Loving The Russian Mafia Boss

Chapter 1: Uchastvuyet (Involved)

Picture of Dakota's flower tattoo above
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I think I've made a mistake. I am currently in an airport waiting for my luggage to appear on a large conveyer belt. I flew into New York from Arizona to work as a personal mechanic. I know, a strange job for a twenty-three year old woman.

After my high school years, I studied at a mechanic school in hopes of getting my own business. What everyone forgot to tell me was how hard it was to do exactly that. I didn't come from money, but a loving middle class family.

After graduating from my mechanic school, I was employed by a local luxury car mechanic, where I worked for about a year. Within a few months on the job, I had a regular customer, a Russian man who looked as sketchy as they come. His name was Jaromir and he told me he was staying in the United States with some friends. He was a fairly care-free man, dark haired and young.

The first few times he brought his luxury cars like Lincoln, Cadillac, Tesla, and Ferrari, he simply asked for regular tune-ups. As time passed, I was given more and more cars with bullets lodged into the engine and doors (which, mind you, were extremely expensive fixes).

"What are you and your friends doing, Jaro?" I asked, wiping down the exterior of the car like all the employees were required to do when a job was finished. Jaro and I were on a first name basis and as he approached me, he patted my shoulder. "Target practice." I turned to him and gave him a look.

"Target practice? With luxury cars? If you want to play target practice, maybe you should invest in a Saturn or a Pontiac. I don't understand how you have the money to pay for all these fixes." I continued to wipe down the hood of the car as Jaro whispered into my ear, "Don't ask questions Daki." I chuckled at his nickname.

As I finished the wipe down of the car, I wiped the sweat off my brow and pushed the slick strands of brown hair out of my face. "Did you already pay up front?" Jaro nodded, leaning in to kiss me in the cheek. "You're too kind, Jaro."

I watched Jaro climb into the SUV and listened to the engine roar to life. Jaro rolled down the window and smiled. "Don't you shoot up that new engine Jaromir!" Jaro laughed, and drove the SUV out of the lot and I watched him go.

About a month later, Jaro again returned to the shop with a 2016 Cadillac, riddled with bullet holes. "I told you Jaro, get yourself a cheap car to shoot up. You're killin' me man." I sighed, looking over the vehicle. Jaro hopped out of the luxury car and laughed with me.

"You need to take me with you the next time you do this 'target practice'." I added. This simple sentence directly involved me with the infamous Russian Mafia.

So here I am, at JFK International airport in New York City, with Jaromir on speed dial. After the mention of my willing involvement, Jaromir introduced me to the world of the Russian Mafia: drugs, firearms, and prostitution rings. He told me there was a mechanic job at the main office on the east side of the United States. I was told I would be extremely well paid with lodging in the mansion of the boss.

"Do you think this is right for me?" I asked Jaro in the lobby of the Phoenix airport. He drove me here, and with help from the Mafia, I was given first-class seats on the airplane. "You don't ask too many questions, you are perfect. Do not worry Daki. You call me on cell phone if you need help." Jaro said happily, his Russian accent thick. I couldn't help but give him a hug before I left, and he smiled at me as I headed towards the security check.

Jaro had texted me that there was a man waiting for me at the front of the airport, my name written on a paper. Once my luggage was it hand, I headed towards what I had thought to be the front. I began thanking my lucky stars when I saw my name, Dakota Bray, typed in large letters on a piece of paper.