The portly man rushed to obey, his hands shaking with fear of what Kaz might do next. It wasn’t often that a man broke your nose, and then gave you something to clean up the blood.
“Here’s how this works. Abram here is going to escort you to your office, your home, or to wherever the fuck it is you keep your money. You hand him over what you owe, plus twenty percent for wasting my time, and I won’t cut off your fingers. Understood?”
Marcus nodded, still holding the handkerchief to his face.
“Good.”
Kaz glanced back to Abram, who looked far too amused by it all and gestured with a tilt of his head for the man to follow him toward the exit. Neither had to worry about Marcus trying to make a run for it, though it would have been entertaining to watch.
“See this done. I have a meeting I’m overdue for.”
Abram nodded once. “Right. Take it easy, Cap.”
Kaz frowned as he watched the man head back toward Marcus, whistling beneath his breath. He had always hated that nickname, ‘Cap,’ but Abram insisted on calling him that—his idea of showing him respect since he was a brigadier—or Captain—in the Markovic Bratva. And no matter how often Kaz asked—or demanded, depending on who you asked—he still did it.
Putting Marcus out of his mind for the time being, Kaz headed out into the night, breathing in the cold air as a wind blew over the vacant parking lot. Across the way sat his baby, the one thing that never failed to make him smile. It had been a present to himself after he’d received his stars.
A matte black, fully customized Porsche Carrera GT.
It was ostentatious to say the least, and when his father had seen it for the first time, he hadn’t approved, but he didn’t bother trying to tell Kaz to get rid of it—he knew the request would go unheeded.
Hitting the unlock button on the fob he carried, Kaz slid inside. He slid the key inside the ignition and started her up. The low hum of the engine was like music to his ears as he pulled out of the lot, heading toward his brother’s nightclub in Coney Island.
It was rare that Kaz visited him there, especially when Sonder was open for business. He wasn’t usually one for the nightlife scene, but whatever his older brother asked of him, he usually provided.
He owed him that much …
Kaz had only been driving for a handful of minutes when his phone rang. He took one hand off the wheel, dug his phone out, and read the name that flashed across the screen. He thought of not answering and letting it go to voicemail, but Vasily Markovic was not one to be kept waiting. And even if he did ignore the call, Vasily would just call back until he answered.
Sliding his finger across the screen, he connected the call. “Kaz.”
“What have I told you about this?” His father’s voice came in loud on the stereo of his car. “Your mother named you Kazimir, act like it.”
This wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion, and probably wouldn’t be the last. Then again, there was very little about him that his father didn’t take issue with.
“Have you seen to the new storage?”
That was code for: 'Did you make Marcus regret not paying on time?’ “It’s under control.”
“Good. And the shipment from Dulles?”
“Secured.”
That was the way these things worked. It was one thing to say that Kaz was a shit son, but no one could ever say that he took his position in the Bratva lightly. Not anymore. This was what he lived and breathed, the only thing he was sure of lately.
Truthfully, the Bratva was the only thing he and Vasily had in common.
His earliest memories were of Vasily’s role in the Bratva. From the time when he was his brother, Gavrill’s, sovetnik, or right hand, to when he became the acting Pakhan, the boss, after Gavrill’s death. Sometimes, Kaz thought Vasily was a better boss than he was a father—and there was a strong chance that Vasily felt the same way about him.
To say that they didn’t get along outside of their mutual responsibility to the Bratva was an understatement.
“You’re meeting with Ruslan soon, no?” Vasily asked.
Kaz heard it, even if he didn’t want to, the derision in his father’s tone when he said his brother’s name. For those that didn’t know the man, they might have missed it, but Kaz had his whole life to study him. He could practically see the slight curl to his lip that Kaz was sure would be there if they were in the same room together.
But Kaz never called him out on it, he bit his tongue.
He bit his tongue about a lot of things.
“I am.”
Vasily was quiet for a moment. “Be careful out there. Stay mindful of where the lines lay.”