Chapter 2

Raisa

Raisa was tired. The breakfast and lunch shift had been brutal today and thankfully, she was about to be done. The college student they’d hired to act as night manager was due in about half an hour. After she arrived, Raisa could go home and get off her feet. She looked up when the bell over the door rang, only to freeze when she saw the three men entering the diner. Gregori Volkov was the ruthless boss of the local Russian Syndicate. He’d risen through the ranks of the Bratva until he’d grown too ruthless and unstable, even for them. Since then, he’d established his own Syndicate with men as evil as he was.

With him, as always, was his right-hand man, Nestor Morozov. Where Gregori was short and fat with a receding hairline and dressed like a reject from an eighties porn movie, Nestor was the opposite. The man was six feet tall and looked like a reject from the Mr. Universe bodybuilder competition. Even his muscles had muscles. He tied his long black hair back in a ponytail. Where Kris Lawson had looked dangerous and sexy, Nestor just looked dangerous.

With the two of them was Gregori’s cousin Vladimir, known as Bad Vlad. The younger man was skinny and pale. Dressed like a goth with chains and metal all over his dark clothes, he lined his eyes with black eyeliner and wore black lipstick, which Raisa thought was a strange thing for a man to do.

Gregori looked at her like a wolf taking in its prey just before the chase. The way his eyes roved up and down her body made her skin crawl. He looked and acted like he was seeing her naked and it made Raisa want to take a long, hot shower just to get the filth of his look off her skin. “Where’s your worthless brother, my flower?”

His voice was worse than his perusal of her. She felt violated by his tone and the use of a private name for her. “Stephan, can you come out here, please?” she yelled. There was a grunt from the kitchen, and her brother walked through the swinging door and stopped when he saw the men in front of him. “Gregori, why are you here?”

The man stepped up to him and walked around him to come closer to Raisa, and she backed up until she was in the corner between the counter and the wall. Trapped, with no way to move away from the gangster. “I’ve come to get my money, Stephan.”

“You know I don’t have it yet. I called you yesterday.”

“Yes, I know, but it is still due. “I can’t let you slide on your payment, otherwise everyone will think they can slide and I’ll appear weak, and I can’t have that. Can I?” said Gregori as he reached out and stroked her face, causing her to flinch.”

Raisa was confused. “What money? What are you talking about?”

Gregori smiled. “You didn’t tell your sweet sister about the money you owed me, Stephan?”

Raisa looked at the frightened look on her brother’s face. “This has nothing to do with her, Gregori. It’s between you and me.”

The Syndicate leader shook his head. “That isn’t how this works, and you know it. If you owe me, your entire family owes me. Since it is just you and sweet Raisa, then she owes me as well. You borrowed ten thousand dollars from me; where is my payment?”

“I told you I don’t have it yet. I need more time.”

“And I’ve told you payment is due. If I don’t have my money by the end of the week, then I’ll have to get it in other ways.” He licked his lips and put a finger on Raisa’s lips. “However, I am not a heartless man. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll forgive fifty dollars for every day your sister spends at my home.”

Raisa shoved the mobster away from her and rounded the counter. “That will never happen. We will get you your money.”

Gregori’s eyes narrowed. “My Flower, the sooner you understand I get what I want, the better. Until you are willing to help your brother pay off my debt, I’ll be charging him one thousand dollars a day in interest. I wouldn’t wait too long to come to me, or else I’ll have no choice but to hurt him.”

The mob boss nodded to his goon, and Nestor walked up to her brother and punched him in the kidney three times, leaving her brother on the ground in pain. “That’s for not having my money. If I have to come back, or if you don’t come see me by the end of the week, next time will be worse.” He walked over to her and patted her on her rear with a smile. “When you come, be prepared to stay, sweet Raisa, because once I get a taste, I won’t be letting you go.”

She spat at him, and he slapped her across the face. “Just for that, it will only be twenty dollars off per day, and I’ll make sure your stay is painful.”

Gregori snapped his fingers, and Vlad opened the door. Nestor kicked her brother on the way past him and smiled over at her. “See you soon, kitten.”

Then the three were gone. Raisa kneeled down to help her brother up. “What the hell, Stephan? How could you borrow money from them?”

Her brother straightened up and moved to a chair. “What was I supposed to do, Raisa? You remember when the flat top went out, and we needed to get a new one? I had to get the money to buy that and the bank wouldn’t give us a loan. It was ask Gregori or close the diner.”

Raisa sighed. “What type of loan did you try to get, Stephan? Did you offer collateral?”

Her brother shook his head. “I don’t have any collateral.”

“We have the diner. You could have gotten an equity loan using the diner as collateral and not put us in this position.”

Again, he shook his head. “Then I would have had to get you involved. I was trying to keep you from worrying.”

She laughed, but not in a good way. “Instead, you get me pawed and smacked by the Russian Syndicate boss, who wants me to sleep with him to pay the debt. I’m much better off, thanks.”

“Don’t be like that. I’ll try to figure something out. Maybe we could still get the equity loan.”

She shook her head. “It will take longer than a week to do that, and do you think he is really going to wait longer without making me pay?”

“Then what are we going to do?”

She hung her head. “I don’t know, Stephan, but I’m going home. You made this mess, you figure it out. Before he comes back for me.”

******

Kris locked up the shop after the last of his employees left for the day. He had a manager because there were times he had to be gone for Blackguard assignments and he didn’t want to close the shop then. He had built a niche for himself as the place a guy could go to get the perfect gift to get himself out of the doghouse with his lady.

Today alone, Kris and his team had to create 12 forget-me-not birthday bouquets for clueless guys who missed their woman’s birthday, three anniversary-overlooked gift baskets with chocolate-covered strawberries, champagne and massage oils.

Then there was the guy who came in just before they closed and asked for him because he’d told his wife of one year that she was acting just like her mother. That one had been a challenge. He’d put together a spa basket complete with a gift certificate to the hot springs spa just outside the city, a selection of bath oils and bombs, a soothing Celtic music CD, a coupon book printed up for her husband to do foot massages, back massages, head massages and flash cards on how to do them. Along with the aromatherapy massage oils, to help with those. It probably wouldn’t be enough, but at least Kris tried to help.

He often found it funny that these men came to him for help to get out of the doghouse. After all, he didn’t have a wife or girlfriend.

Occasionally he had a one-night stand with a woman he picked up at a party or club, but mostly he just went home and fantasized about the woman in the apartment next door. The one girl he wouldn’t let himself even ask out. Raisa Felfan. She deserved someone as filled with goodness as she was. Not the florist that walked in the shadows and dealt death to the worst villains on earth for his government.

No, he’d just go home and break open a bottle of top shelf whiskey like always and drink himself to oblivion. Or he’d step out onto his balcony and work out, pushing his muscles as far as he could until exhaustion sent him into sleep.

Once he was sure he was alone, Kris did his end of the night routine and opened all the hidden weapons safes around the shop. After pulling out each weapon from the safes, Kris emptied them and ensured that they were cleaned, oiled, and in perfect working order. He was under no illusion that his secret life might spill over into his daily life, and so he was prepared for every contingency. Kris opened the panic room and oiled the door hinges so they would open quickly and quietly, if needed. He saved the day’s security feeds to the cloud and reset them for the next 24 hours. Then he pulled out his electronic detector and checked for listening or recording devices.

Once sure that everything was normal, he closed everything up and exited out the back where his Kawasaki 1200 Vulcan motorcycle waited. It was one of three vehicles he maintained in his everyday life. There was the bike, which was great for speed and maneuverability, but not so great for protection. Then there was his matte black Dodge Viper, fast with a bit more protection in the form of a bullet resistant polymer skin. Finally, there was his bug out vehicle, an armor plated Land Rover with a high water kit. It would go practically anywhere and keep the occupants safe.

Most days, unless the weather was nasty, he took the bike and even had an extra helmet in case he invited someone to come with him. He’d yet to use the extra helmet but like the boy scouts, a Special Boat Unit commander’s motto was “be prepared,” so he was. He started up the bike and raced through traffic to his sanctuary. Or maybe it was his prison, since he was all alone there with nothing but his memories for company.

He pulled into the garage and sprinted up the six flights of stairs because it was healthier than using the elevator. That’s what he told himself, but in truth there was less chance of getting caught unaware if he was being hunted. At his apartment door, he placed one hand on the tactical knife he kept in the small of his back; the sheath sewn into the back of his jeans. With the other, he checked the telltale piece of monofilament he connected to the bottom of the door to know if someone had been in his apartment. Finding it intact, he removed the end from the door and then opened his apartment and stepped inside.

Kris quickly laid out a frozen Bertolli pasta meal. He didn’t feel like cooking tonight. He needed to work out to change his mood. For some reason today, the thought of sweet Raisa and not being able to tell her how he felt about her left him in need of the endorphins that would come from a nice punishing workout. He slipped out of his jeans and work shirt, slipping into a pair of SEAL team khaki shorts and a sleeveless tan t-shirt with his SBU logo and unit number on it.