Chapter 18 Nadir
NADIR
I have my heirs and I didn’t even need to raise a finger to get them. I just needed to fuck Jess six years ago on a plane to Miami.
I jump in the car waiting outside for me, starting this beautiful morning the right way with a coffee from the canteen at Sterling, which the ladies have already prepared for me.
“Enjoy your day, Nadir,” they say with huge grins on their faces.
“Thank you.”
I stumble into Leon on route to the elevators, the documents in his hand crashing to the floor. He reaches down stiffly to collect them.
“Top of the morning to you,” he says as he stands.
“Yes,” I say. “Good morning. Nice to see you at work bright and early on this wonderful Monday morning.” I keep looking at him pointedly. “No sleeping past your alarm this morning?”
“Not when another one of our men was killed last night. You’ll be happy to know that Maureen escaped during the attack.”
Good. There’s no way I can go through life without her lasagna. Or her emptying the dishwasher every morning. That has to be the most tedious task in the world, even more boring than washing dishes by hand when I was a kid.
“What else is new?”
To answer my own question—a lot. But I will not be telling Leon about those children being mine.
Blyat, I thought I was going crazy. I knew Charlie looked familiar. Willow too.
Leon reports, “Nothing, as of now. Taro is choosing to remain behind the scenes. The guards reported no suspicious behavior last night. They’re already bored out of their minds, by the way, and are demanding pay rises.”
“Tell them to move on to a better job,” I say. “I’ll bet my testicles they don’t find anything better.”
“Don’t be so quick to bet on those.” Leon hitches an eyebrow, a snide look on his face. “Not when Jess is living in your apartment.”
If he’s looking for a reaction, I’ll give him one.
I drag him by the collar into the elevator and shove him into the glass. People don’t care here when physical fights break out. Finance really brings out the worst in people.
I’ll knock Leon out if that’s what it takes to keep Jess’s name out of it.
“I’m right. There is something going on between you.” He notes my hand, still gripping his collar, and shoves me off. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
My ribs feel like they’re getting closer to my chest with every breath I take. “I told you to stay out of my business.”
“And I told you I’m your right-hand man.”
“Who I can fire before the day’s done if I want to.” I shoot him a look from the other side of the elevator as we ride up to my floor. “Be. Careful.”
“I’m your only friend. You wouldn’t do that.”
“We’re acquaintances. Not friends.”
“That’s not the impression I got when we met in Brooklyn years ago. You said you were relieved to find someone like me in New York. That’s why you placed me as Sterling’s Managing Director—because we had a lot in common.”
That was true. I related to Leon because we’d both left Russia to start a new life.
We were the same age, both eighteen, full of optimism.
We went to a bar one weekend, and he was telling some chick about how his entire family had been assassinated.
He flew to the States because he was being hunted.
I didn’t quite know what to make of that story. Still don’t. Leon doesn’t strike me as the victim type. I wouldn’t have hired him as Sterling’s. Managing Director or otherwise.
“I never knew you didn’t have family,” he says.
“That’s because we never went into detail about each other’s life.”
Leon narrows his eyes. “Were they killed?”
“Yes.” I keep my responses clipped. “By me.”
He frowns. “You shot yourself in the foot.”
“I had my reasons, as I’m sure you can understand.”
He studies my face, eyes flicking between each of mine, like he’s struggling to understand. Makes me think that story he told the girl in the bar was true after all.
“Let’s just say it doesn’t bode well for us being under attack. You could use all the heirs in the world, especially at the moment with Jess staying.”
“Keep her name out of your mouth.”
Leon steps in. “Why are you talking to me like I’m the enemy, bratan?”
My ribs tighten.
Gunshots tearing through the night.
Anastasia dead on the ground.
“You’ve done more than fuck her,” Dimitri says as I hold her close.
The elevator dings, and Leon slides out, but he doesn’t want to drop the conversation. I’d like to spend the rest of my day in peace, but he invites himself into my office and takes a seat.
“I didn’t ask you to sit.”
“I’m seeing a different side of you, bratan.” Leon analyzes me with a pensive look on his face. “You’ve never come to a woman’s defense like this before. She must mean something to you.”
I clench my hand into a fist under the desk. “You’re toying with my last nerve.”
“Because I keep bringing up Jess?” Leon sighs. “She’s got charisma—I’ll give you that. I’m very selective when it comes to new recruits. Jess stands right out of the crowd.”
My knuckles crack, my fist getting tighter. Jess stands out of the crowd for me. Not for anyone else.
“Where are you going with this, Leon? I don’t have all day to chat.”
“Her line manager tells me she works hard. Her portfolios are more than just up to scratch. She’s increasing our earnings as well as playing up to the business front. She has potential. Don’t do anything to jeopardize that potential.”
“There is nothing between me and Jess,” I say, enunciating each syllable. What part of that doesn’t he understand?
“She could help us defeat Taro.”
“Jess will not be helping us do that.” I head over to the door and usher Leon out. “Jess possesses potential—yes. But she needs to be watched. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Sure, if that’s what you’re calling it,” he says as he takes his leave.
Bastard.
I spend the next few hours monitoring Taro’s movements. He killed one of our assassins. According to the logs, the body is already gone, probably being minced this very second by Taro’s minions. Knowing how foul they are by nature, they’ll probably share the meat for dinner.
I catch Jess at lunchtime in the canteen—her usual location this time of the day. She’s chosen beef tacos instead of German sausage today. A wise choice. The last thing I need is her teasing me. I’m thinking with my cock every time I see her, even if it’s just for a moment.
She’s wearing all black today to stay in disguise. She’s allowed to work as long as she agrees to ride in the cars I arrange for her.
She must enjoy working here. She taps away on her laptop between bites, eyebrows knitted together as she focuses her attention on things that are actually constructive. She needs to stay out of this Kozhikov stuff.
I grab a chicken sandwich and head out, locking myself away in my office. I bite into the sandwich standing up, admiring the view from my window. It’s a spectacular view, but it could use some improvement—Jess naked over my desk.
I sit behind it and my mind starts to wander as I login to my computer.
“One day you’ll understand why it’s so important to raise sons who know how to fight,” my father says, straightening the gun in my hand. I can’t stop it from shaking.
I’m not killing another human being who, in my eyes, has done nothing wrong.
“Man up, son, and do what needs to be done.”
“I’m not sure I want to do this.”
“Pathetic,” he spits. “I’ve spent the last twenty years of my life building a business for you boys, which will set you up for life. And you can’t even pull the bastard trigger.”
It’s more about who’s behind it.
The boy’s one grade above me in school, being used as target practice because he “upset” Dimitri.
Knowing Dimitri, my brother probably threw the first punch.
“We must stare fear in the face every day if we want to become better.” My father adjusts the shotgun in my hand, straightening the muzzle.
I peer anxiously through the finder and watch the boy shiver, tied up to the lamppost.
We’re in the middle of winter and he’s been forced to wear a T-shirt. Snow is everywhere, covering the streets, the rooftops. More is falling from the sky, and the flakes are getting bigger.
A cold wind blows through the street. I think there’s a blizzard tonight. That’s what it said in the newspaper. Father tore the paper from my hands when he caught me reading, and threw the pages into the fire.
“Killing teaches you more than reading,” he said.
The best assassins start murdering from an early age. Some learn how to hold a gun before they know how to read.
“Do you want to be weak for the rest of your life?” he asks, pulling me close. “Do you want to live the same, dull lives as the people in your grade?”
I shake my head to both questions.
“Didn’t think so,” he says. “Shoot.”
I stare at the boy’s terrified face, knowing he dies either way.
One way I lose and let my father think even less of me. The other way I show him what I’m worth. The boy dies either way. He’ll not make it through the night if the blizzard hits, so I’m doing him a favor by putting him out of his misery.
I hold the gun between my shaking hands and shoot. The bullet rips through the atmosphere like thunder. I stable the weapon, shocked by how much recoil there is.
But I missed. The bullet went into his thigh instead, and now he’s yelping out in pain.
“Again,” says my father. “We don’t stop until he’s dead.”
“Nadir!” Charlie shouts the moment I make it home that evening.
My ribs hurt like hell as I bring him into a hug.
“Evening, bud.”
The girls fly over, and suddenly I have all of them in my arms, each one begging for my attention.
“You should see how many snails Charlie had in his hand today,” Willow says.
“Willow and Iris were screaming,” Charlie laughs in response.
I smile as bittersweet feelings pass through me.
Blyat, this is why I never wanted kids.