27. Laszlo
Lyn was keeping something from me. Uneasiness rolled across my shoulders, and I forced it away.
We were getting ready for bed, and she was dressed in an adorable pink fleece pajama set with thick socks. My fingers were working her hair into two braids as she helped me with the unfamiliar motions.
“Sorry, I think I screwed it up again,” I apologized.
“It’s hard at first until you get the muscle memory. Here, I’ll go slow.”
She took her right braid out, and started doing it again, her delicate fingers weaving in graceful motions that I tried to mimic with some success. In the end her braid was perfect and mine was… not terrible.
She clipped both up into a halo around the fringe of her hair, then smiled over her shoulder at me. It looked forced, and I frowned.
“Are you okay, Lyn? Cold feet?”
There it was again. That flicker of something I didn’t recognize in the edges of her eyes, the flare of her nose.
“I’m okay.”
My heart began to race.
She just lied to me.
“What is it?” I probed, and her gaze skipped away, a flush coming to the apples of her cheeks.
“I have to ask you about something I found on your computer.”
I frowned, scanning my memory for what I had on that partition. It was clean of all Bratva ties, the crypto scams, the dark web access. My bookmarks were all things I thought she might be interested in.
But she had full access to the internet.
Shit, had she looked up some porn? I’d have to look up the logs after.
“What did you find, angel? I won’t be mad.”
A voice over the speaker system intruded upon our moment. “Proximity alert, parking garage elevator.”
Fuck!
“What’s wrong?” Lyn asked, her voice strained.
“Nothing. Probably. Could be your guards. I sent them home for the night, but maybe...” I struggled for a benign reason I could give her, and came up empty.
I hit a button hidden in the wardrobe. The wall pulled apart, splitting in the centre to show my elaborate camera system. Eight screens for the outside of my building, six smaller ones that flicked through the interior ones.
“You have screens everywhere,” she said, comforted by the realization rather than freaked out.
“Anywhere I might spend time and be caught unaware.”
There was a single tall man in the elevator.
He didn’t have the build of a bodyguard, and it wasn’t Bodrov.
His face was covered with a mask, a large coat disguising his form.
“Lyn, do you have the taser?”
“No, it’s on the kitchen island, in my purse,” she said, colour drained from her face.
Opening my nightstand, I took out my switchblade, sliding it into my cuff. I tossed her my black hoodie, the one that was now hers, and she caught it.
“Get dressed. Your sneakers are in the closet.” I dodged out of the bedroom, down the stairs. I grabbed her taser, bringing it back to her.
“The window there opens out onto the fire escape.” She followed my gesture, her blue eyes wide with terror. “I need you to take it. Two doors down, on the left, there’s a little building. Your phone will open the door. Stay in there until I come get you.”
She trembled, but nodded with a great understanding of what was happening, what I was asking of her.
“I’ll knock three times before I open it. Like this,” I demonstrated the proper rhythm. “Tase anyone else who comes in. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said breathlessly.
I bruised her with my kiss, my hand cupping her jaw, then I pulled away. I deactivated the alarm, pulled the fake lock back, and unlatched the window before opening it.
There wasn’t the luxury of time; I couldn’t watch her. Instead, I went down the steps, into the main room, and waited. Part of me knew it wasn’t a kill squad. One man could do a lot of damage, but the Bratva worked in teams. That scared me the most, because if it wasn’t them?
Then it could be someone connected with the mansion.
My heart was racing, but with a few long breaths, I forced it into rhythmic submission.
Leather gloves muffled the knock on the door.
The visitor was still hiding his face from my cameras. He knew where they were, spotted them. Did he case the place? I hadn’t seen any unusual activity the past few days.
“Who is it?”
“A friend,” he said, the voice familiar, but the mask made it hard to place. It wasn’t Scorpion. Fuck, Scorpion knew better than to sneak up on me. He was just as twitchy about privacy. I didn’t doubt he knew my address, but he also wouldn’t come here and tie us together.
“Show your face to the camera,” I demanded, my hand clammy on the gun.
My phone pinged. Lyn made it to the safe-house.
The man did as I instructed, pulling down the mask to reveal an aristocratic nose, firm lips, a sharp jaw. A flash of eyes and I expelled all the air I’d been holding, opening the door and urging Urvan Fortov, the Avtoritet, into my home.
Resetting the alarm, I gestured inside in a welcome.
“It’s late,” I grouched, heading to the kitchen. “You want coffee?”
“Ah, yes. I suppose I’ve always been a bit of a night person,” Urvan said, accepting my offer.
Lyn was safe. Terrified, sure, but safe. And I was going to let her stay that way while I figured out what I’d done to warrant an after dinner visit from the boss of my boss.
Urvan wasn’t quick about filling me in. He sat at the table, glancing around at the leftover dishes until a black coffee in a white mug was placed in front of him. He didn’t wait for it to cool, sipping it with a polite smile.
“Not much of a coffee drinker, are you?”
“I like it bitter,” I said with a shrug.
“You like it bitter. Yes. I picked up on that when we first met. You could have taken the simple offer of a victimless kill, but you decided instead to solve a problem I couldn’t involve myself in.”
“Is that what this is about?”
“Yes and no. What do you make of Bodrov?”
It was a test, but one I knew the answer to. The honest one.
“He’s a low-level thug, playing at being important because of who his father was. Because of his blood.”
“Indeed, but that’s a rather surface read for one of your skills.”
My lip twitched. I wasn’t immune to that particular flattery.
“He’s been in and out of the revolving door of petty debts for decades, he is wasteful, and has poor control over his men.
He thinks he covers his behind, but he’s emotional and erratic.
There’s also a cop in his organization that he is being worked by, appealed to by base instincts of machismo and ego fluffing. ”
Urvan raised his brow at that last point, and I wondered if he knew. It was a deep cover, one I needed Scorpion’s help to confirm. It was a risk telling him, but if he had more information on where Jimmy disappeared to, I needed to know.
I needed Jimmy dead.
He drank more of his coffee, and I took a large swallow myself. It was going to be another long night. He smelled like cloves and gun powder. I grabbed a cigarette, offering him one, then lighting both.
“And what do you make of him hamstringing your operation?”
“He wants me for himself. To take the credit.”
“Because of his greed?”
“That and his entitlement. He thinks I’m a mongrel half breed. Not someone worthy of moving up in the organization.”
“Ah, yes. Your father was Hungarian?”
I didn’t want to talk about him, but I nodded, sharp.
“Bratva, though?”
Another nod. I bit my tongue back on everything else I could say about the bastard.
“Well, let me ease your mind, Mr. Szász. The Bratva is not so disorganized as your particular brigade. We’ve been watching it for a while. There are still some who knew Bodrov’s father, respected him, which gave his son a longer leash.”
It sounded like Urvan was making excuses for poor leadership. He seemed to read my distaste and smiled patiently at me. “I handled it this evening.”
“It?”
“Bodrov.”
Bodrov had family connections. He was full-blooded Russian, and had been working for the Vasilyev since he was a boy. And apparently, Urvan had unceremoniously killed him. He wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to me if he knew that I was planning on destroying the Bratva.
I schooled my expression into one of neutrality.
“And his men?”
“Some will be reassigned. Some joined him.” Urvan shrugged it all off as if it were a mildly more interesting than usual work day.
“Jimmy?”
“That was the cop you mentioned?”
My jaw was set hard. “Yes.” The Bratva didn’t know. They’d have no information I didn’t already have. Damn it.
“He was not there. He hasn’t been seen in some time.”
“That’s going to be a problem.”
“I agree, but you have better uses, don’t you, Mr. Szász? It was Bodrov’s idea for you to get blood on your hands, and I have to admit to indulging my curiosity. You do not have that same…” he trailed off, trying to find the English word. “Krvo?ednost.”
“Bloodlust.”
“Yes, bloodlust. There’s patience in your gaze. Greed, not easily fed.”
I let him think that his read on me was accurate.
It was better if he thought I was in this for the money alone.
In truth, I had been waiting almost twenty years to get access to the Pakhan, and the blackmail material that travelled with him.
Dirt on associates, rivals. No doubt my fake fingerprints from Gorky’s murder were on file.
If there was any evidence of what happened to Lilien, it would be kept with him.
“I need someone like you at my side. Someone I can trust,” Urvan offered, and for once, I didn’t have to fake my smile with him.
“It would be an honour to work with you.”