The Russian Fighter (Mafia Men #1)

Revenge Is Sweet

Chapter 4

Edited

"What did you score?"

"Twelve wallets. Five Rolex. And a couple pearls from the ladies at the bar I friended, drinking over the limit cocktails," Nina added, placing the said pearls on the kitchen table.

"This should amount to fifteen thousand," Papa said, inspecting the Rolex I snatched from the Russian with the molten eyes and a persona to match. "In addition with the two thousand from the wallets, this was our biggest hit yet."

Inside I was elated, but outside I couldn't push away the guilt. It always came after every grift, gnawing at me like sharks. We were thieves, but for positive reasons. And yet, I wasn't suppose to feel like this.

At least that's what I tell myself.

"Those Russians are still a threat," Levin issued. "They've seen us in action; well, Nina and Korina. Mikhail's hit was thankfully in a sea of dancing, drunken animals. However, they have money. More than we suspected."

"Which means they'll probably track us down," I added.

"Uncle Pavel's friend can put in a word to draw them in a different direction," Nina tried to sound more confident than we felt. "We kept ourselves under the radar. The longest I fold in them finding us is a month."

"We'd need more time," Mama argued. "The debt still has a lot more to be compensated for. We can't have them breathing down our necks; they'll involve the police."

"Maybe we can lure them elsewhere," Levin had his thinking face on. "Kora, did the man see your face?"

I thought about it.

"Not exactly. The booth was dark. I wasn't able to catch his face either. Only his eyes."

His eyes stood out the most.

"Nina? Mikhail?" They both shook heads. "Good. We can use this as leverage for ourselves."

"How?" I wondered what he had up his sleeves.

"I can create a anonymous track record with the names you used at the club. Forge documents to assume you are real people. Only it won't be your faces. I can plagiarize photos, mark someone with no family. Nothing to tie us to them; but build a presentable life background that will convince the brothers."

"What happens if they find out the information is wrong?"

Levin smirked. "They won't. I already erased everything on our files, just enough that no one will become suspicious. But also more than enough to throw caution to the wind. This is my expertise. It'll ensure a trace for them to follow if they decide to investigate us on their own. A little work of fraud and identity theft, and it won't lead them to us; I promise."

"We should celebrate then," Dedushka voted, bringing out a bottle of Samogon: Russian moonshine. "Toast."

"Papa!" Mama stole the bottle from him. "Absolutely not. We have four underage teenagers. I will not have them getting drunk, and puking all over the carpet."

He scoffed at her. "You drink before you were teenager. Why not them? They work hard. Let loose, moya lyubov'." My love.

"Don't start with me," she groaned. "I had my reasons. You weren't exactly father of the year."

I caught a flash of hurt cross Dedushka's features, only to disappear as vastly as it started. "Neither were you daughter of the year. I remember a lot of times you snuck out with your husband."