Chapter 25 #2
Unlocking the roller door, I find Larisa where I left her. Although, she’s as dead as a fucking doornail. The dry white foam around her mouth is a telltale sign she killed herself. I can’t be fucking bothered to figure out how she did it; there’s a handful of ways to conceal a lethal dose.
On my way out, I hit the start button for the industrial fan, in case there’s any noxious fumes lingering.
By the looks, though, she’s been dead long enough for her not to be toxic.
But just in case, I unlock the locker we use as a temporary office and change the suit I’m wearing.
Dropping my clothes at the door for the cleaners to get rid of, I’m back on the road in minutes.
Not at peace but not disappointed, either.
The drive from the city to the port passes quickly as I call my contacts. Sergey loathes how I include the shyestyorkas as part of my way of staying in the loop. He thinks these associates are too low level to be of use; I think he’s been top of the pyramid too long.
I’m only just out of my car, Nalla’s still doing a sweep of the warehouse, when he arrives. Only his driver is with him.
He climbs out of the car wearing his favorite suit.
“What are you worried for?” I ask, nearing him with my arms open for an embrace.
He does the same. His scent wraps around me as he holds me close, not saying anything. I can’t see in his eyes to get a read of his mood, and he’s surprisingly quiet. It doesn’t happen often anymore, but tonight there’s affection in his touch. “Brother.”
I pull back to get a better read of him. He’s not usually so sentimental, and I get a better understanding of where he is coming from by the dilation of his pupils.
“You had a good time in Saint Petersburg?”
He claps me on the back. “Very good. The sample of what Victor promised was delivered. It is good.”
“Tell me about it.” I lead him away from his driver. Probably unnecessarily, considering Sergey and his girls would have been talking freely on the way back. Not about everything, but enough.
“Do you remember the MDMA from London?”
“How could I forget?” I smile pleasantly, not showing a single hint of emotion.
Although, I am entitled to being more than fucking angry at my brother.
We’d flown to London after Christmas, my mother wanting us to see the lights in Oxford Street during school break.
My brother had spent his nights sneaking out to nightclubs after she’d gone to bed, returning before dawn, then making us wait for him to wake up in the afternoon before we could do all the touristy things she’d planned.
He’d ruined our holiday, then he’d placed a thousand tabs of pure MDMA in my luggage.
I only got off the charges because my father was blackmailing the Russian Ministry of Police.
The beating I got from my father for bringing shame to our family created the first crack between me and Sergey.
He could have stepped up and admitted the truth, but instead, he stood there, consoling my brokenhearted mother while my father threw me at the burning fireplace.
I was lucky I didn’t fall into the fire and only split my cheek on the edge of the hearth and ruined the vision in that eye.
I hide my reminiscing from Sergey with ease. He doesn’t even notice the tension in my body as he drops his arm over my shoulder. “So, it’s better than that?”
Sergey barks a loud laugh and stumbles a little as we walk through the warehouse.
“Much. Longer high, cleaner buzz. And you want to fuck? It’s almost like you can’t stop.
You don’t want to fuck? Well, that’s just as good because you don’t get the choice.
It will be good for the ones that Olga has found for us.
Not everyone gets off on struggle.” He snickers at his obvious jab.
I can feel the frantic pulse of his energy, and I take a step away from him, in case he decides he wants someone else under the influence like he is. I don’t need more reasons to dislike my brother.
“Are you going to be okay to do this?” I ask, carefully.
Sergey scoffs, shaking his head at me. His chemical high turns as quickly as his mood does, disdain pouring off him in waves.
He must realize it too. One second, he’s looking at me like he’d like to see me dead at his feet, and the next he’s lunging playfully at me, his laughter overly loud and forced.
I jump backward, narrowly missing the swing of his palm—to my bad side.
“Look at you, brother, eyes of an eagle always on the watch.” He grins maliciously as he rights himself. And then he chuckles again, not bothering to hide the malice in his eyes; he only changes his expression once he knows he’s inflicted the damage he intended. “Bad choice of words, perhaps?”
“I think we need to get some food and coffee for you. We’ve got half of Russia waiting to talk business with you tonight.”
“No one is coming to talk. It’s my bachelor party, and that means we’re throwing a party to end all parties. And you have no excuses for not being there and partaking.”