Chapter 32 #3
Burt’s sociopathic driver walks around us, Ernest’s corpse wrapped in a tarp and thrown over his shoulder. Ah. Nice. They’re taking it with them. Less cleanup on our end. The body thumps as it’s thrown in the trunk.
“You’re young, so you’ll probably fuck this up.
But Pavel was well-respected and well-liked.
” Burt is not smiling anymore, all of his convivial joy diminished.
“You’re only alive today because he’s your father.
Understand that? Next time there’s an issue, you come to the family immediately. Five conditions before New Year’s.”
“Anything,” Alexei agrees, arms folded, relaxed and rich looking in a way I haven’t seen from him in a while. He looks expensive and impervious. The mob, eh. Just some cranky Borisov brethren. No big deal. The cigar leaks gray smoke as he holds it clutched in two gloved fingers.
“Find the rat. Pay what you owe. Take out the realty tycoon. Expose the double-crossing mayor, so we can pin this entire mess on him.” Burt steps toward Alexei, getting way too close to his face.
He’s far surpassed my husband’s space buffer.
Doesn’t matter. Alexei doesn’t show any sign that he’s affected.
None at all. “Get that money back—and then we’ll give you the company.
Think your contacts can handle all that? ”
If you consider he’s making fun of Bohnes with that statement, it comes across as ludicrous.
There’s an insult in those words that I can’t let go of.
“We’ll take care of everything. Don’t you worry your pretty head about it.
” I curve a sassy hand against the small of my back, smoking my cigar with the other.
The breeze stirs the naked branches of deciduous trees, rustling them against the heavy, full boughs of evergreens.
A crow calls its displeasure from the roof of the house, odd and out of place in the wan sunlight. Eerie.
Several others take flight, circling above us. Bohnes told me once that crows and ravens (corvids, I guess) circle wounded animals, trying to get the attention of bears or wolves. Leading them to easy prey so they can share in the spoils.
I need to take the advice of the crows. I will lead the family to these wounded animals and share the carrion.
“Since we didn’t get much notice, we couldn’t throw you kids an engagement party. Instead, let’s have a little pre-wedding reception, shall we? I’ll text you the time and place.” Burt doesn’t have to add be there or be square. We get it. “And you.”
He points directly at Ash this time, a move that agitates Widow more than it does Ash.
“If it helps you accomplish your goals, show that pretty face around town, Kelly. After these conditions are met, you’ll live like you’re dead and be grateful for it.” Burt reaches out and squeezes Alexei’s shoulder, like they’re close. “You do as you’re told, I’m outta your hair. You don’t, eh.”
Alexei manages to hold his disgust at bay, shaking the man’s bare hand with a gloved one.
“Tell Uncle he’s a gracious man, for giving me such a chance.” Alexei smiles, and it cracks the ice in his eyes, turning his expression jagged. Threatening. He’s reaching his limit. “I’ll be sure to make Papa proud.”
He’s going to be in the shower for the rest of the day.
In…a shower here? My eyes shift to the house.
The mansion. Not even a cruddy McMansion, but the real deal.
Ten-thousand square feet? Bigger? And that’s not to mention the (LOL) ‘guesthouse’ we were just in.
That’s gotta be five-k square feet on its own.
I don’t look behind us at the garage. Are the cars still in there? If they are, does that mean… Bugatti.
Me, legally married to the person who owns that Bugatti and all of this shit. This compound. This mansion.
I may actually be drooling, but I also can’t count my chickens until after I butcher them. Or however that phrase is supposed to go. Can’t…count my chickens until they hatch.
“Scarlett.” Burt tips his hat, mischievous brown eyes shifting to Widow.
He reaches out, slaps my fuckboy on the arm, too.
That’s when the air changes for me. My hand almost darts to my knife before I force calm into my veins.
If accepting a dash of humiliation and threat keeps us alive, then fine.
But I don’t like it. “Welcome to the family, Adrian.”
Burt slaps Widow a second time, garnering little more than a blink out of my lover before the mobster turns and stalks across the gravel to the shiny 1959 Facel Vega.
Classic fucking mob car. It’s ghastly with its white and black and chrome exterior. Cream-colored rims, like marble. Cannot get enough of those suicide doors or the bright red leather interior. I want it.
Burt slides into the backseat, his creepy driver shuts the door, and off they go.
The rest of Burt’s men withdraw, a half-dozen vehicles and footsteps in the woods.
Do I believe Burt’ll be showing up to all our major events, watching me and Alexei play mobster like it’s theater?
Yep.
I imagine he’ll be impressed with what he finds. If we take on the tasks they give us and execute them perfectly, if we pay them plenty of money, we could retire from the mob someday. Just like Pavel wanted. I exhale, gray smoke curling in the suddenly dead air.
The breeze and the crows have stopped.
We’re alone here, I think.
I can hear Bohnes (which means he wants me to hear him) making his way toward us from the edge of the woods. The wind picks up again at his arrival, stirring his white hair as he joins us in the natural circle we’ve formed on the driveway.
“We’ve been given an extension.” Alexei exhales, putting his fingers to his chest and closing his eyes. “Thank God.”
“Thank God?” Widow echoes, his voice edging up like it’s going full-tilt toward hysteria. He had the self-control of a woman until about…oh, two seconds ago. He’s like a volcano that needs to erupt. Emotionally. “Thank God? You two were…that was assault. That was fucking assault.”
“That was nothing.” Ash pushes his hood off and coughs, holding out his hand.
Bohnes passes over his sword. Not sure how he got a hold of it in the first place, but…
cute. Ash digs the tip of the sheathed blade into the dirt, spinning it around.
Widow watches him like he’s not convinced of this deep chill. Big ol’ scowl, too.
“New Year’s.” Bohnes folds his arms, glancing over at the house.
“Fine. Let’s have Hype set up the money transfer for the day of the pre-wedding reception.
Wouldn’t that be fun? To stand there and watch it happen to Chet and Jonas in real time, losing all that cash.
” Bohnes sighs, almost romantically, before he meets my eyes.
He can’t hide that nightmarish grin of his.
Normal is filth. Normal is complacency.
We’re only standing here with our lives because we are anything but normal.
Bohnes is positively beaming. In his eyes, a quick fuck on film doesn’t mean shit in terms of underground retribution. The other three? Strangely enough, it’s Widow who’s stressing me out.
Alexei and Ash, the ones who were actually involved in the act, seem to be doing better than him with the day’s insanity.
“If we do what Burt requested, we’ll live happily ever after,” Alexei says conversationally, hands shaking as he stares down at himself like he’s covered in filth. The corner of his mouth is pressed in like he’s struggling to maintain his composure. He wants to scrub his dick again.
“Happily ever after?” Ash echoes, his voice disconcertingly empty.
He appears confused that Burt’s just driven away and left him here with us.
“How in the actual bloody fucking fuck?” He grabs at his hair and yanks on it, his bleeding forearm dripping a single red dot onto his forehead.
I reach out and catch it, licking it off my finger. Ash smiles.
Great. No trauma to unpack there at all. Kidding. But he’s mostly just unsure as to why he’s still breathing. Ash will get over his disbelief soon and be happy about it.
“Let’s do a check of the grounds,” I suggest, studying Widow as he studies Ash. “Look for cams, mics, GPS trackers, men in cupboards or under stairs. Attics. Outbuildings.”
Widow takes off first, heading straight for the Stingray.
“I’ll drive down and check on the gate.” He opens his car door as I rush forward to join him on the other side, getting in and slamming my own door shut before anyone can stop me.
Widow just stares at me.
“Drive.”
There’s no reason to argue with me, so he doesn’t. He’s learning.
I dial my besties as he starts the car.
“Please tell me you’re alive,” Bastian whispers, answering my video call from Nisha’s phone. They’re both right there, waiting on pins and needles to see if we did the impossible. We survived the mob. The mob. We walked out of a meeting with the mob.
Not because of anything we did tonight. Because of what we’ve been doing. Trusting my instincts.
“Better than that. I’m rich. Get your asses over here. I’ll text the addy. Bring all the girls.”