Chapter Thirteen
In which raining down vengeance can be very satisfying.
Alexsey…
The girl's impromptu wine and cheese fest - and based on all those flushed faces, minus the cheese - rapidly winds down. Dmitri and Ava head home, cradling baby Lev.
With the supernatural radar he has for anything to do with my mother, Father must have heard about the confrontation, because he is at Roman and Violet's house in minutes, with a jaw tight enough to crack a walnut.
He kisses Mother fiercely. Public displays of affection are not traditionally in his wheelhouse, but it's been that kind of night.
He barely looks at Roman and me before he grunts, "Clean yourselves the fuck up. "
Violet hustles her sisters upstairs, and Allegra goes home with Ella and Maksim.
There was a low conversation between her and my wife that I didn't quite catch, and then it's just the two of us.
Liria looks at me, completely unfazed, even though I'm making a mess of the tiled mudroom in the back of Roman's house.
There is a bathroom here with a good sized-shower that we use for cleaning up after dirty jobs.
Without a single flicker of expression, she says, "I guess I will see you back at your house, then." She turns, obviously eager to make space between us.
"Wait." Liria pauses, shoulders tight, and my tone must have come out more commanding that I meant it to be.
Sounding like her father, maybe. "I'm not comfortable with that showdown tonight with Krasniqi," I say.
"Give me a moment to shower and look less like I've been butchering a hog and we'll go together. "
Liria turns her head to give me a little puzzled glance, then nods politely, heading into the kitchen. Why did I want her to wait? She has three perfectly capable bodyguards.
I didn't like the idea of Krasniqi - that piece of shit - circling the city like a buzzard, looking for prey like Liria.
An image hits me of her struggling to get into the loft as her father's forces surround her.
It makes me slam my fist into the tiled wall of the shower, my knuckles split and bleed.
Shit, I think. I only have one of these left. I should probably be more careful with it.
I rinse my hand off under the shower, watching my own blood disappear down the drain with the blood of the others whose lives I've taken tonight.
Every fucking one of them deserved it.
The mission went like clockwork; we swooped in, overpowered the crew, stole the drones, along with twelve cases of long-range military rifles, and the cargo was safely stored in one of our unregistered warehouses in less than an hour.
The bloody moment hit when we found out they'd also kept five women in the hold of the cargo ship, naked, shivering, terrified. Roman called in the crew that we have for dark discoveries like these, a female doctor and some of our women who are trained to work with trafficking victims.
And then, Roman and I beat the crew to death. It turns out that I can take human life just as easily with my right hand as I did with my left.
Tolya joined in, of course. He would never have forgiven me if he didn't get his pound of flesh. We systematically dismantled each piece of shit until there was nothing left but chunks of bone and skin. The rest of the crew wailed for mercy, forced to watch until it was their turn.
We saved the captain for last.
Krasniqi pretends - on the surface - to despise human trafficking. However, he's a bloodthirsty fucker and the speed with which he delivered his only remaining child to the enemy, tells me human life is only another transaction to him. So no, Liria would go home with me.
Roman corners me in the kitchen when I'm clean and dressed.
I can hear the little murmur of Violet and Liria in the living room.
Violet has charmed Liria out of her horror from the ugly confrontation with Krasniqi.
She's making Liria laugh, from the snippets I can hear, it's about something involving spiked heels.
"Krasniqi is going to be a problem," he says, leaning against the counter.
He's tossing a blood orange from hand to hand, and I watch the graceful arc as he catches it.
He catches the orange the way he catches his knife, without looking at it.
Knowing, almost supernaturally, its placement in time and space and somehow, I just want to punch him in the throat for it.
Roman, tossing an orange with his two fucking useful hands.
"So it seems," I agree. "He'll attempt to assert dominance in his pathetic, withered way until he finally drops dead. We could make that happen sooner than later if he turns into a problem."
Roman puts the orange back in the bowl, and I'm glad I don't have to watch him any longer. "He was so conciliatory in the beginning," he says, "more focused on protecting his legacy. The reality of signing everything over last night must have hit him harder than he expected."
The women' s laughter gets louder. The conversation has moved on to whether it was a Valentino, or a Louboutin. Both choices seem to make them laugh even harder.
"I'm taking Liria's mother out of his control," I decide, flexing my sore fingers. "We'll tell him to remove all the guards from her Boston house, and I'll call Jack MacTavish to set up a security team for her from our people there."
Roman folds his arms, eyeing me with surprise. "Well, that's more generous than I expected from you."
Shrugging, I pick up his abandoned orange and peel it.
I'm learning to hold an item in my palm and use my thumb to twist or manipulate, and the orange peels obligingly for me, revealing the ruby red fruit.
I pop a slice in my mouth before answering him, because I enjoy making Roman wait.
He has the attention span of a toddler and I know it's killing him.
"It would reflect badly on us as she was harmed or he did something to her in retaliation.
There's no reason for his assholes to be nosing around her house. "
"I'm sure Liria will be very grateful that you're looking after her mother's safety," he says carefully. "It's very clear she’s protective of her mother. She was planted in front of Allegra when that fucker's cane came up."
I recall the sight, crystal clear. Liria's thick fall of black hair, swishing against her shoulders as she turned, stepping in front of her mother, arms spread out as if she could physically block her father's malevolence.
Her hands were shaking, I remember that.
But she still stood there, teeth bared, like she was ready to take a bite out of him.
Nah. He'd be too stringy.
"I have to take her home," I say, angry with my soft moment.
"Join me tomorrow. I'm going to show off those drones to Dmitri and watch him wither with jealousy that he wasn't there.
" I check on Violet and Liria, they're still lounging on the couch, heads together and laughing.
"Did you get a call from Dr. Miller yet? "
His expression sobers, "A text, saying she'll have a full report tomorrow. I know she's calling in Mother for a consultation on one of the girl's injuries."
"We should have taken more time," I say. "Though there is always torment to be rained down upon the unworthy."
"Speaking of which, I'm impressed you kept him alive that long," Roman says. "Take your bride home."
"Bride infers some kind of celebration," I say coldly. "There is nothing to celebrate here."
"What about the re-wedding in St. Petersburg?" he asks. "You and Liria could have a joint celebration with me and-"
"There's nothing to celebrate," I cut him off. "Goodnight."