23. Konstantin
TWENTY-THREE
Konstantin
“Did we ever find out what happened to Andronov’s… product?” Nikolai asks as he pours himself a drink.
We’re in the kitchen, taking a lunch break and preparing for a meeting with Pavone’s consigliere. That’s in three days, but I don’t want to be caught unprepared, not after the last disastrous meeting with Pavone.
I sit at the kitchen table and shake my head. “No. I told him I wanted nothing more to do with it.” I grimace, knowing that it’s probably not the answer Sierra would have wanted. “I did tell our allies not to deal with him, so if we’re lucky, he packed up shop.”
“Here’s hoping,” Nikolai mutters. He takes a long swig of his drink, then shakes his head. “How do you think this meeting is going to go? Is Sierra still going to try to be friends with the Pavone woman?”
“I don’t know.” I take a bite of my sandwich. “It would be ideal, but…” I sigh. “I need Pavone on our side. My father’s been quiet these past two weeks, but I don’t trust it.”
Nikolai barks out a laugh. “No. The quieter he is…” He falls silent for a moment. “I’ve been thinking about what my father said. Or really, what he didn’t say. He’s acting like he’s up to something, too, and I can’t shake the feeling that it has something to do with your dear Papa.”
It’s possible that they’re all busy with Roman’s new baby, and they’re celebrating the infant. I’m sure there have been parties and presents and maybe even jokes about who to marry the child off to.
It’s possible, but unlikely. I know my father. He wouldn’t devote more time than necessary to family, no matter how much he pretends.
“What gifts should we get Sierra?” I say, because there isn’t much we can do regarding my father except wait. “For the baby shower.”
“Aside from baby gifts, you mean?” Nikolai hmms thoughtfully. “We could murder Silvano Cresci for her. As a bonus, that would get us a few extra allies, right?”
I bark out a laugh. “It would be satisfying, but I think that would cause more trouble for us right now. I think he’s friends with Pavone, and he’s definitely friends with some of the bigger weapons dealers. We can do that after we know what my father is up to.”
Nikolai nods, then grimaces. “I don’t guess we could call out sick to this meeting with Rossi, huh? I’ll throw in a couple of fake coughs.” He grins at me, though. He knows perfectly well that it would be an insult—to put it lightly—and that we have to follow through on this.
We need all the allies we can get.
“So, back to presents—” I start, when the loud, familiar pop of a gunshot interrupts us.
I stand up instantly, going for my gun… but it’s still in my office. I glance at Nikolai, and he goes for the guns hidden in a compartment under the kitchen drawers, well out of sight from intruders.
I call the security office as Nikolai passes one of the guns to me. “Boris! What’s going on?”
“I don’t know!” Boris shouts. “The cameras went dark a few seconds ago. There was a car at the gate…”
“Fuck,” Nikolai mutters. “Why didn’t the guys at the gate warn us? Unless…” He looks at me, dread filling his expression. “You don’t think…?”
I grimace. I don’t want to believe that anybody betrayed us, but the truth is that despite my best efforts to clean house, some of the men are still loyal to Petrov, not me.
“Text Yura, tell him and Sierra not to come home,” I say. I check the gun to make sure it’s loaded, then I duck behind the kitchen island. “Boris! Do you have?—”
Another gunshot rings out, and I hear Boris scream.
A few seconds later, a new voice answers. “Kostya.”
I grit my teeth, hating how the nickname sounds on his lips. “Roman. What did you do to Boris?”
Nikolai pulls his phone out of his pocket, tapping furiously on the screen. He nods to me, mouthing, Done.
At least Yura and Sierra will be safe. For now.
“Boris is alive,” Roman says, and a scream follows. “Where are you? I thought you would greet us with open arms when we arrived.”
“Nobody told me you were visiting,” I point out. I can hear footsteps approaching, and I curse myself for having thought it was safe to simply eat lunch out in the kitchen. My office has reinforced doors and walls. We would have been able to make a much better stand there.
“ Do I need to call for help? ” Nikolai whispers to me, but he looks as helpless as I feel.
The kitchen door swings open.
“Konstantin,” a very familiar voice says sharply.
My father.
I hang up and put the phone into my pocket, then slowly stand. “Father. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“If you’d paid attention, you would have,” my father responds.
My father is a tall man, with a thick white beard and heavy eyebrows. His lips are curled into mild disdain, an expression I’m more than familiar with. I have been subjected to it for the majority of my life.
Two large men carrying heavy weaponry stand beside him. I have no illusions about being able to take all of them out without dying in the process.
“Why are you here?” I demand.
My father gestures to one of the men, who does a sweep of the kitchen. He spots Nikolai and aims his gun at him. “There’s another one here, Boss!”
Nikolai slowly sets his gun down on the floor beside him, and one of the men stomps over to kick it away from him. Nikolai rises, hands out in surrender, but he—for once—keeps his mouth shut.
My father glances at Nikolai, then looks back at me. He doesn’t think Nikolai is a threat.
“I’ve heard from Petrov and Andronov. You’ve disobeyed my direct orders.” My father steps closer to me and extends his hand. “Your gun, Konstantin.”
I grit my teeth and consider shooting him. He’s so fucking sure I won’t do anything—but Nikolai is right here, and even if I didn’t care what happened to me, I wouldn’t want Nikolai and the others to suffer for my actions.
I hand the gun to my father. He removes the cartridge before tossing the gun onto the floor.
Then he punches me in the jaw. For a man in his sixties, he keeps fit, and I’m sent reeling a few steps.
“Now you will explain why I had to hear from my allies that my orders were being ignored,” my father says with a sneer.
I rub my jaw and glare at him. “I ignored them because I disagreed with them. The flesh trade isn’t a business for us.”
“Disagreed?” my father repeats. “You do not disagree with me, Konstantin. You do as you are told. The flesh trade has been earning us more profits than anything else we’ve done, and the Americans are just as happy to pay for their women as the Russians.”
“Fine. I don’t want to be part of it,” I growl at him. “The business is foul.”
He barks out a laugh. “You have a conscience now? America has turned you soft?”
Not America.
One specific American.
My thoughts go to Sierra, and I’m grateful I allowed her to attend her classes.
The kitchen door swings open again, and Roman enters. The family resemblance between him and my father is uncanny. There are photos of my father in his youth that are near indistinguishable from Roman. Even now, the main difference between them is that Roman still has pitch black hair, and he only has a mustache instead of a full beard.
Roman’s white shirt has several obvious bloodstains on it. I wonder if that’s Boris’s blood, or if I will find more of my men maimed or dead.
“We’ve secured the mansion,” Roman says to my father. His eyes flicker to Nikolai, and he frowns. “Where’s the other one? The brat who sucks on your teat?”
He never did like Yura. I think he’s jealous that none of his men will ever be so loyal to him as Yura is to me.
“I don’t know,” I respond, which could almost be true. After all, if he and Sierra listened to Nikolai’s instructions, they’ll have gone into hiding by now.
My father makes an annoyed sound. “So the manor isn’t secured after all.”
Roman flinches at the accusation, but he recovers quickly. “He’s not on the premises. We would have found him.”
The door swings open again, and I glare at the intruder. Nikolai inhales sharply when we see who it is: Vasily Bacurin, Nikolai’s father. He’s dressed much better than the last time I’d seen him, although his eyes still have the sunken qualities of a drunkard.
Vasily gives Nikolai a disappointed look. “You idiot.”
“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere,” Nikolai says steadily. “Konstantin is the boss here. Not you.” His eyes flick to my father, and for a second, I think he’s going to say something that’s going to get himself shot. He keeps his mouth closed, though.
Not that it matters. My father sighs and withdraws his gun from its holster. Without any warning, he shoots Nikolai in the arm.
Nikolai cries out, immediately clutching the wound to try to stem the blood.
“I despise backtalk,” my father says, ignoring Nikolai’s pained sounds.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Nikolai says, his voice thick with pain. He manages to sound sincere, but knowing Nikolai, it’s taking everything he has not to get himself shot again in a more critical spot.
“Like I said. Idiot.” Vasily doesn’t seem at all perturbed that his son was shot. “Where’s the woman, anyway?”
My heart races faster, but I keep my mouth tightly shut.
“Woman?” Roman asks. “What woman? The cleaning lady?”
Vasily scoffs. “No! The girlfriend. Unless Kolya was lying about fucking Konstantin’s woman.”
My father and Roman both turn their attention on me.
“You let your woman step out on you?” my father demands. Roman chuckles, like he thinks it’s hilarious.
“There is no woman,” I respond evenly. “If Nikolai is sleeping with someone’s girlfriend, she isn’t mine.”
But Vasily shakes his head. “No, no, there’s definitely a woman. She’s the Winters girl—her father and brothers are why Petrov is in jail now.”
Fuck. Somebody was definitely feeding him information. I should have done a much more thorough purge of my men when I’d taken over for Petrov, but that would have gotten my father’s attention much sooner.
“She’s not Kot— Konstantin’s girlfriend,” Nikolai says stubbornly, and at least the pain in his voice makes it more difficult to hear the lie. “And she doesn’t matter, anyway. She’s just some bitch I like to fuck.”
I wince, because I know exactly how that sounds. If she truly didn’t matter, there would be no reason to protect her.
“So we are missing Konstantin’s bootlicker, and his woman,” my father says. He glares at Roman. “You will find them.”
“Yes, sir,” Roman answers, snapping to attention. He motions at me. “What do we do with them?”
My father makes a dismissive gesture. “Lock them up. We can question them once we know what the situation here is.”
Nikolai glances at me. He wants to say something, I can tell, but I give him a quick shake of the head. He’s already made this worse, and anything he could add would add to the mess.
He grimaces, but he continues to put pressure on the wound on his arm.
“There’s a torture chamber in the basement,” Vasily supplies, grinning at me. “Petrov and I used to get people to talk there.”
That’s the same room Nikolai and I had branded Sierra in. I haven’t used it for torturing since… well, since Sierra.
I swallow the regret at how I’d treated her back then. I love seeing the brand on her, but I hate that she has reasons to fear me.
“All right, brother, time to move.” Roman uses his gun to gesture at me and Nikolai.
Nikolai grits his teeth, but he lets himself be herded toward the door.
We’re almost out the kitchen door when Vasily says, “Their phones.”
Fuck.
I’d hoped they’d forget about those, but for all that the man is a washed-up drunk, he’s still sharp in the ways that matter, apparently.
One of their men steps in close, holding out his hand to Nikolai. Nikolai’s hand comes away wet with blood as he reaches down to grab his phone. He hisses in pain as he takes it out of his pocket and hands it over.
I look at my phone, and at Vasily. I think of everything my father could do with the information in my phone—information I’ve purposefully kept limited, but information all the same.
“Do not attempt anything stupid,” my father says, raising his gun toward Nikolai once more.
I hand the phone to Vasily with an annoyed grunt.
“If you hurt anyone under my protection—” I start, but my father interrupts me with a mocking laugh.
“I already have. And I will do it again and again, unless you start being a dutiful son and obey.” He points to the door. “Now start moving.”
I steel myself and obey, following Nikolai out the kitchen door. There are two men with Roman who start leading us through the mansion. I spot a corpse by the stairwell, a large bloodstain splattered against the wall.
“It will never be enough for him,” I say to Roman.
“What?” Roman digs his gun into my spine. “Shut up and keep walking.”
“It will never be enough for Father. No matter what you do.” I keep walking. One of the men at Roman’s side tenses oddly.
That’s Stepan, I realize. He’d been one of the men I’d personally picked to join the organization. It burns to have him betray me like this.
His movements slow when we get near the door to the garage.
Or maybe he hasn’t betrayed me.
“My relationship with Father is none of your business,” Roman mutters. He steps closer to me.
I brace myself.
Stepan suddenly shoves Roman away from me. Roman shouts, and his gun goes off. The bullet whizzes past me and embeds itself in the wall.
While they grapple, I go for the other guard. He’s focused on Roman and doesn’t notice me until it’s too late. I knock him into the wall, and his hold on his weapon loosens. I try to wrest it away from him, but he manages to hold on and fight me for the gun—until I pull the trigger and catch him in the thigh. He cries out and slumps to the floor, clutching his leg.
“Come on, Nikolai, Stepan,” I say. “We need to get out of here.”
Stepan slams Roman’s head against the wall. Roman cries out and slides to the floor. Stepan kicks Roman while he’s down, and Roman goes still.
We don’t have time to finish the job.
The three of us barrel through the garage door, and gunfire erupts behind us right before I slam the door closed. This will only buy us a few precious seconds. I slam my hand on the button to open the garage doors. They all start to slowly rise up.
“Got the keys,” Nikolai pants as he reaches into his other pocket. “Can’t drive though.”
Stepan grabs the keys from him. “On it.”
We get into the closest car, the large black SUV. Nikolai and I get into the back while Stepan climbs into the driver’s seat. The door to the house opens and somebody aims a gun at us, but Stepan is already flooring it out of there.
“The front gate,” I say, wincing. “The SUV might be able to take it down, but?—”
“Boris is on it,” Stepan says. “It should… yeah, it’s already open.”
Fuck. If they find out Boris helped, they’ll kill him. They’d already tortured him, and I have no clue how he managed to rig this before they’d gotten to him.
I turn my attention to Nikolai, whose arm is still bleeding. I rummage under the seat in front of me for the first aid kit. It’s small, but it has gauze and bandages.
“I’ll patch you up until we can find a real doctor,” I say to Nikolai.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll be fine. Hurts like a bitch, but hey, now I’ll have another sexy scar.” The joke is half-hearted, especially since he’s staring out the window. “We are so fucked, aren’t we?”
I glance back at the mansion. They aren’t giving chase, but I assume tending to Roman is more important. My father has my phone anyway, and all of my cash, my files, my weapons.
“Yeah. We’re fucked,” I answer.