Brutes revenge, p.1
Brute's Revenge, page 1
Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2023 Sam Crescent
ISBN: 978-0-3695-0924-6
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Lisa Petrocelli
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
BRUTE’S REVENGE
Evil Fallen Bratva MC, 1
Sam Crescent
Copyright © 2023
Prologue
“Who sent you?” Brute asked. He had a gun pointed at the soldier’s head. The white dove was clear to see, displayed on the man’s neck. He knew exactly who sent them, but he wanted to hear the name straight from his lips before he snuffed him out. All he wanted to know was which fucking Brigadier thought they could mess with him.
For several seconds none of them spoke
Three men all looked the opposite way, hands by their sides. He’d stripped them of their weapons before coming out into the woods. The weather held cleared but he knew time was ticking. A storm was coming and he wanted to handle these traitors before it hit.
The one on the right turned around. “Come on, Brute, you know what the deal—” He never got to finish as he fired his gun straight into the man’s skull.
Brute wasn’t listening to reason or any of the shit they thought he needed to listen to. They were on his territory and he’d already told the Golubev Bratva if they came anywhere near the Evil Fallen Bratva MC and his territory, the whole lot of them would be dead. There wouldn’t be any mercy from him. He’d kill them all.
He wasn’t joking. They would all die and he’d gladly go to war to make it so.
One of the men whimpered.
Brute tutted. “Since when did the Golubev send spineless little wimps?” he asked.
No one spoke.
He was getting bored and the truth was, he wanted a good fuck. After being on the road for two weeks, he had every intention of coming back to his clubhouse, finding a willing pussy, which was never hard to do, and just enjoying her until he was done. Instead, he found these three fucking traitors at his clubhouse, sneaking around.
There was no way anyone associated with the Golubev Bratva would ever survive. He had made a vow, one he intended to keep. So long as they stayed in their territory and didn’t invade his business, they could live. Anyone who attempted to threaten or take him out would be eliminated.
He gave them a warning.
Brute killed the man on the left, and then kept his gun pointed at the guy in the center, moving around the dead body on the right to stand in front of the guy remaining. He’d not pissed or shit himself, and he considered that a huge plus.
He stared him straight in the eye, gun not wavering, ready to do what needed to be done.
“Tell me,” he said.
“What’s the point? You’re going to kill me anyway.”
This made him smile. “True, I am going to kill you, but you see, I can make it quick, or I can make it take a very long time. I love to hear men scream and listen to them beg for their mommy or daddy to come and save them. It’s one of the highlights of my day.” He winked at him and then blew him an air kiss.
“Golubev sent us,” he said.
“Why?”
“He wanted to see if you … would consider any chance of reconciliation. He wants this territory and knows the only way to do it is to create peace.”
“Peace.” Brute laughed. “The time for peace has ended, now all I want is war.” And with that, he fired the gun, killing the final man.
“Do you think killing all three of them was really necessary?” Igor asked, sounding disappointed. He’d been waiting silently while Brute dealt with them.
“I’m not giving you toys to play with,” Brute said.
The storm was coming and now it was time to dispose of the bodies, but he would make sure Golubev got what he wanted. He pulled out his knife and with each body, he cut away the picture of the dove. All three pieces would get mailed to Golubev.
Chapter One
Faith Dawson knew she shouldn’t be at the Evil Fallen Bratva MC clubhouse. She had no intention of being here, but this date, which was a disaster, wasn’t helping. She stood out like a sore thumb. Every other woman wore a skimpy outfit that showed more flesh than covered it, while she was in a long circle skirt with a top tucked inside. Her mother always told her she had a weird body with big tits, hips, and thighs, but a small waist.
It wasn’t that tiny, but on her body, it looked tiny, because everything else was so much bigger. All her life, her mother had complained about her weight, but Faith knew it had to do with her image and the attention she hoped to gain. Faith was nothing but a huge disappointment to Beverly, her mother.
She attempted to push all those insecurities to the back of her mind and instead focus on the party happening right in front of her. The last thing she wanted to do was go on this date with Pete, who was currently pulling in another woman to kiss her on the lips. She didn’t mind that he was kissing other women. Her mother had organized this date and it had been awful.
First, the food was disgusting, and had come from some small van with no signs and no menu. Pete had ordered for her, and she couldn’t eat any of the stuff, because it hadn’t looked cooked. She’d watched as Pete took a bite of his chicken wrap. She didn’t want to spend the next day throwing her guts up, seeing as the chicken still looked pink, if not red, on the inside. It was gross.
So, she was hungry and now she was at a place she had a feeling she would never leave. Holding her bag close to her body, she tried to stay as still as possible.
Pete was supposed to take her home, that was the deal. Food, a small walk, and then home, but instead, she had ended up here. There was no one for her to call or any way to ask for help.
This was her mother’s doing. She didn’t know what Beverly hoped to achieve, but now that she had, Faith had a horrible feeling about tonight.
The club seemed to be alive. Men and women were everywhere, and none of them were caring who saw them, as they were in different states of undress, and having sex as well. Faith didn’t have a clue where to look. She imagined this just made her look so … immature. At twenty-five years old, she was still a virgin. She had never gone to a party, had never wanted to go to a party, and nerves hit her.
There was a sudden cheer and she turned toward the sound, only to see a woman being carried off, through a set of double doors, with three other men following behind.
Pete was long gone. Faith didn’t know where he’d escaped to, but this wasn’t good.
She had no way of getting home. The only thing she could hope for was to get out of here alive, even if it meant walking. She made her way toward the main door, which had become quite impossible with so many people there. She had beer and other alcoholic beverages thrown over her in the process of getting to the main door. The moment she did, she pulled on it and let out a sigh of relief as it opened for her. Success.
She stepped outside and took a deep breath at the sound of the door closing behind her. She made it.
Now all she had to do was figure out a way to get the hell out of the clubhouse, off the Evil Fallen Bratva MC’s territory, and then for her mother to stop meddling in her life.
“Party not to your liking?”
The deep, guttural voice took her by surprise and she whirled around to see a large, muscular man in the shadows. She couldn’t make out anything else about him, but she could tell he wasn’t small. The glow from his cigarette helped pinpoint his location.
“Er, my, uh, date kind of left me. Which is the best way to leave?” she asked. She did want to ask how was the best way to get out of his territory, but she had a horrible feeling that wouldn’t be the right question for him.
“You don’t want to party?”
“I’m not exactly a party person.” She didn’t want to insult this man. “It looks great but it’s late. I should be getting home.”
He let out a chuckle and she couldn’t help but tense up. Was he mocking her?
“I don’t believe in time. There is no such thing as ‘getting late’ in my world.” He took a final, long pull on his cigarette and then flicked it out into the night.
There was no care or consideration to his actions.
She tried not to tense up as he drew closer. The moment he came into the light, she saw him clearly. Short, blond hair, blue eyes, his body heavily covered in ink. The leather cut he wore didn’t hide the fact the ink played around his neck, and he reached up to run fingers through his hair, showing it was on his hands and even covered his wrists. There was no ink on his palms. Faith couldn’t exactly make out what the ink was.
“You don’t have to worry about work?” she asked. It was such a dumb question.
“Causing evil and chaos is my work.” He chuckled. “But you, you look like you’re far away from home.”
Her heart started to race.
“I, uh, my mom set me up on a date with this guy Pete, and I’d just like to go home. Is there any way I can call a cab?” she asked.
He moved ever so close to her.
Faith tensed up. She held onto her handbag with a death grip, but didn’t move away, not for a second. She waited.
“Why don’t you stick around?” he asked. “You might learn to have a good time.”
That seemed almost like a threat.
“I’m … ugh … I’m good. I really should be going.”
She suddenly became aware of three other men surrounding her.
“But, you see, if you go, then that ruins my plans, and Rat Boy Pete, he promised me a little present, and you’re my present.”
The smile on his lips filled her with fear. This wasn’t good. This was never going to be good. She spun around.
Rat Boy Pete stood right there.
“I don’t know what this is about, but you’ve got the wrong person.”
“So I don’t have Faith Dawson, the bastard granddaughter to Sergey Golubev? Your mother isn’t Beverly Dawson, who so happened to become a little side piece to your father, Nikki Golubev?”
Faith had tried to avoid her life like that. She hated knowing who she had come from. Her mother had often said if she had been prettier, she’d have been Bratva royalty, but instead, she’d been tossed aside. Nikki, her father, wanted nothing to do with her. He had a daughter who was the same age as her.
The only person to show her any real affection had been Sergey, which was insane, considering the reputation he had. She wasn’t a fool.
On her eighteenth birthday, even though she tried to pretend she didn’t know, her father had forced her to carry the dove of the Golubev Bratva on the inside of her wrist. She always tried to hide it with either long sleeves, watches, or bracelets.
She didn’t know if her grandfather even knew about the tattoo, but it didn’t matter because it was there. He always told her he’d take care of her. Faith had never put him to the test, but she imagined this was the real test now.
Her life was in danger, and she had a horrible feeling this wasn’t going to end well.
****
“Did I do good, Brute? I did, didn’t I. That means I can stay, right?”
Brute didn’t like Rat Boy Pete. He was completely unreliable and a weakling, but in this situation, he had done good. There was no way he was going to toss him out onto the street, not tonight at least.
“Go and get some food and tell one of the women I sent you, and you’re to be treated good.”
He’d never make Rat Boy Pete one of them, but when he did good, he would be sure to help him be rewarded, and with Sergey Golubev’s granddaughter currently locked in the basement of the clubhouse, that was a good thing.
He looked through the door to see her chained to the bed.
“What do you plan to do?” Igor asked.
Brute turned toward Igor and he saw the excitementtemptation in the other man’s eyes. He was practically foaming at the mouth for a chance to get in there and use some of his newfound torture techniques on her.
“You’re not going to touch her.”
Igor wrinkled his nose. “I didn’t want to anyway.”
With that, Igor lost interest and made his way back upstairs.
“You don’t want Igor to have her, so what is the plan?” Road asked.
He turned toward the other man. They all had one enemy in common—Sergey Golubev. Road had a very good reason to hate him. The scars on his face were a constant reminder.
There was a time when Road had been a “pretty boy.” With just a wink or a smile, most women fell into his lap and were unable to resist him. Road had been used many times to garner information out of men and women.
No one had been able to resist his charms, not when Road turned them on, making them think they were his whole world, when the truth was, they were the furthest thing from it.
Brute didn’t know the exact details, but one evening, after going to Sergey with all the information he held, Road had come out, and his pretty face had been gone. Instead, he looked like he stepped out of a horror movie. His face had been stitched together, and Sergey had made sure they never quite healed right. The scars would stay with Road forever.
“Last I checked, the bastard daughter of anyone meant shit,” Road said.
“Yeah, but rumor has it, Sergey has a soft spot for this little bastard,” Vlad said.
“Rumor and gossip are not good points to go on,” Road said. “We all know the lies that are spread in pointless gossip. They get people killed.”
“My plan at the moment is for her not to go anywhere. I’m not even going to call Golubev to let him know what happened to her. Rat Boy Pete has his instructions, and that is all he is going to do.”
“Once Golubev finds out who was on a date with her, Rat Boy Pete is going to end up dead, and he will be useless to you,” Vlad said.
“Then that is bad news for Rat Boy Pete. Why do you think he’s going to enjoy a nice hot meal and some good, willing pussy?” Brute said.
Vlad and Road left him alone.
The party had been a front, and it had long since died down when he had his target. Rat Boy Pete had sent him the text confirming he’d gotten her and that they were on a date. Brute had told him to go to Beverly, to lie and pretend he was a good little soldier for Nikki. All Beverly wanted was the respect and title that only Sergey could give her. After she popped out a daughter, and Faith hadn’t lived up to Nikki’s standards, Beverly had meant nothing to him.
Brute knew how it all worked.
He stared at the woman who was chained to the bed by her ankle. She sat on the bed, back leaning against the wall, looking totally … confused.
He knew he should leave her alone. The plan was to take her and keep her, but he couldn’t resist going inside to talk to Faith one more time. If needed, he would kill her, to make Golubev pay. She wouldn’t be the first woman he’d killed.
Faith tensed up, but she made no move to leave the bed. She folded her arms in front of her chest but the tension in her body was clear to see.
“Have you called my mother yet?” she asked, speaking first.
He grabbed a chair and dragged it across the floor. The noise filled the air, and it was horrible. He saw her wince, and he kept going until the chair was in front of her bed.
“No.”
“Why not?” she asked. “If it’s money you’re after, if you call my mom, she’ll figure out a way to contact my dad.”
“Wow, you do surprise me, Faith. Talking so openly about who you’re related to.”
“I’m not stupid. I saw the name of the club when Pete drove us here. You’re the Evil Fallen Bratva MC. I don’t know what that means, but I’ve heard your name mentioned a time or two, and I know my mom is afraid of you. She told me that if I ever saw any of you, I was to look the other way or run. You know who I am. You knew who I was the moment I walked through the door. There’s no point in playing dumb or denying the obvious.”
Brute was impressed. He couldn’t remember a woman ever talking to him so bluntly. There was no smile on her face, no laughter.
“I don’t know what any of this is about. I … I didn’t want to go on this date. My mom made me.”
“Yeah, your mom will be so disappointed.” He tutted. “She expected someone to impress, didn’t she? Rat Boy Pete is a nobody, and he’s not going anywhere fast, trust me.”
“Just add it into a long line of disappointments. My mom won’t be surprised.”
Brute stared at her. “Why aren’t you begging?”
“Will it do me any good?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then I won’t beg.”
This made him smile. “So there is some Golubev inside you.”
She shrugged.
Golubev was known for not begging. He took until there was nothing left.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Nothing for you to worry that pretty little head over. You might want to get comfortable. It’s going to be a long time before you’re free.”
He got to his feet and made his way toward the door.
“Are you going to kill me?” she asked.
