Chapter One:
"Lana!" Sergei Pavlov's thunderous voice echoed throughout the empty club as the petite female strolled up towards his table. He wasn't too happy with her late arrival. "Khorosho, chto poyavlyalsya.(Nice of you to show up.)" The brunette rolled her eyes and merely plopped down into the chair to the right of the burly, balding man.
The other four men sitting around the circular table eyed the young woman with obvious discontent. Lana Chekov was the only woman deemed worthy to be apart of Sergei's cirlce. Though the others didn't really approve.
Lana's face was emotionless. She was unaffected by the looks she received-she was used to them by now. Being the only woman around men earned her these sort of looks, though they never crossed a certain line.
"Da, vzyali vy dostatochno dolgo , chtoby pokazatʹ.(Yeah, took you long enough to show up.)" Came the obnoxious snarl from Alexi Dalenov, or as Lana liked to refer to him as: Sergei's ass-kisser. Her light brown eyes slowly drifted over to the top heavy, muscular blonde man. Her face remained emotionless as fire and ice clashed and fought over dominance.
"Govorit muzhchina , kotoryy nikogda ne mozhet zakonchitʹ vse, chto on nachinayetsya.(Say's the man who can never finish anything he starts.)" Fire won. Lana watched Alexi's face turn red from anger and watched as the short-tempered Russian man pounded his fist against the wooden table.
Alexi opened his mouth ready to retaliate and give the little bitch a piece of his mind. No one ever disrespected him, no one. "Alexi!" Sergei's voice stopped the younger man before he even began to speak. Everyone's eyes turned towards the boss. "That's enough!" Sergei's thick Russian accent cut through the tension between the two youngest members on the table.
"No more fighting with my protezhe (protege)." The older man turned his attention to Lana."I need you to do a job for me." The young woman's perfectly manicured eyebrow lifted as she stared up at the man who-on occasion- was her boss. "Who?" Was all she asked before being handed a sealed manila envelope. "Vasiliy." Sergei spat with disgust. "The bastard has been informing the cops of our operations." He stood. His chair scraping against the tile floor making three of the four men surrounding the table flinch slightly. His drooping eyes bore into her own intense ones. "Kill him."
Lana stood. "I'll have him by tonight." She didn't spare Sergei or his drones another look as she walked out of the strip club, manila envelope in hand.
"Do I even want to know what you're doing with an AK-47?" Lana didn't bother looking up as she continued to clean the different rifle parts she had set in front of her on the coffee table. "It's not an AK-47 Anya." She said quietly, intently focused on the high powered rifle pieces in her hands.
Anya Kalenkov was Lana's best friend and current roommate. The two went back as far as when they were younger-around the age of five or so. Both of them had been born back in Russia. Anya in Moscow and Lana in St. Petersburg. But they both had one thing that connected them; their fathers. Both their father's had worked for Sergei, both extremely proud men who died for the mob; for Sergei.
After their fathers' deaths their mothers' moved together to Hawaii, they were ten year's old. They've been in Honolulu ever since then.
Anya rolled her bright blue eyes. She didn't approve of Lana's choices. She didn't like her involvement with the mob, but she knew better than to meddle in with the petite girl's business. "Do I even want to know what it is?" Anya sighed, eying the gun wearily. She plopped down on the lazy boy chair to the right of Lana. Lana didn't even look at the raven haired girl as she began to assemble the rifle. "It's a Remington M-40, sniper rifle." Lana mumbled, completely entranced in her work.
Anya sighed. She knew this had something to do with Sergei Pavlov and as always, she thought it best not to ask. "So, when will you be back?" Lana shrugged and peeped through the scope on the rifle, making sure it worked. "It shouldn't take too long."
Anya nodded not needing anymore information than what she already had. She didn't want to know what Sergei was making Lana do this time, it was better if she didn't know, as Lana always said.
"Well, I'm going to go watch my future husband while you're gone." Anya smiled as she reached for the remote. Lana turned to her friend then and smirked. "You're affliction with the Chapman's is dangerous you know that?" She laughed as Anya shrugged. "You're the one doing these odd jobs for the mob."
It was Lana's turn to shrug. "Not even the cops have caught on to me, what makes you so sure they can?" She smirked at her best friend's flabbergasted look and quickly changed the subject. "I'd hate to see how you'd be if you ever did meet Duane Lee." She picked up a case and set the rifle gently inside before slinging it over her shoulders.
Anya's face twisted into a silly, love-struck look. "He's a cutie." Lana rolled her eyes. "It's a miracle you haven't begun to stalk him yet." The light eyed girl shrugged her shoulders. "How can I? The only way I wouldn't look like a stalker would be if I had to bail you out of jail, but you won't go to jail for me." The petite brunette laughed. "Not for you or anyone else babe." Anya stuck out her tongue as she watched her friend's retreating form walk out the door.
Lana sighed as she drove down to Kaneohe, down to where Vasiliy lived. She had no qualms about killing him, that was what she did. She was the one they called when they needed one of their own gone. She was a ghost; neither one of them or one of their enemies. She was just there to pick them out one by one until they all hired her to take them down one by one.
They were slime, all of them. They destroyed her father's life, now she was going to destroy them. She'd let them destroy themselves and she'd watch it happen happily from the sidelines. She didn't let Anya go anywhere with her, at least not after Sergei had called her in. She had no part in this world; her involvement had ended the day her father died. Lana's though had only begun.
She glanced at the rosary hanging from the rear view mirror. Her father would've been proud to call her his daughter. She really did carry his blood. Thankfully her father had been a smart, tough man; he had raised her like the other man raised their son's; their nasledniki (heirs). And for that she was thankful.
She turned and drove the Jeep Sahara up the hill just a few yards from Vasiliy's house. It was a desolate area. All the houses were at least twelve miles apart, minimum. No one would ever know she was up there.
Lana stepped out of the car once she reached the top of the hill and slung the rifle bag over her shoulder. She was in perfect view of Vasiliy's house. She smirked and took of the aviator sunglasses she had on. Tossing them inside the car, she lifted herself unto the hood of the car. She had a perfect view of Vasiliy's house. She took out the rifle and lifted it so she could look through the scope. She grinned when Vasiliy appeared in the scope.
His shirtless form was lounging around on a poolside chair. His beefy form aligned perfectly with the rifle. He was an easy target. Lana smirked. Without a moment's hesitation she pulled back on the trigger and felt the butt of the rifle pound into her shoulder. It must've taken two seconds for the bullet to lodge itself into the Russian man's forehead and come out through the back of his head.
Lana didn't bother staying to assess her work. She simply turned, put the rifle back in it's case, hopped back into the Jeep and drove back home to Waikiki.
The Chapman's were-as they always were- in their office. There had been no hunt that day, so they took the time to catch up on their paper work.
Lyssa was sitting on her office when she got the call. "Bail bonds." She answered. Lyssa listened intently to the person on the other side of the line. Her eyes widened as the seconds passed and after a few more she hung up. Too shocked to even whisper a good bye Lyssa stood up and stumbled into her step-mother's office. "We've got a problem..."