Chapter 2
two
“Jesus,” Ivan mutters over the comm unit. “I forgot how boring he is. Kirill has barely left the house most of the week. How is he running the city like this?”
Two fucking weeks. That is how long it takes to spread the seed of doubt through Kirill’s men and put together all the information we can on him. I feel like a damn private investigator. Then again, this is what my company does.
I just don’t.
Sitting in a car waiting for hours for someone to make a move or not is not my idea of a good time. That is why I hire others to do it for me. I am a man of action. Not a spy.
“He had a few whores delivered this morning that still haven’t come out,” Dima smirks. “I wouldn’t say he isn’t having any fun. Who would want to leave that? One of them had breasts the size of watermelons.”
Ivan wretches. “I didn’t need that particular image in my head, idiot.”
Dima chuckles.
“Maybe I can grab one on their way out,” he ponders theatrically, tapping his chin. Not that Ivan can see him from his position at the back entrance. What scares me is that he sounds serious. “You know, interrogate them a little.”
Ivan groans dramatically.
“Do you really want to be sticking your dick where he did?” I ask my enforcer who sits next to me in our stake-out car. “You don’t know how many whores he has fucked or what kind of diseases he may have. Used pussy isn’t always good pussy.”
Another groan from Ivan.
“Eh,” Dima shrugs, tipping his hand back and forth undecided. “I’ll risk it. I doubt he stuck it in all her holes. I’ll just utilize the ones he didn’t.”
“Khristos,” Ivan swears. “Gag him, will you?”
I snicker.
“Oh,” Dima lifts his eyebrows. “Someone has a kinky side.”
“Alright, children,” Mark scolds through the video screen. “Don’t make me put you on separate comm lines.”
Dima winks at Mark while Ivan grunts. “Please do. Before I shoot him in the face.”
My enforcer gasps, drawing his hand to his chest like some Shakespearean actor. “Not the face, mudak. It’s my money maker you glupyy malen’kiy gnom.”
“Who are you calling a stupid little gnome, you—”
“Enough.” My voice thrums dangerously inside the car. “For fucks sake. I thought I was supposed to be the younger brother, Ivan?”
Dima sniggers, and I go to round on him next before I am interrupted by Mark’s amused voice. “He’s got a call.”
“Patch it through so we can all hear.”
Silence, a few keyboard clicks, and then the car is filled with ringing.
“Kirill.”
A bolt of hate races up my spine at hearing his voice for the first time after so many years. The man who kidnaped and murdered my mother. Who tossed me on the street without a second thought to further his own greed and need for power.
His voice is hoarse and grating. He coughs, his lungs wet and rattling like a pack-a-day smoker.
“What the hell have you done, Kirill?” The man on the phone line snarls viciously. “How long did you think you could get away with playing me, brother?”
“Our father,” Ivan whispers through the comm line.
“I don’t know what you are talking about, Andrei,” Kirill sounds shocked; panicked.
He didn’t know this was coming. We took everything Libby and Ivan acquired over the years on Kirill’s work and association.
From his involvement in trafficking girls under the Chameleon Agency to his current profit skimming.
Every nook and cranny was swept out from under the rug for Andrei Tkachenko to see.
“Don’t lie to me,” Andrei roars. “This is your last chance, Kirill. I’m flying there to settle this. I gave you one last shot, and you ruined it. Again.”
“It isn’t what it looks like,” Kirill begins. “I swear I had nothing—”
“Are you telling me it is all lies?” Andrei hisses. “Because I am holding some pretty damning evidence.”
“It is fake,” Kirill insists. “Men who want to drive a wedge between us, brother. They know we are stronger together.”
Dima snorts derisively. I agree with him.
The honey-buttered bullshit spewing from Kirill’s mouth is as much amusing as it is frustrating.
There is no doubt in my mind the man will seek to worm his way out of his crimes with Andrei.
Pin them on an unforeseen enemy. Play on his loyalty to him. His help in winning against his father.
It won’t do him any good.
Not this time.
“You better hope so,” Andrei is cold, his tone dropping dangerously as he continues.
“I’m flying down there. You better pray I don’t find any more evidence of foul play, brat.
” The sarcastic edge to the Russian word for brother is not missed.
It seems tension between the two has been riding high for a while.
“You won’t,” Kirill swears. “I promise you that.”
Then the line goes dead.
“Well,” Dima’s brow shoots up. “I expected something a bit more.”
“Don’t go anywhere just yet,” Mark tells us. “He’s making an outgoing call.”
“To where?” Ivan questions. A few more clacks of the keyboard later and he has it.
“Seattle.”
There is ringing and then, “You better be calling for a good reason.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up in awareness at the harsh, feminine voice on the other end. It sounds familiar. Too familiar, but I can’t place where I have heard it before.
“We need to move up the timeline.” Kirill’s voice is shaky, unnerved. He is afraid of this woman, whoever she is. “Someone is working against me. Sending him information.”
“It isn’t my responsibility to clean up your messes, Marius,” the woman hisses. The way she tilts her words tells me she has an accent she is attempting to hide. It is slight and I can’t place it, but one is certainly there.
Where the fuck have I heard this voice before?
“My messes are your mess, Caesar,” he growls. “Remember that. If I lose my position here, we no longer have the foothold we need to the docks.”
Caesar? Marius?
“Fucking Roman general names, really?” Dima mutters beneath his breath. I shoot him a look. He shrugs. “What? I paid attention in school.”
Ivan’s soft laugh filters through the comms.
“Don’t threaten me,” the woman snarls. “If you hadn’t been so careless this wouldn’t be an issue.”
“Just send one of the legionaries.” Kirill sighs heavily. “It must look like an assassination. Otherwise, there will be too much digging when I ascend as leader.”
Ascend. What a pompous asshat.
“And what about your nephew?” The woman questions. “Ivan? He is next in line to inherit.”
Kirill brushes her off. “He is nothing,” he insists. “Nothing but a disgraced outcast who hasn’t been heard from in years. I make sure he appears to be nothing more than a disgruntled son after his father’s money. Andrei cut him off.”
“But he didn’t cut him from his will,” the woman points out. “Or from succession.”
Kirill brushes her off. “It is nothing. He is nothing.”
Or so Ivan let him believe.
“You better hope so, Marius,” the venom dripping from the phone line is obvious. As is her disdain for him. “Otherwise, you might regret what is coming for you.”
“And what is that?”
“Ghosts of the past.”
“All of my problems are dead,” he gloats. “Your legionnaire made sure of that.”
The woman hums. “That may be so, but his wife sure is causing a commotion over here.”
Kirill grunts. “She won’t be a problem for much longer,” he dismisses. “Sulla will make sure of that. He took care of Elias with no problem; he’ll take care of her.”
“We’ll see,” the woman sounds skeptical. “As for your little problem. I’ll send 848 to take care of your little problem. She’s proven to be efficient at taking out unwanted pests.”
“She does it in spectacular fashion for me,” Kirill agrees.
Kenzi. They are talking about sending Kenzi to take out Andrei.
“Get her on the phone,” I hiss at Mark. “Quick.”
Another beat of silence. Another moment of holding our breath, waiting in anticipated suspense for Kenzi to pick up the phone.
Nothing.
“She’s not answering.”
Dima swears.
“Who are you trying to reach?” Ivan questions.
“Kenzi.”
“Ward?” he asks incredulously. “What does she have to do with this?”
Smirking, my forehead raises in mock surprise that my older brother doesn’t know about the remaining Ward twin.
“Guess you didn’t do your research all that well, brother,” I snark.
“Shove it and tell me what you know,” he huffs over the comm line. Dima laughs.
“Kenzi Ward was sold to the Dollhouse by her father,” I tell him. “Convincing everyone that she went to college overseas instead.”
“She told you this?”
“Yes,” I respond. “Originally, she was tasked to kill Ava. Luckily, an old friend of mine had an interest in the Dollhouse as well and had been monitoring certain chatter.”
“The three of them have a strong bond,” Ivan states. “Why would Kenzi willingly kill her sister? The Dollhouse must have known Kenzi wouldn’t follow through.”
“They twisted Libby’s death to make it appear as if Ava and I had her killed.” That organization knows no bounds. “It took some… convincing to get her to see the truth.”
“And you trust her?”
“Yes.” There is no hesitation in my reply.
“Okay.” Ivan takes a deep, calming breath. “What do we do next? If we can’t reach Kenzi and she isn’t aware of what the target means—”
Dima beams.
“We need to make sure Kirill goes down first.” The darkness in his eyes swirls like a hurricane, his pupils dilating at the prospect of shedding blood. Fucking psychopath, that one.
“And how are we going to convince my father that Kirill is the enemy?”
I chuckle darkly.
“I’m going to rise from the dead.”