He received that warning any time he ventured anywhere near Brooklyn, although he did go further in from time to time for personal reasons. Back when he was younger, before he could understand what the Bratva meant, a truce had been called between his father and Alberto Gallucci, head of the Gallucci Crime Family. The years before it had been wrought with tension, the animosity escalating to heights of which people hadn’t seen since the Valentine’s Day massacre.
Even Kaz had felt the unforgiving hand of what an escalating turf war could do to a city. Sometimes, as he lay awake at night, he could still feel the heat of the blast on his face.
Hear the sharp cries of alarm as the car that had been not too far in front of him had blown up into a cloud of black smoke, the ensuing fire raging for hours.
No, in that regard, Kaz had no interest in testing the boundaries set before him.
“Yeah,” Kaz said drifting back to the present. “I got it.”
Vasily hung up then, without a goodbye.
Tossing his phone on the passenger seat, Kaz gunned through traffic, just spotting the glowing blue lights through his tinted windshield that shone from the club’s exterior.
Sonder had been a pet project of Ruslan’s, something he’d worked on for the better part of a year before he had even thought to try and open it—but that was his brother. A perfectionist. He went over the details numerous times, working through any problems that might arise, and making sure he had a solution before he ever got started. Ruslan didn’t believe in failure.
There was already a line forming at the doors where Ruslan and Nathaniel stood like sentinels, ensuring that only those they deemed worthy stepped foot inside. Despite the late hour—or maybe because of it—the line stretched down the block.
As he came around the corner, eyes shifted to his car, some in amazement, some in envy, but he paid none any mind as he parked in the alley next to the club. Climbing out, he pocketed the key and headed around the side to the entrance. The thumping bass of the music playing inside echoed out to the street and alley. Kaz drummed his fingers against his thigh to the beat.
At the front of the club, he didn’t bother to get in the mile-long line. He walked straight to the doors where his brother and Nathaniel were standing.
Ruslan caught sight of Kaz and smiled, holding out a hand. Kaz took it, and his brother brought him in for a one-armed hug before releasing him just as quickly. He was the only person Kaz would allow to do that shit.
“Brat,” Kaz greeted.
“Brother,” Ruslan replied in English. “Did you finish out your business?”
“Mostly.”
“Then you deserve a drink.”
Kaz laughed. “The business wasn’t drink-worthy. But talking to Vasily, after, certainly was.”
Ruslan’s lips drew into a thin line at the mention of their father. His brother, more than anyone, understood just how exhausting it could be to even have a simple conversation with Vasily Markovic.
Between the two Markovic brothers, Ruslan took after their father more than Kaz did in appearance. Ruslan had a good forty pounds of muscle over Kaz’s lean, tall one-eighty-five. His brother would make the perfect linebacker, with wide shoulders and a chilling stare ready to silence anyone who looked at him the wrong way. At six-foot-six, Ruslan had three inches of height on Kaz. Ruslan sported their father’s squared jaw and thin lips, while Kaz had taken his mother’s sharp lines and fuller smirk.
Anyone who didn’t know Ruslan always took a step back when they first met him. He was as intimidating in stature as he was in behavior. But Kaz did know his brother, and he didn’t find him intimidating at all.
Ruslan put a hand on Kaz’s shoulder and squeezed. Then, he turned to Nathaniel.
“I will be back after I get my brother a drink,” Ruslan said.
Nathaniel didn’t look up from the tablet in his hands, which contained what looked to be names he was scrolling through. The man was always around. Wherever Ruslan went, Nathaniel was right around the corner. Kaz didn’t mind him all that much because he stayed out of his business, and Ruslan’s, for the most part.
“Sure, Rus,” Nathaniel replied.
Kaz gave Nathaniel a nod that was returned as he passed. The music instantly became louder as the entrance doors of the club opened under Ruslan’s push. Walking in behind his brother, Kaz took in the floor of the club. He noted the moving bodies going from the bar to the dance floor, and between the tables and booths.
The place was packed, but it wasn’t shocking. Ruslan had created a high-energy atmosphere with constant movement and total sensory pleasure with the music, lighting, and modern setup. The club scene wasn’t Kaz’s thing, but he could appreciate the effort and talent it took for his brother to pull something like this off.
Not to mention, make it a success.
“Looks full,” Kaz said, coming up to his brother’s side.
Ruslan shrugged, but pride radiated in the action. “Trying to keep it under fire code limit. We don’t need that problem.”
Kaz chuckled. “No, we certainly don’t.”
The brothers came up to a bar that stretched from one wall of the club all the way down to the other, the background made of mirrors that reflected the glistening bottles lined up there. Ruslan caught the gaze of one of the bartenders, and waved two fingers high.