Goodnight, Sinners (Sinner's Empire Book 3) Page 2

  She smiled at him. “If you keep being so nice to me, I’ll start to think you like me.”

  He shouted in pain, then grit his teeth, as she peeled the bandage back and set to work with her scalpel, making the hole large enough that she could manoeuvre inside the wound.

  It took her seconds to find the bleeder and a few more seconds to clamp it. By the time she’d finished, her patient had slipped from consciousness, likely a result of blood loss and pain.

  She reached across his prone body and picked up the gun which had landed next to him on the now bloody carpet. She lifted it in one hand and pointed it toward the hallway, her other hand on his neck, keeping tabs on the steady rhythmic beat of his heart.

  Chapter Two

  Two weeks later

  Jozef took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second, pushing his emotions into a tidy box to set aside for the foreseeable future. He wasn’t ready for this day. Hadn’t been ready a week ago when he made arrangements and definitely wasn’t ready now. What he wanted didn’t matter. His life had been one of duty up to this point, and his duties had only increased with the death of his uncle.

  Jozef strode around the limousine. Before he could open Shaun’s door, she opened it herself. He thrust a hand toward her, squeezing her slim fingers tighter than normal in his annoyance. He’d told her to stay put until he had a moment to assess their surroundings. Shaun’s thoughts had been so scattered since the night of the attack, he doubted she remembered what he told her.

  He didn’t blame her. His thoughts might have been scattered as well over the past few weeks, except he’d had to show fortitude as he managed damage control in his club, took over the entire Koba organization and took his place as a top Vor within the Bratva.

  In the two weeks following Krystoff’s death, Jozef had done more for his reputation, holdings and standing within the Bratva, than he’d done in the past several years. Everything hinged on the death of his uncle.

  He involuntarily squeezed Shaun’s fingers too hard again, and she looked at him. There was no censure in her eyes, only shock and grief. The same look that had been there since that night in their apartment when everything had gone to hell. The look hadn’t abated and Jozef didn’t have time to deal with it.

  His fiancé was traumatized once more, and he didn’t have time to be there for her. The situation made him want to howl at the unfairness, but he had to hold his shit together. Not only were people depending on him, but a loss of control at this crucial point would be very dangerous.

  The Bratva would replace him in a heartbeat if they thought he couldn’t manage the Koba organization, Prague, and the surrounding territories.

  “Are you okay?” Shaun whispered, her gaze roving over his face and down his body. “You look great.”

  For a split second there was a sparkle to her golden eyes. It released the tight knot in his chest. This was one reason he loved Shaun. She was intuitive, knew what to say, and could look past her own trauma to help others.

  Jozef gave her a grim smile and tilted his head toward her. He released her hand so he could sign, I would love to say the same, but truthfully, I despise that colour on you. You are too beautiful to wear black. You should be draped in colour.

  Her lips tilted up. Not quite a smile, but the closest thing she’d managed in two weeks. She signed back, that’s the sweetest insult I’ve ever received.

  Jozef chuckled and gathered her against his chest, kissing her lips. He held her tightly, holding her head to his, her chest to his, her hips to his. He loved feeling her body against his. It grounded him while chaos surrounded them.

  She was wearing black heels, a slim fitting black dress and a knee-length black coat. She was bundled for the cool December weather, but looked sophisticated and beautiful. Her heels made her almost the same height as Jozef.

  He stepped away from her and linked their hands, guiding Shaun forward. Havel fell into step behind them, while the rest of Jozef’s men followed. Havel had talked to Shaun in the vehicle about what to expect. Jozef wasn’t worried, Shaun was the epitome of grace and poise. She did well under pressure, despite her panic attacks, which had returned.

  “Shaun, Jozef.” Fatima joined them from a separate escort.

  The night of the attack, Terek had made the life-saving decision to hustle her into her panic room rather than try to sneak her out of the building. As a result, Fatima hadn’t seen even a moment’s action. Jozef had given the man a sizeable bonus for saving the life of his mother-in-law.

  Fatima was dressed in black as well, her somber golden eyes searching Jozef’s face. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but something in her expression softened and she gave him a weak smile.

  Fatima took Shaun’s other hand.

  Jozef followed the path through the cemetery until he reached his family plot. The Koba mausoleum was in a secluded part of the cemetery, surrounded by trees. The grass was cut short around the large stone, white-washed building, and there were flowers in the holders by the door.

  Most of those invited to attend had already arrived. Jozef nodded at Klaus, an old friend to both Krystoff and Jozef. His gaze was unyielding, angry. He might understand the transfer of power and how it came about, but he wasn’t happy with the situation. Jozef would have to schedule a meeting.

  Jozef’s gaze followed the line of men, his gaze meeting Alexei Ivanov’s. Jozef schooled his features so as not to give away his surprise at seeing a senior member of the Russian Bratva at his uncle’s funeral. Of course, Krystoff had been connected, and so now was Jozef, but the Bratva rarely traveled into unsettled situations.

  Standing next to Alexei was Yuri Antonovich, gatekeeper to the Bratva. The man acted as both a Vory and a secretary. He was cold-blooded and brutal. He would kill his own mother if it meant getting ahead. If he made Jozef’s accession within the Bratva difficult, Jozef could have a rocky few years ahead of him.

  Yuri’s steady gaze met Jozef’s and, after a prolonged moment where neither man looked away, Yuri finally nodded his head. Jozef returned the nod. Yuri turned to his man and said something. The two were standing a short distance away. Jozef couldn’t hear them, but he would bet his newly acquired fortune Yuri was asking his man to arrange a meeting.

  Havel pulled the door of the mausoleum open for the immediate family to pass through. The rest of the mourners would remain outside until the family had finished.

  Jozef stopped for a moment to pay his respects to his parents, whose names were etched onto two marble plaques and set in the wall: Analise Koba and Gregor Koba.

  Shaun squeezed his arm and stood quietly beside him, her gaze on the beautifully carved marble.

  Jozef moved past his parents’ plaques to stand next to his uncle’s urn. It was large, almost the size of one of his aunt’s great vases, made of white marble and inlaid with gold. It was resting on top of a white stone pedestal and would remain until after the ceremony when they would place it in the wall with the plaque affixed afterward.

  The service was short and standard, without fanfare. Though top mob bosses often had lavish funerals with many mourners, it wasn’t in Krystoff’s nature to seek the extra attention. He had been a reserved man.

  Without Aunt Dasha, Leeza or Saskia in attendance, it hadn’t seemed right to give Krystoff more than a basic ceremony. Jozef hadn’t wanted to plan anything for the man he’d killed, but he’d had to do something. Show his respect.

  It wasn’t uncommon for the mantle of a mafia family to pass down to the heir through bloodshed. It didn’t make taking over an organization from someone Jozef loved any easier.

  He’d had no luck in locating any of his female family members. He had to admit that they were craftier than he’d given them credit for. His job had always been to protect them; he hadn’t spent enough time with them as individuals to see their strengths.

  He believed, given reports from the hospital, that Leeza had rescued her mother before fleeing the city. It hammered one more nail in her coff
in. Had Leeza been willing to simply disappear, Jozef might have let her go. Told the Bratva she’d been quietly executed and buried in a forest somewhere. Now that he was certain she was aiding the woman responsible for the downfall of the Koba organization, Jozef would have no choice but to put her down. Swiftly and without mercy.

  It grieved him that the cousins he’d grown up with, that he’d spent a lifetime protecting, were now his targets, but he would do what was necessary. He would do his duty.

  He had no plans to kill Saskia, but he needed her located and brought back into the fold. She was a loose cannon on the outside. She was highly intelligent, but she was also erratic and unpredictable.

  Shaun slid her arm through his and looked at him expectantly.

  Jozef blinked and glanced around. The service had finished, and the mausoleum was opened to the other mourners.

  Jozef accepted the well wishes of those gathered as they filed through. Shaun spoke soft words of condolences, while Jozef shook hands. Finally, once everyone left, Jozef took a moment to say one last goodbye to the man who had been a father to him. He allowed himself to feel everything he’d been holding in for two weeks. The grief was nearly overwhelming.

  Shaun clasped his hand tightly as he blinked back tears. Together they turned and left the cemetery, following the procession back to the mansion for a brief reception.

  Dasha waited until the cemetery was empty. Jozef’s men were stationed all over the grounds in anticipation of either her or the girls showing up. Dasha wasn’t stupid enough to actually attend her husband’s funeral, but she couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

  She waited until evening fell, then wound her way through the trees until she had the Koba mausoleum in her line of sight.

  It was a risk. Jozef might still be on the lookout for her. She didn’t care. She would rather court death than leave without one last word with her husband. She rushed down the hill and through the doors of the mausoleum, slamming them shut behind her.

  Dasha walked slowly to the plaque on the wall that had her husband’s name etched into it. She touched it with her fingertips, tracing each beloved letter. It seemed impossible that two weeks ago he was living, breathing, making love to her. Now he was ash.

  She banged her fist on the plaque, wishing she’d thought to bring a chisel or something to pry it off the wall. She wanted Krystoff’s ashes. They belonged to her, not to the cold, dark box that held them hostage.

  She turned her back to the wall, pressing herself against the cold marble before sliding to the ground in a heap. Her arm twinged painfully in its sling beneath her jacket.

  For the first time since learning of Krystoff’s death, she allowed the tears to fall. They rained freely down her face, dripping onto her chest. She didn’t know how long she sat and cried for, but it surprised her.

  She didn’t cry. Ever.

  She’d spent years hating this man until the day she realized she didn’t. She’d fallen in love with her mobster husband, but Dasha hadn’t realized quite how much she loved him and depended on him until now. Her life had been a series of events that were out of her control. In order to regain that control, she’d learned the art of manipulation, which often meant putting her feelings on the back burner as she fought her way to the top.

  She’d loved Jozef’s parents.

  Gregor Koba had been just like Krystoff. Big, bearded, jovial, but also chillingly brutal. Annalise Koba had been beautiful. Like Jozef, she’d been tall, slim, graceful. And like the rest of the family, she had also been brutal.

  Dasha hadn’t known if they were plotting against the Koba patriarch, but she wasn’t willing to wait and find out. She’d preemptively done what her husband hadn’t been able to do. She’d eliminated the potential threat to their organization.

  All for nothing. The organization had fallen into the hands of the son, despite all of Dasha’s machinations. She should’ve eliminated the child when she’d had the chance, but when she stood over him, gripping the knife that should have ended his life, she’d been unable to bring herself to do more than destroy his voice. He’d retaliated by pulling the knife out and stabbing the man who’d been holding him, killing her accomplice.

  “You should have been stronger,” she sobbed to her dead husband. “You should have taken care of the boy for me. You were weak, and you allowed your heart to get in the way of what you knew you had to do. Now we’re all dead.”

  Chapter Three

  Shaun hated everything about the mansion. It had never been her favourite place, but today, the heavy opulence made her want to scream. Then again, everything made her want to scream. She was barely keeping her shit together, and the only reason she appeared to be calm was because she knew Jozef needed her to project a united front for the guests.

  She understood the importance of the occasion, the funeral and the reception. They were living in a volatile and dangerous situation. Until Jozef brought his uncle’s organization completely under his control, the threat of enemies could and would haunt them.

  When he’d told her of the importance of the funeral, Shaun had decided she could pull her shit together until they got home. She could do it for Jozef. He was the one who’d experienced the loss of his family, not her. Yet, it hit her like a ton of bricks and settled on her shoulders as a colossal weight.

  Jozef had moved them into the Koba estate the day following Krystoff’s death. She’d balked, but he’d insisted it was the only thing they could do. He had to project a front of complete control. He was expected to take the seat of power along with all the Koba assets.

  He’d stripped the master suite and had their bed brought in. It turned Shaun’s stomach that she was sleeping in the same room where Krystoff and Dasha had slept only days earlier. Nightmares plagued Shaun, keeping her awake at night and turning her into a zombie during the day.

  It wasn’t like when she worked an extra-long shift at the hospital. She understood long hours. She hated them, but she was prepared to put them in when she was working.

  But the nightmares… they sapped her strength and stole her ability to concentrate. She wanted to be strong, to engage, to be there for Jozef when he needed her most.

  Instead, she watched helplessly as her topsy-turvy life became even more unrecognizable. She might have broken down completely, if not for Jozef’s constant vigilance. Despite having an enormous weight dropped on him, he spent nearly every waking moment with Shaun, his beautiful eyes concerned as they searched her for answers. He kept her close at all times, including during business meetings. She sat with him in Krystoff’s study while a procession of men came and went, reporting, begging for a job, begging for their lives.

  It was a rare glimpse into Jozef’s mafia dealings, and it both fascinated and frightened her. At first, she’d listen closely, waiting for Jozef’s contacts to leave before asking Jozef the questions that piled up in her head. She’d always imagined mafia to be so sinister and had seen a lot to confirm these thoughts over the past few years. Yet, the inner day-to-day workings were very much like a business and Jozef was proving himself, at least in her eyes, to be a master businessman.

  After a few days, the conversations became repetitive. She’d stopped listening, instead choosing to pick up a book and curl into a chair by the fire.

  When he finished his meetings, Jozef would take her hand and lead her to the private dining room to eat. She hadn’t known that room existed until Jozef showed her. She’d always eaten with the family in the formal dining room.

  The smaller room was set off the kitchen, making it easier for the staff to bring their meals. It had become Jozef’s habit to eat off Shaun’s plate before allowing her to eat. He said until they found his aunt, there was still a risk for Shaun.

  Shaun couldn’t move without a contingent of armed men shadowing her steps. After Dasha’s attack in the restaurant, Shaun appreciated the vigilance. She couldn’t close her eyes without reliving those moments, both in the bathroom and in the car, when Karl, her b
odyguard, had died. Then, later, the apartment, the bodies, her inability to save them all, knowing that her fiancé had been responsible for killing some of them.

  Shaun went daily to visit her mother, who’d decided not to move to the mansion. Shaun wanted her mother close but understood why Fatima would want her own space. As much as she loved her daughter, she was an independent woman.

  Fatima had taken Karl’s death particularly badly. She’d insisted on handling all funeral arrangements, which Jozef had been happy to give up, after handing off a list of guests who would want to attend the wake. It was a pitifully short list; Karl’s sister, a few friends and Jozef’s men. Karl was well-liked, but his entire life had revolved around the Koba family. He had lived and breathed their security until the day he died in the line of duty.

  The painful memory of Karl’s small but warm funeral brought fresh tears to Shaun’s eyes. She hadn’t known him well, but he’d been kind to her and she respected him.

  “You okay?”

  Shaun looked over as Havel stopped next to her.

  Havel had warmed to her considerably after she’d patched his wound on the floor of the Guard Dog Securities office. He’d woken up minutes before Jozef had come back to collect Shaun. Havel had taken the gun from her and taken over protecting both of them. Neither had told Jozef about those few moments when Havel had been unconscious. Shaun didn’t think Jozef would blame his second-in-command, but it seemed important to Havel to be in control of himself at all times.

  After Jozef had come back, he’d asked her to go with him to the club where more of his men were injured. Jozef shadowed her every step as she worked on those in need. Two more of Jozef’s men had been shot, one wound serious, the other superficial. She worked on the seriously wounded man first, then moved on to the wounded who weren’t Jozef’s men. Jozef stood over her with a gun trained on the men as she worked to patch them up.