the night finding a place to dispose of the old man in the corner.
When Vanessa returns to his table with a new drink, he doesn't move a single muscle—not to take it, not to light a cigarette, not to shift his weight. Nothing. In fact, he hasn't moved a muscle or stopped staring at her since she left.
"Unbelievable," I mumble.
On her way back to the bar this time, her caramel eyes drift my way. The fear that was hidden or absent during her interaction with that snake finally shimmers to the surface when she sees me. ME. Not him. And I'm not even trying yet.
Instead of being relieved that my plan for scaring her tonight is now in motion, I'm annoyed. Is she blind? Does she not know very real danger when she sees it? And if that guy in the corner doesn't end up scaring her enough to not come back, then what can I possibly do that would?
I stalk up to the bar after her, plan officially discarded. Her lashes flutter nervously my way before she returns to the drink she's preparing.
"Cute guy is back, Taryn," she mumbles to her coworker.
"I'm here to talk to you," I tell her, emphasizing the last word.
She plasters on a fake smile. "Well, I'm helping someone."
I sigh with frustration, cutting a glare toward the guy she's helping instead.
Why the hell is she scared of me anyway? She can't know I'm with the Bratva. If she did, she wouldn't be back here again tonight. And Bratva secrets are the only secrets I have.
"It will just take a minute."
I'm not sure what I'm going to say exactly, because I can't mention Ivan. I can't mention the Brotherhood. If I do, it will definitely come back to bite me in the ass.
Vanessa will go run to her father or brother, and then it'll all be over. Once they make a threatening call to Ivan, it won't be hard for him to connect the dots. I'm the only one who would be here. I might be able to explain it away somehow, but once doubt like that is planted in Ivan's mind, there will be no uprooting it. It will only grow.
"I don't have a minute," she says on a distracted breath. "Sorry."
My phone buzzes with an incoming text. It's Ivan.
'I need you down here, man. They want to know about current inventory at the warehouse. I don't have numbers.'
Great. It seems like the stars themselves are against me tonight. I've been here for less than ten minutes.
'Be right there.'
Vanessa has taken the opportunity to move further down to where I'm not directly in front of her. I cut back through the bodies and into the crowd before shoving my way to her new location.
"How often does that guy in the corner come here?" I ask, advancing past the niceties and getting right to it. "You know you're his next victim right?"
"Who? Jimmy?" She scoffs. "He comes all the time. We're fine. He's just having a bad night or something."
I bristle with irritation, because if that's what she honestly thinks, she's delusional. Obviously I have nothing to worry about if Ivan does manage to grab her. She can't possibly have the gifts he claims. Even I can see that the old man over there is a murderer.
"You shouldn't be working here," I insist. "It's not safe."
Her brows furrow, lowering. "Why?"
"Because I know who you are. And if I know, other people are going to know. It's also not safe because of the psychopath in the corner plotting your death as we speak. I've been here ten minutes and even I can tell you attract trouble, princess."
Her initial look of surprise morphs into anger at the nickname, but for some reason she chooses not to voice it.
"Thanks," she says tightly. One word. That's all I get.
Another text buzzes from Ivan.
"Thanks?" I ask. "That's it?"
She glances back to the corner and then leans across the bar. "What are you, like a detective or something investigating Jimmy?"
The question surprises me, because I must still be holding onto this notion that Vanessa knows more than she's revealing. But she's just given me the perfect way of talking sense into her and persuading her to abandon this job.
"Yeah, that's right." I might sound too enthusiastic by the suggestion, but hopefully she doesn't notice. "And I'm telling you that you're a target. I'm going to make sure he leaves you alone tonight, but don't come back here to work, Vanessa. It's not safe."
She straightens and presses her lips together, thinking about what I've said.
"Do you understand?"
"I understand." But she doesn't look happy about it.
"So you're not going to continue working here after tonight?" I ask, needing to hear her say it.
She doesn't answer immediately. Her gaze drifts over the people around us who are chatting and laughing and completely oblivious to our conversation.
"I guess I don't have much of a choice," she mutters before finally looking at me again. "Do I?"
