In Pede

Chapter 3

Nikolai

I tried to keep my anger in check as I stood in my office looking at my little American step brother, Hayden. If it wasn't for the fact that he was my brother, I would've fired him. Killing him would've been my choice but Father would be very pissed if I did.

My Father, The Boss, was the head of the Russian Syndicate and I was to be the next in line to take the throne. The Throne. That's what we called the Mafia 'Royal Line'. My Father was both feared and respected all over the Mafia syndicates. Nobody dared to go against him.

"I'm sorry but it wasn't my fault. It was one of your men. They told me that they didn't think that she would live," Hayden said meekly as if he was 12 years old.

I glared at him and he flinched at the anger that I was sure was writ large upon my face. I had planned out the details of the accident that took place three weeks ago so carefully and had spoon fed him but the little asshole screwed that up as well and now, I would have to face Father's anger.

"You stupid imbecile! You can't do one Goddamn job right. I all but planned every little detail out and here you stand before me like a Goddamn 12 year old not even owning up to your mistake," I roared. My hand itched towards my gun but I closed my eyes and tried to keep my trigger finger in check.

"You, are going to go to Father and accept your fucking mistake and receive your punishment, otherwise I swear to God, I'll blow your kneecap out. Now, get the hell out of my sight."

Hayden scurried away with his tail tucked between his legs. I sat on my chair and pinched my temples. I plucked the picture of Eva Miller off my desk. She was beautiful. There was no denying it with her auburn hair and those sparkling light brown eyes. It was almost too bad that I would have to kill her now that she was awake and might remember all that happened that day.

Goddamn it. I needed a glass of whiskey for this shit.

My cellphone rang.

"Father," I said, without looking at the caller Id. He was the only one who had this number, anyway.

"You screwed up. You and your little brother can't blow a plane up. You left that girl alive and now you know what's going to happen if the Irish reach her first," My Father shouted. The Irish Mob were our rivals and were transporting drugs through that plane. In order to stop that and killing around 30 of the Irish, my Father decided to blow the plane up, costing the Irish around 5 million US dollars. The Irish could not get to the girl before us. They might ask her questions about Hayden. Nobody knows about him since he's the bastard child of one of my Father's various indiscretions. Well, as much as I wouldn't mind feeding him to the wolves, we can't do that.
"Yes, I'm well aware of what will happen if the Irish get to her first," I sneered into the phone.
"Good. Then you won't screw up the second time," my Father threatened before hanging up on me.
Where is that damn whiskey?