Ruthless Rival: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Bratva Billionaires Series) by K.C. Crowne

Author:K.C. Crowne [Crowne, K.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Andrei

Riga, Latvia.

The city is built on a river, a mosaic of the old and the new. The centuries old cobblestone streets are lined with modern lamp posts, the exterior walls of buildings painted in an array of muted beiges and pastels. On the surface, it’s a quaint riverside city. A perfect vacation spot for those who don’t mind the year-round cold.

But I know the truth. Just below the surface, the capital city of Latvia has a swarming, thriving criminal underbelly. It’s simply a matter of knowing where to look.

“They’re late,” Samuil grumbles. He cracks his knuckles, then his neck, then his back, the loud popping similar to squeezing a fistful of bubble wrap. It’s one of his biggest tells when he’s nervous. If there’s a joint he can crack, he will.

“Have a little patience,” I remind him as I fiddle with my lighter. “They’ll be here.”

“What if it’s some kind of trap?”

The possibility this meeting might be a set-up did dawn on me, but we’re not in a good enough position to let this deal fall through. Without a reliable supplier in Latvia, we’d lose half of our income. Unlike the Antonovs, I can’t afford to just give up territory and business. We Nicolaevich are strong and mighty, but even I recognize we’re only fledglings. There’s no sense in taking flight before our wings are fully grown.

A silver sedan with its windows tinted black approaches. It stops roughly a block away, flashing the headlights once.

I put my lighter away. “This is our guy. Stay alert.”

Samuil nods. “You got it.”

This isn’t an ideal location for a meeting. I don’t like that it’s out in the open, though I suspect Barda did this on purpose. There’s nothing I hate more than feeling out of my element, totally at the mercy of another man’s whim. At least the evening is plenty dark so our rendezvous can occur under the cover of night. I have every intention of making negotiations fast and painless.

And then I can go home and see Sandra.

Barda is anything but discrete, but I knew that the second I laid eyes on him. Where I instruct my brothers to dress modestly to avoid detection, Barda doesn’t subscribe to the same line of thinking. Everything about him screams the stereotypical image of a gangster you’d see in the movies or on TV. Several thick chains around his stubby neck, gaudy bejeweled rings on his sausage fingers, and even though it’s close to midnight, he’s wearing a pair of sunglasses.

Talk about insufferable.

“Nicolaevich, my friend!” he greets much too loudly. “Welcome to Riga.”

“I’m not here for pleasantries, Barda. Let’s get down to business.”

He puts his hands on his hips and whistles. “Damn, you Russians really are a bunch of cold pricks, huh? And don’t get me wrong, I mean that as a compliment.”

“How much product can you ship per week?” I ask, hoping to steamroll over his need to make small talk.

“Fifteen kilos.”

I grit my teeth. “That’s it? Arajs guaranteed me thirty.”

“Well, Arajs is behind bars looking at life in prison,” Barda says with a chuckle.

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