Chapter 2

As tempted as I was to go after the Polish gang, I couldn't do that on my own and I couldn't talk to the Family about it and enlist their help either. As furious as I was over it, I had to let it lie. My only satisfaction was that Christian said he shot the guy who seemed to be in charge of the operation when he got me out. I dimly remembered hearing a gunshot and guessed that must have been it.

Three months later, I had the unenviable task of getting tested. Of course I didn't tell anyone about that either, other than Christian, and only because he asked a few days after I'd been to the sexual health clinic if I was going to do it. I bit his head off and said I was one step ahead of him, and that I was all clear.

I vowed to be more selective about who I hooked up with in the future, but sometimes I couldn't help thinking with my dick, and I sensed it was going to get me into trouble again eventually.

The Mimica Family had had a few run-ins with the motorcycle gang, the Mobsters. We wanted to take over the Scandinavian drug import market, of which they had a decent share. Another gang, the Delincuentas, were a problem to the Mobsters also, and we tried to make a deal with the Mobsters to help them out and in turn, get our hands on half of their share of the market—to start with. We murdered the Mobsters' president's wife and let the Delincuentas take the blame.

Later we set up a meeting with the Mobsters' president, Ulrik, and his second, Petter Hill. Petter was an infuriatingly hot, muscled blond of about thirty-five. He had a wife and kids and was clearly straight, but it didn't stop me fantasising about getting into his pants. I tried to put it out of my mind, but my imagination and my dick repeatedly conjured up scenarios where I got to fuck him, and I jerked off numerous times. I knew I'd never get him into bed willingly, and my fantasies took on a new turn, where I kidnapped him, tied him to my bed, and fucked him. The idea festered in my head, despite what had happened to me. I could see myself doing it—catching him alone, putting a gun to his head, and cuffing him. I'd take him to my apartment, strip him out of his leathers, and do whatever I wanted with him.

"Idiot," I muttered under my breath. I'd probably end up with a bullet in my brain. But despite my common sense telling me it was never going to happen, I couldn't stop thinking about it. It began to drive me crazy, and by the time our meeting took place, I was so focussed on what I wanted from him, I was off my game. But things still went my way.

I took Zvonomir, my uncle, and Majmun, our hired hit, with me. We met Ulrik and Petter in a deserted house in the woods, but it was clear from the beginning Ulrik wasn't interested. He stood back and let Petter do the talking, then told us to go fuck ourselves—he wouldn't make any deal. The pair of them walked off to argue it out and minutes later, there was a gunshot. My stomach flipped over. I would never get close to getting what I wanted, if Petter was lying in a pool of his own blood. But a moment later, he walked back into the room. He'd killed his own president—to further his own career maybe? I didn't know. But he seemed unsure about what to do to get out of the situation he'd just put himself in.

"Go," I said. "We'll deal with it."

Zvonomir and Majmun looked at me like I was crazy as Petter left us to get rid of the body. In seconds, he was gone. "What are you thinking?" Majmum scowled at me.

"Now we own him." I smirked. "He'll agree to the deal. We'll pin Ulrik on the Delincuentas."

Zvonomir shook his head. "I hope you know what you're doing."

That night, Stefan, one of our employees who could be manipulated into doing anything to keep me sweet, since he was screwing my sister Blanka, and Christian, took a van with stolen plates with Ulrik's body in it, and dumped it outside the Mobsters' meeting place. They wore balaclavas, posing as a couple of the Delincuentas. It was done and with any luck, we'd be hearing from Petter Hill before too much longer.

He didn't call, but a couple of weeks later, an opportunity presented itself for me to call on him. One of the newest recruits to the Mobsters attacked and raped one of our restaurant's serving girls. Laura was nothing to do with the Family. She didn't know our secrets. But she was a good worker, she was discreet, and she'd been with us for two years. Pawel, our best employee, had developed feelings for her and as shy and stupid as he was with girls, he'd been working himself up to ask her on a date. And then this happened. Apparently, the young guy wasn't taking his new role with one of the most dangerous gangs in Stockholm seriously.

"We need to deal with this," Pawel said fiercely when we found out.

"I plan to," I responded.

"You plan to? This is a Family matter now," he gritted out. "We should rip that guy's balls off and make him eat them."

"Settle down, Pawel. I will deal with it," I repeated. "I'm taking this to the top."

"Petter Hill?" His eyes widened.

"Yes. He can deal with his own scum."

When Laura arrived at work, I summoned her to my office. Timidly, she stepped in, stood in front of my desk, and stared at the floor.

"Am I in trouble?" she whispered.

"Hell, no. I wanted to check how you're doing."

"I'm okay."

She didn't look okay. She was trembling.

"Could you describe him?"

Colour flooded her face, and she seemed to shrink before my eyes. "Blond hair, blue eyes, clean-shaven. He has a rude word tattooed on his knuckles." She lowered her voice and said "fuck" so quietly I barely heard it.

"He has 'fuck' tattooed on his knuckles?"

"Yes."

"Okay. That's all. Are you up to working?"

"Yes."

"If you don't feel like dealing with the customers, you can work in the kitchen for a few days," I offered.

"Thank you, Davor. That's very kind, but I'll be okay."

I nodded. "Off you go, then."

I thought about what I might do for the next couple of days. I could very easily fuck up by thinking with my dick. I should be using this opportunity to pressure Petter on the deal that hadn't happened yet, but all I could think about was making him feel like he owed me something else.

Two days later, Pawel suggested finding Laura's attacker himself, since I didn't appear to be doing anything about it. I grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall.

"I said I'll handle it," I snapped.

"Well, you're taking your time," he gasped.

"I'm hardly going to walk into their camp when they're having one of their meetings. I'll get my fucking head blown off." I let go of him. "I know what I'm doing. You'll hear about it soon enough."

"I thought you made a deal with them. Did them a favour. Doesn't Petter Hill owe you?"

"More so now. Leave it with me. I'll sort it," I repeated.

"I hope so." Shaking his head and rubbing his neck, he walked away from me.

The next day was Sunday, and with the restaurant quiet, I decided tonight would be the night. I took off alone, feeling uncharacteristically anxious as I drove a circuitous route to the Hill residence and parked far enough away not to be spotted, but close enough to see what was going on. I used binoculars to look into the lit window, and watched Monica Hill playing with their two kids. After a while, Petter, who I assumed was now the president, came into view and spoke to her. Then he gave her a nod and left the room. Moments later, the house door opened, and he came out. He climbed onto the motorcycle in front of the house and fired up the engine. Shit. I should have thought of that. He'd easily get away from me on a bike.

The motorcycle pulled away and joined the road, then headed off north at a steady speed. Perhaps he wasn't in a rush to get where he was going. I started the car and followed. I didn't have a concrete plan of what would happen. I'd initially had ideas of catching him on foot and getting him into my car, but clearly that wasn't an option. I followed him a couple of miles to a bar, where he parked the motorcycle and went inside.

This time, I parked closer and got out of the car. I walked past the bar and glanced in the window, where he could be seen talking to two guys. I circled the building and walked by again. As the door opened, I tucked my face down into my collar and lurked in the shadows, just feet away from the bike. A sideways glance showed me he was alone. Now was my chance.