Chapter 65 Adam

Chapter 65 Adam
Adam’s POV

Four hundred miles away, I’m sitting beachside on Sullivan’s Island in South Carolina. The waves are crashing around me, and the salty air fills my nose. My Cuban cigar and mojito were my only company.

Did they not realize I was missing yet?

I’d always been under his thumb, never anything more than just the IT guy or someone to oversee security.

Well, jokes on them.

Who do they think helped Viktor’s men bypass his gate security?

Who do they think helped relay floor plans and schematics?

I was tired of being a lap dog for Aleksander Volkov. It was time for the world to know, Adam Belov.

Watching the waves crash into the sand, I take another sip of my drink. I’d spent years with Aleksander and Dimitri helping them take control of Atlanta and the rest of the South. It was no easy feat.

I was there before Henry, but they chose him for secret missions and the like because of his special forces training.

Year after year of loyal servitude, I kept thinking this was the year I'll be promoted. And yet it never came.

Then there was that bitch, Nina. I had met her at a coffee shop; she had been staring at me, awe-stricken like some little innocent rich girl who had never seen a man of the Bratva.

I couldn't give up the opportunity to go over and make her squirm. She was so awkward at the time, it was cute. Months have gone by, and we started seeing each other regularly, and by the end of the first year, I had asked her to move in with me.

We found a two-bedroom condo in one of the most exclusive high-rises in Buckhead. It was opulent with white marble throughout the home, a chef's kitchen, and a view to die for.

Everything went well for the first four years, but then tension started to build. Nothing I did for her was right, and we were constantly fighting. The yelling, screaming, cussing, and throwing shit was getting old. It had gotten old fast!

Then one night, she told me her Daddy dearest was going to be in town and wanted to meet. I had never met her father, and I had known that her mom had passed many years previously.

The day arrived, and it started out like any other. Coffee, breakfast, replying to business emails, checking in with Aleksander and Dimitri, checking the accounts, really nothing out of the ordinary.

After running around town, I sped my BMW SUV towards our Condo. After arriving in the parking garage, I took the elevator back up to our penthouse floor. When it dinged, I entered the passcode to access my floor. Once it opened, I kicked off my shoes and undid my tie, heading straight to the bathroom to take a shower and wash all this stress off me.

Once I finished my shower and got dressed in something casual but still formal enough for a nice dinner, I walked to the kitchen. In the kitchen, I poured myself a quarter of a cup of scotch, then drank it in one swig.

I had tried to do a deep background check on Nina’s dad, and it's bothered me to no end, especially as an IT Tech, that I couldn't access the information I wanted to know about him.

“Fuck” I spat out, feeling the frustration going into my muscles. Setting down the crystal tumbler in the sink, I grabbed my phone and keys.

I’d call Nina from the car and have her and her father meet me at the Italian restaurant in Buckhead.

Once I hit the parking garage, I had already changed my mind about calling her. I didn't want to hear her whiny ass voice right now. I sent the text with the meeting location, but I took the scenic route and arrived ten minutes after the expected meeting time.

The restaurant sat up on a hill, separated from the hustle and bustle of modern Atlanta. It was established over a hundred years ago by one of the first Italian families who'd immigrated to the South. They had taken the refined dining of the Southern upper class and mixed it with Italian food, which had soon become one of the most premier fine dining restaurants in all of the South.

Not bothering with the Valet, I parked my car off to the side and walked to the entrance. Not bothering with the lines, I walked to the hostess, who quickly noticed me. She was a cute thing, probably in her early twenties, maybe a college student. She blushed and quickly gestured for me to follow her through the maze of booths and tables to a quiet back room used for their “more important guests,” which was code for the Mafia, Bratva, Triad, Yakuza, or even a dirty politician.

Opening the door, she gestured me into the immaculate dining area with its grand chandelier, massive polished oak table, and a lace tablecloth; on top was a different assortment of fine china, crystal glasses, and silverware made of real silver.

It reeked of opulence.

Sitting down at the head of the table, my phone had pinged; it was Nina.

“Daddy and I just arrived. We'll be in there in just a minute.”

Trying to compose myself so I didn't look like the asshole I was, I grabbed a bottle of fifty-year-old vintage wine that had been imported from the North of Italy, especially for this occasion. The cork had already been popped, allowing the wine to breathe. Pouring a glass probably a little fuller than necessary, I brought it to my lips and took a big, unrefined gulp.

As I was putting the glass back on the table, I heard the heavy click of heels coming in this direction. Straightening myself up in the chair, I waited as the door slowly opened and in walked Nina. She looked stunning in a tight-fitted black dress and a pair of red pointy stiletto heels.

Getting up, I began to walk over. “You look gorgeous,” I declared, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. That's when I heard it, a clearing of a man’s throat. I turn around, getting ready to greet her father jovially, then I stop dead as a mouse.

There stood Billy Smith, the Irish weapons dealer who had almost gotten me killed seven years ago.

“You!” I screamed.

His face turned pale, and he began to turn.

Nina’s look of confusion, then horror, as I pulled my pistol from my waistband, clicked it back, and aimed.

Bang.

He dropped dead, blood pouring from his forehead. His mouth still held open in a silent scream.

Tuning out Nina’s screams, I kicked his body once, then twice, “Nobody betrays Adam Belov.”

The surge of power was exhilarating, and with that, I turned and left, never looking back.