KRAIT MC STORIES
MOSCOW 1995
Chapter 3
THE NICE PART
Oleg Karpov or ScarLip had waited weeks before saying anything.
Jora knew because his boss, Barinov mentioned the night at the club before he mentioned the reason he asked for a meeting.
Immanuil Barinov was a Bratva Brigadier of the Presnensky District or Presnya, as the locals call it.
He spoke slowly. He pace himself to make he was understood.
He was also a chainsmoker.
Immanuil Barinov was a Bratva brigadier of the Presnensky District or Presnya, as the locals call it.
He spoke slowly. He pace himself to make he was understood.
He was also a chainsmoker.
“Oleg said the girl was looking for someone?”
Jora sat across from Barinov’s desk, one ankle resting over his opposite knee.
“Yes. A distant relative that could help her out. She didn’t know anyone here.”
“Until you came along.”
“Right.”
“And now she belongs to you?”
“Yes.”
Barinov watched him.
The office occupied the second floor of a private security company that protected businesses from the same men who threatened them. The sign downstairs was legitimate. So were the uniforms, permits, and two marked vehicles parked outside.
Almost nothing else was.
Barinov leaned back in his chair. He was in his late fifties, thick through the shoulders and stomach, with silver beginning to show at his temples. His suit jacket hung behind him. The sleeves of his white shirt had been folded neatly to his elbows.
“Oleg says you hardly leave your apartment anymore.”
“That is none of Oleg’s business.”
“Is she American?”
“Danish.”
Barinov frowned as though that made less sense.
“Why did she come to Moscow?”
“New beginning. Had a falling out with her father. Left her home.”
“A runaway?”
“She’s an adult.”
Barinov waited.
Jora gave him nothing else.
There was no reason for Katya Dragunova’s name to enter this room. Not yet. Barinov would ask questions Jora couldn’t answer, then take Kait hostage.
There was no love lost between Barinov and Konstantine Dragunov.
They had come up through the same circles years earlier, both ambitious and both looking to move higher. When Minkov, head of the Moscow Bratva decided who would take control of one of his most profitable territories, Barinov had expected the position to be his.
Minkov gave it to Dragunov instead.
Barinov never forgot.
Konstantine had gone on to become one of Minkov’s most trusted men, while Barinov built his own position within the organization. The two rarely crossed paths anymore, and neither had much reason to.
And if Kait was who she said, she was worth more to Barinov than anyone could imagine.
Jora intended to be the man who delivered her.
Barinov opened the ledger on his desk.
“Your clubs paid on time.”
“They always do.”
“The mechanic on Pervomayskaya pay?”
“Yes. Yesterday.”
“The shipment from Belarus arrive?”
“It’s in the warehouse, and the two airport cops have been paid as well.”
Barinov nodded.
“Then you have been working.”
“I told you I was. Not sure why Oleg is so worried.”
Barinov closed the ledger.
Jora remained still beneath his scrutiny.
“You are young,” Barinov said. “Young men can get distracted, especially by beautiful young women.”
“My numbers are there.”
“They are.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“Problem? There is no problem.”
Jora lowered his foot to the floor.
Barinov removed another cigarette from the pack beside his hand and lit it. He drew deeply before exhaling toward the ceiling.
“You want more responsibility.”
“Always.”
“You have been asking for it for a year.”
“And earning it longer.”
Barinov opened a drawer and removed a stack of folded papers bound with an elastic band. He dropped it on the desk between them.
Jora didn’t reach for it immediately.
“What is that?”
“More responsibility.”
“How much?”
“Enough to shut Oleg’s mouth about you slacking because of your new girlfriend.”
Jora removed the elastic.
The first page contained the name and address of a restaurant owner who had missed two payments. Beneath it were a furniture importer, a nightclub near the river, and a man who had borrowed money against three vehicles he no longer appeared to own.
There were nine names in total.
“When?”
“By the end of the month.”
“That’s not a lot of time.”
Jora turned through the pages again.
“These aren’t even mine.”
“They are now.”
“Petrov handles the river.”
“Petrov is in the hospital.”
Jora raised an eyebrow.
Barinov took another drag from the cigarette.
“You didn’t know he got jumped by Antonov’s crew?”
Jora returned to the first page.
“No.”
Barinov only raised an eyebrow and nodded.
Jora looked at the papers again. Nine accounts. Three neighborhoods. At least two men known to keep armed security. Another who had already sent one collector away with a broken jaw.
“I need another car.”
“You have a car.”
“I need one that isn’t mine.”
“Steal one.”
“And a driver.”
“Take Maksim.”
Jora closed the stack.
“When you collect all nine, we discuss what comes next.”
“My club’s neighborhood would be nice.”
“We’ll talk about that later.”
“In one more year?”
Barinov became serious.
“You are not the only one in Moscow trying to get into the brotherhood.”
Jora held his gaze.
“No. But I’m the one bringing you more money than anyone else.”
Silence settled across the office.
Barinov tapped ash into a crystal tray.
“You are good, Jora. Better than Petrov… Maksim. Maybe better than Oleg.”
“Maybe?”
“Yes, but you are also impatient. That makes men careless.”
“I’m neither of those things.”
“Then getting this done before the new year should be… as the Americans say… a piece of cake.”
Jora raised an eyebrow, then slid the papers inside his coat.
Barinov picked up the ledger again, dismissing him.
Jora reached the door before Barinov spoke.
“I want to meet her.”
He stopped and closed his eyes tight.
“Bring her to my New Year’s Eve party.”
Jora turned.
“She’s mine, Barinov.”
Barinov put his hands up.
“I only said I wanted to meet her.”
“Alright. Anything else?”
“No… Just bring me my money.”
Jora nodded and opened the door.
He stepped into the hallway.
Oleg stood near the stairs with his shoulder against the wall. The scar cutting through his lower lip pulled slightly when he smiled.
Jora closed Barinov’s door behind him.
“You’ve been talking about me.”
Oleg shrugged. “Barinov asked why you haven’t been around. I simply told him why.”
Jora walked closer.
“Mind your own fucking business.”
Oleg pushed away from the wall.
“Go fuck yourself, pretty boy.”
He passed him and entered Barinov’s office.
Jora descended the stairs.
Outside, he sat behind the wheel of the Mercedes and opened the stack again.
Nine collections by the end of the year.
He already knew which ones would pay when threatened, which would need to see blood, and which were likely to run before he reached them.
Jora looked at the first address.
Then he started the engine.
By the time Jora returned to the apartment, Kait was stretched across the couch with a book open against her stomach.
She looked up when the door opened.
“You took forever.”
“I’m sorry, Kitty. Just work stuff.”
Jora closed the door behind him and removed his coat.
Normally, he came straight to her.
Tonight, he carried a stack of folded papers to the dining table and dropped them beside the ashtray.
Kait lowered the book.
“What’s all that?”
“Work.”
“You don’t look too happy about it.”
“I asked for more responsibility so… Here it is.”
Kait got up from the couch and walked over slowly showing off her new red cami and matching panties.
“That blood-red color suits you.”
“Yeah? I forgot we got this one too.”
“Maybe you can model the rest for me later.”
Kait giggled and got behind Jora. She too his shirt off and started rubbing his shoulders.
Jora removed the elastic band from the stack and spread the first few pages across the table.
She leaned a little to read what he was reading but it was pointless.
“So what kind of work is this?”
“Collections.”
“Money?”
“Most of the time.”
Kait picked up one of the pages.
Jora took it from her with a smirk.
“You still can’t read it.”
“I’ve been studying.”
“Sure you have.”
She ignored him and reached for another.
Jora let her have it.
“What are they paying for?”
“Different things. Loans. Protection. Merchandise.”
“What happens if they don’t pay?”
Jora looked at her.
Kait waited.
“Depends why they aren’t paying.”
She pulled out the chair beside him and sat.
“And if they just don’t want to?”
“Then we convince them.”
Kait looked down at the papers.
“How?”
Jora leaned back.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes we threaten them. Sometimes we take something worth what they owe. Sometimes we hurt them.”
Kait nodded slowly.
“And sometimes?”
Jora held her eyes.
“Sometimes it goes further.”
She understood.
Jora watched for a reaction that never came.
Instead, Kait pointed toward the stack.
“Is it hard?”
“Only for them.”
She picked up another sheet and turned it toward him.
“What’s this one?”
“Restaurant.”
“And this?”
“Furniture importer.”
Kait moved to the next.
Jora looked at the paper.
“Two of these men keep armed security… One already put another collector in the hospital. I guess this one could be considered ‘hard.’”
Kait sat back.
“You don’t go alone, do you?”
“No, I have a driver.”
“When do we start?”
Jora looked at her.
“We?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because this is my job and it’s dangerous.”
Jora gathered the pages into a neater stack.
Kait stared at him for a moment.
“So?”
“So you stay here.”
Her expression changed.
Jora noticed immediately.
“What?”
Whatever.”
Kait walked over to the fridge.
Jora watched her open it.
She stared inside without taking anything out.
“What’s the matter?”
Kait closed the door.
“I’m not sitting in your apartment alone why you go do all that stuff.”
Jora leaned back in the chair.
“This is what I do, Kitty.”
Kait folded her arms.
“Let me come with you.”
“Absolutely not.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Jora, come on.”
Jora recognized the look.
He had seen it when she talked about her father.
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“Yeah. I guess nothing does.”
Jora became quiet.
Kait went over to the window watching the snow fall.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Jora got up and joined her. “You gonna tell me what happened with your father?”
She looked at him again and shrugged.
“Just had a falling out.”
Jora kissed her shoulder.
“About what?”
Kait hesitated.
Jora waited.
“My dad’s in a motorcycle club.”
“In Denmark?”
“Yeah, but it’s not just Denmark, there’s chapters in other Scandinavian countries, Germany, and the States… It started in Texas.”
“What kind of motorcycle club?”
“The kind that does the same shit you do.”
Jora’s expression shifted slightly.
Kait walked back to the table.
“I grew up around it. My dad was one of the founders.”
He paid close attention. As soon as she started talking about it her body language and tone of voice changed.
“I was supposed to get in after my tour in Iraq.”
Jora frowned.
“But you didn’t?”
Kait shook her head.
“No. He fucking lied to me. When I was seventeen he said I couldn’t because I didn’t know enough about weapons. Didn’t know how to take care of myself… So I enlisted.”
Jora looked at her differently now.
“Really, you enlisted because of the club?”
“Yeah, I wanted the training. Then, I did everything he said. I finished school, learned everything I could, went to Iraq, came home. And he still said no.”
Kait gave a humorless laugh.
“Turns out none of it fucking mattered.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a woman.”
Jora said nothing.
“He knew from the beginning he was never going to let me prospect. He just thought I’d grow out of it.”
She looked down at the collection files.
“I spent two fucking years proving I could do something he was never gonna let me try.”
Jora watched her face.
“So that’s why you came here looking for Konstantine? You thought he would give you work.”
“I thought maybe he’d give me a chance.”
Jora looked at her. She looked sad.
He hated seeing her that way.
“That being said… I didn’t come all the way to Russia to sit in your apartment. I can totally do this outlaw shit. Been around it my whole life.”
“This is different than bar fights and Harleys, Kitty.”
“I know. I saw what my dad did. He did hits, collected money, beat the shit out of people. Shit, he was even a pimp sometimes. None of this is new to me.”
“Seeing and doing are two very different things.”
She turned and met his eyes.
“I know it’s dangerous, but I want to learn.”
Jora made her look at him and rubbed his thumb slowly along her lower lip.
“You don’t speak Russian.”
“I understand a lot more than I did two months ago.”
“It’s still different. You don’t know these men. You don’t know how we work.”
“Then teach me. I’ll help you get every single ruble back from that stack.”
Jora stared at her.
Kait didn’t move.
“What if you don’t like that side of me?”
Her eyes lifted to his.
“There is nothing you can do that will make me dislike you.”
A smile started.
“What if I snap at you, boss you around, yell at you… you may not like that.”
It disappeared.
She put her hands against his chest.
“Just make it up to me when we come home.”
That made him break. He chuckled.
“You do exactly what I say then.”
She looked at him and nodded slowly
“If I tell you to stay in the car, you stay in the car.”
“Got it.”
“If I tell you to leave, you leave. You don’t wait for me. You don’t decide you know better.”
“Okay.”
Jora continued as if she hadn’t spoken.
“You don’t speak. You don’t get involved.”
Kait nodded.
“I’ll take you on one collection… You watch. That’s all.”
“One?”
“Yeah. To see if you really want to do it…”
“I don’t need a test run. I wanna do all of them.”
Jora studied her.
“Fine. We’ll see after the first one.”
Kait smiled and Jora shook his head.
He grabbed her hand and they went back to the table and he grabbed a paper.
“We’ll start with this one.”
Kait looked down at the restaurant owner’s name.
“What did he do?”
“Missed two payments.”
“Why?”
“He says business is bad.”
“Is it?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
Jora’s mouth moved slightly.
“Because unlike you, I can read the rest of the page.”
Kait rolled her eyes.
Jora pulled the paper away before she could take it again.
“Tomorrow you’ll meet Maksim. He’s gonna drive me.”
“He’s gonna drive us.”
Jora stared at her.
He was absolutely crazy about her.
He smiled and leaned to kiss her.
She smiled back.
Jora gathered the papers and replaced the elastic around them.
Then he caught her hand gently to get her attention.
“I need to make something very clear.”
She nodded.
“This isn’t the nightclub.”
“I know.”
“This isn’t partying until sunrise.”
“Yeah, I understand.”
His hand moved to her face.
“You’ve only seen the nice part.”
Kait licked his mouth.
“Then show me the rest.”
He licked his upper lip and let out a humorless laugh.
“I don’t stand a fucking chance with you.”
Jora pulled her in and began kissing her everywhere.
