Mafia Hitman's Daring Lover
Mafia Hitman’s Daring Lover
By Leslie North
The Karzhov Crime Family Series Book 2
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Dedications
I dedicate this book to you, my loyal readers. Thank you for all the lovely e-mails, reviews, and support. Without you, this wouldn't be possible.
I’d also like to say a special thank you to Leslie’s Lovelies who have had a huge role in making this book – you’re the best! THANK YOU for all your support:
Irina Temer
Kerry Deller
Jessy
JJ
Lynda Coker
Kim Schlack
MDHarrison
Robin Otoole
Tammi
Melody Campbell Goeken
Gwen Osborn
Betty Pehlman
Lorraine Guidotti
Joanne Wright
Janet Paul
Carolyn Redden
Tonni Brown
Patty Wells
Raenn
Kelly Johnson
Wanda Ross
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Table of Contents
Mafia Hitman’s Daring Lover
Dedications
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Grigori Tokarev stepped off the plane, tossing his black leather duffel bag over his shoulder as he followed the other passengers along the concourse of the Tampa International Airport. The airport was in the middle of a massive remodel, based upon the plastic draped walls, open ceilings, and sheetrock dust covering what was once a patterned carpet.
As he turned the corner, he was forced to duck his head to avoid hitting it on the low ceiling. At 6’6” tall, Grigori was used to adjusting based upon his height, but tonight he was tired, irritable, and just wanted to reach his destination.
The flight across the continent had taken far longer than it should have. First, the plane had experienced an electrical problem before even leaving Las Vegas. Then it had experienced a cooling issue before it could leave the Nashville airport. Instead of arriving in the early evening, it was now close to midnight, and he was beyond tired of his fellow passengers.
Several young families had been among those flying from Las Vegas to Tampa, and their small children had lost any ability to be cooperative hours ago. The last hour of the flight had been spent listening to the infants crying their outrage and the toddlers complaining loudly.
Grigori sighed in frustration as he waited for those in front of him to file through the small hallway amid the construction. He just wanted to sleep!
He glanced at his phone, pleased to see that Stefan had gotten his text message about the late arrival. He hoped to see the man waiting for him once they reached baggage claim, and was not disappointed.
Stefan was lounging against one of the columns nearest the doors, and Grigori headed in that direction after grabbing his checked duffel from the slowly moving carousel. His preference would have been to take both bags as carry-ons; however, his collection of carefully concealed and dismantled weapons and other accoutrements of his trade had made that too risky given the current security situation in place for commercial travel.
No words were spoken between the two men, simply a slight nod of greeting, and then Grigori followed Stefan from the building at a discreet distance, giving anyone who might have cared to watch the impression that he was still travelling alone.
Stefan led the way to the parking garage and over to the car, popping the trunk and waiting until Grigori had stowed his bags before starting the engine.
Grigori silently got into the car, and the two men travelled without speaking until they were out of the airport terminal and headed towards the Gandy Bridge.
Once they were on the freeway, Grigori relaxed and sighed. “God, it’s good to be off that plane!”
“Bad flight?” Stefan asked.
“Screaming babies and cranky parents. I hate commercial flights! At least coming trans-Atlantic I fly first class.”
Stefan chuckled. “You could have used Nikolai’s jet.”
Grigori shook his head. “No. Until I have a chance to figure out what’s going on here, the fewer people who know I’m here, the better.”
Stefan nodded. “I appreciate that. Your presence could easily be seen as a threat, and the last thing we need right now is an all-out bloody war.”
“Precisely. So, tell me about the intel you picked up.”
Stefan glanced at him before asking, “Sure you wouldn’t rather discuss this in the morning after you’ve had a good night’s sleep?”
Grigori shook his head. “No, I want to go hunting in the morning. I need to know what I’m looking for before that can happen. Tell me what you’ve found out.”
“Very well. Danil has been talking with Leonid.”
Grigori let that information sink in as he cursed softly under his breath. Leonid Sobolevsky was the current leader of the Ogalla organization, currently operating out of Miami, Florida—the same organization Konstantin Osin had once been a part of. The man had taken his wife and small daughter and fled into anonymity when the violence had threatened his family’s safety.
Leonid’s greed had caused him to align himself closely with the Colombian drug cartels, angering the other Bratva when they had to work directly through the Ogalla group for their merchandise.
A hit had been put out on Konstantin’s entire family, and only recently had it been deemed partially successful. He and his beloved wife, Karina, had been killed, but their daughter had lived. She was now safely ensconced in Las Vegas with Nikolai Tsarkso, the reigning leader of the Las Vegas/Southern California San Moreno Bratva, and a man with little patience for treachery within the American-Russian crime organizations.
Her uncle, Danil Yakimov, had been identified in Karina’s journals as a threat, and it was Grigori’s job to ferret out where that threat was coming from before taking the man out.
“So Leonid thinks to go up against Nikolai?”
Stefan nodded. “I can’t see any other reason he would jeopardize everything he has going here, unless Danil has him convinced he could become the Pakhan of both groups.”
“He has a death wish! No one takes on Nikolai without paying a severe price.” And I am just the man to arrange his imminent death. Grigori had been looking for an opportunity to rid the world of the man for over a year, and it seemed he was now being given the chance.
Stefan nodded again. “Rumor has it he has been bringing Colombian fighters stateside, preparing for a full-scale war in the near future.”
That’s not all he’s been moving between the States and South America. Grigori cursed once more. “Why haven’t the other East Coast groups taken him out?”
“No one can find him. Believe me, many have tried, but they never even get close to him.”<
br />
“I will find him. Now, tell me about the new group in St. Petersburg who thought to endear themselves to Leonid by eliminating Konstantin.”
“They have been trying to establish themselves as the strongest Bratva on the gulf side of Florida for years now. The rogue group is headed up by two brothers, Misha and Karl Ryndin—”
“Ryndin?!” Grigori questioned, shocked, as that information hadn’t reached him in Europe. The Ryndin brothers had operated inside East Germany for many years prior to the decline of communism and the destruction of the Berlin Wall. They had both been assumed dead after the wall came down, having stopped all communication and their interests having been dismantled by law enforcement.
“Yes. They’ve been in the States for a little over ten years now, but they are going by the names of Michael and Karl Ryker. Only a few people outside the organization know their true identity.”
“Well, if they are trying to align themselves with Leonid, it doesn’t surprise me that no one knows of their true identities. Leonid’s not exactly on speaking terms with the rest of our brothers.”
“That is definitely true. Not a week goes by that a new hit is not put out on the man and his organization. At this point in time, most want his entire organization taken out.”
Grigori let that thought sink in and then made a decision. “How do I find the Ryndin brothers?”
“You going to go after them in hopes of finding a link to Leonid?”
“Yes! They were not known for being men who thought too far ahead. They will naturally assume any retaliation for Konstantin’s death is taken out against the Ogalla group. It may take me some time, but they will become overconfident in their safety and then I will strike.”
“Well, my friend, I wish you well. I kind of figured you would want to take that approach, and I have secured you a room in Pinellas Park. That will put you about ten miles from the center of St. Petersburg—far enough away to remain anonymous, yet close enough to be right in the middle of their operation.
“They’re using a middleman in the area who has ties to a number of businesses that are being used as covers. All the information is in there,” Stefan commented, gesturing towards a manila envelope at Grigori’s feet. “If you need help or reinforcements, you know how to get a hold of me. I’ll only be another ten miles north.”
Stefan pulled the vehicle over in front of an upscale hotel, handing Grigori a keycard to a room on the fourth floor and an envelope containing maps of the area, contacts, and suppliers that were friendly to the organization, as well as the names and addresses of known leaders in the area. He then pulled a set of car keys from the console between the vehicles seats, handing them to Grigori and saying, “Black Humvee, back parking lot, next to the trash dumpster. It’s registered to a Greg Walker and matches the picture ID in that envelope.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“Of course. This situation needs to be taken care of.”
“It will be,” Grigori told him, putting the keys in the pocket of his leather jacket.
“Be safe, my friend.”
“Always. I’ll let you know when this is over. There may be an opportunity for a strong leader to step in and reorganize what’s left in the St. Petersburg organization once this over. Nikolai is a strong voice and will have no problem lending his support to such a suggestion.”
Stefan inclined his head. “Let’s see what’s left, and then we’ll talk. My father’s legacy is the only reason I was made Pakhan in this area to begin with. Many of the other northern leaders believe me too young to assume so much responsibility.”
“Too young? You may only be twenty-eight, but in this world, that is three lifetimes compared to those living outside the organization. No—you, my friend, have already proven you are a good leader.”
“Well, we’ll tackle that problem when it arises. Good luck hunting.”
Grigori nodded and exited the vehicle. He took his bags from the trunk after Stefan opened it, closing the lid and then rapping on it three times before heading towards the entrance to the hotel. He needed a good night’s sleep, and then he would be ready to start his mission—locating the Ryndin brothers and using their connection to the Ogalla organization to take out Leonid. Once and for all.
Chapter 2
Desiree Addams was tired, and as she drove into Pinellas Park, she mentally cursed the shift captain who had assigned her to the third shift for the fifth week in a row. Sure, she was the youngest officer on the Clearwater police force, but her assignments had been not only unorthodox, but the worst ones in the rotation.
It was not standard operating procedure to place new officers on third shift and in solo vehicles. She hadn’t been assigned a backup partner once and could only pray that she continued to have routine traffic stops until this month’s rotation was finished.
She’d already filed a formal complaint with the captain, but he’d assured her nothing could be done until the next rotation was put out. He did promise her a partner if she was so unlucky as to draw the third shift beach patrol once again. Yeah, and that will happen when it snows here.
For some reason, most of her coworkers had made it very clear they resented her presence on the force. She’d been able to find nothing that had prompted their response, other than the fact that they were reminded of what they’d lost each time she showed up for work. Not even the men who’d watched her grow up had lent their support.
Her father and brother had both been career police officers with the Clearwater police force, her father having headed up the criminal investigation division and her brother a special investigator in both drug and human trafficking. Both had been killed in the line of duty two years earlier. Her brother had been investigating something sinister and had been very troubled the weeks leading up to his death, but all of his notes and files had disappeared after a drugged-out prisoner went crazy in the office.
Her father had been killed during the same incident, and in the days and weeks after the funeral, Desi had been so grief stricken, she hadn’t realized that things weren’t progressing normally. The official report had listed their killers as members of a Russian mafia organization operating out of St. Petersburg, but after only three weeks of investigation, the case had been closed as unsolvable.
Desiree had been so upset, she’d immediately enrolled in the Police Academy and then secured a job as a patrol officer within the department. Her retail salesclerk job had been going nowhere, and at the age of twenty-two, she had willingly made the choice to join the police academy. She’d never even thought about becoming an officer of the law, and truthfully, her only motivation was finding the person, or persons, responsible for killing her father and brother.
She didn’t truly enjoy her job, but saw it as a means to an end. After she made sure those responsible were caught and justice was served, she wasn’t even sure she would continue on the force.
She had been with the force for almost six months at this point and had yet to gain the trust of the detectives in the criminal investigative division. Their support would give her access to the case records and evidence that had been collected. She yawned as she parked her car across the street from Molly’s Diner, and glanced at her phone. Five twenty in the fricking morning! God, I hate working third shift.
She took a quick glance across the street and set her phone alarm for seven thirty. Two hours of sleep would have to suffice for today. Thank goodness I have the next three days off. I’m going to have to get a few more hours of sleep than two or three at a time. She slumped down in the seat, another yawn testifying to her lack of sleep.
She’d discovered on her first unauthorized surveillance operation that the Pinellas Park patrol officers did a horrible job of moving about the city during the wee hours of the morning. She’d been amazed as she sat in her parked car, night after night, and had never seen even one patrol car. Under different circumstances, she might have made an anonymous call about the dereliction of duty, but for now, it was in
her favor and she wouldn’t complain one bit.
Pulling the blanket from the backseat, she snuggled it around herself, kicked off her shoes, and pulled her feet up and curled into a small ball of exhausted woman. At 5’2” tall, Desiree didn’t find the confined space of the driver’s seat uncomfortable at all, and most nights didn’t even bother to scoot the seat back. She closed her brown eyes, after ensuring the vehicle was locked up tight, and succumbed to her dreams.
*****
Grigori stepped out the back door of the hotel and took a quick glance inside his new Humvee. His stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since a hurried, dry sandwich in the airport terminal the day before. He glanced around, looking for some way to alleviate his hunger pains with haste.
He wouldn’t eat in the hotel’s restaurant, wanting to draw as little attention to himself as possible. The hotel had numerous secondary entrances, and he would use them as often as possible. He looked around the surrounding buildings and noticed the sign for Molly’s Diner only a few buildings down.
Heading in that direction, he glanced at his watch—7:20 a.m. He wondered if the diner would already be serving customers. He looked at the neighboring businesses, all of which were still locked up tight. Not exactly a good sign. As he approached the diner, he took notice of the surrounding businesses. A small hair salon, an insurance agency, and a martial arts school sat on the same side of the street as the diner. Across the street, a dry cleaner, a tattoo parlor, and a real estate office occupied the buildings.
As he drew even with the diner, he noticed an old man sitting on the concrete next to the light pole. From the look of his clothing and the black plastic trash bag sitting next to him, Grigori assumed the man was one of the many homeless that lived in the area year round. The relatively mild weather of Florida drew the homeless and those wanting to drop off the radar, and the beaches and parks provided plenty of places to spend their time.
His clothing consisted of dirty khaki pants, tattered tennis shoes, and a dark green army T-shirt, covered by a sleeveless leather jacket that had definitely seen better days. His head was covered by a blue bandana, and as Grigori got closer, he could see a small gold hoop earring gleaming in the lobe of his ear. He looks like an old pirate, or possibly an old biker.