Chapter 53
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
ANTON
When I arrive at Krystal with these two idiots, I get straight to business.
“This is where we keep the record of who owes what.” I open the safe in the basement and show them the logbook, though it’s far from the only copy. “They get one chance to pay. You rough them up enough to scare them, and if they still don’t pay, the next visit is the last.”
“That’s easy.” Arkady shrugs.
His gaze cuts to the man tied to a chair in the middle of the room, groaning through the blood dripping down his chin while fear clouds the baby blues of his eyes.
“How much fun can I have with this one?”
“As much as you want without getting caught. When you’re done, you burn him in the incinerator through there.” I point to the black double doors behind me.
“I like it.” He unbuttons his shirt and carefully drapes it over the back of a chair before picking up a pair of brass knuckles from the bar top. “These are nice.”
The man starts shaking his head, trying to speak around the gag in his mouth.
Arkady examines the brass knuckles with appreciation before slipping them on. “Where did you get these?”
“Craigslist.”
He chuckles just as he slams his fist into the man’s jaw, breaking it on impact.
The idiot screams, crimson spilling down his chin and onto his shirt.
Arkady pulls back and hits him again and again, each punch landing with ugly force until the chair rocks against the concrete floor and the man’s cries turn into strangled sounds that barely resemble words.
What else does one expect when he racks up five hundred thousand in debt and has nothing to show for it?
Arkady circles him with blood on his knuckles, a grin on his face while Mikhail watches, his fist clenching and unclenching, probably wanting to join in. But this is a one-man job. Mikhail will get the next one.
Arkady drives another punch into the man’s face, beating him until there’s nothing left. When the svolich drops his head forward, Arkady grabs him by the hair and yanks it back.
“No sleeping yet. We’re still getting to know each other.”
The man whimpers something incoherent, and Arkady slaps him on the cheek.
“Yes, I know. I like you too.” He hits him again, the brass causing his skull to cave in beneath the blow.
I check my watch. “I think you’re done now.”
“Ladno.” He throws in another punch before Mikhail starts toward him to help move the body.
I walk to the back door and enter the code, and once it unlocks, I keep it open so they can carry him through, leaving a red trail across the floor that someone else will clean.
The incinerator waits at the far end of the room, and I flip it on and open it. They swing the body up and toss it inside. The second it hits the metal, I close it, watching as the fire swallows what’s left.
Arkady wipes blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. “Well, that was easy. We can handle this.”
I’m so happy for them…
“Is there anyone else for today?” Mikhail asks.
“No.”
“Maybe next time.” Arkady slaps a palm on his brother’s chest, amusement fitting over his features.
Ever since they were little, Arkady would always pick on his younger brother, who was born just five seconds after him. Mikhail, of course, has shown how he feels about it…using his fists.
We head back into the main room, and Arkady washes up at the sink by the bar, scrubbing blood away. I open the logbook again, pointing to a few names they’ll have to deal with next week.
“These four are late. This one has been warned, so don’t waste time with him. Make it clean and easy. The other two still have potential if they’re scared enough.”
Mikhail leans over the book. “And if they’re not?”
“Then they burn too.”
He grins. “I’m going to enjoy America.”
A ruckus starts upstairs, voices carrying down through the ceiling, our men speaking over each other. Another voice slips through them, a woman’s voice.
Arkady’s grin returns. “Well, this just got more interesting.”
We head upstairs, following the sound, where one of the guards stands near the entrance with his hands raised, looking torn between dragging the woman out and asking for help.
I don’t see her face at first, only long black hair and a small frame dressed in clothes that look slept in, but she stands her ground in front of one of the guards, a hand on her hip.
“I don’t know who owns this place,” she snaps.
“But I’d like to see the manager because I am sick and tired of your people coming to my house and destroying it.
I don’t know where Chad is. I haven’t seen that son of a bitch in over a week, so if he owes you money, join the damn club, because I sure as hell don’t have it. ”
Mikhail’s face whitens, and he takes a single step toward her.
Arkady’s brows shoot up. “Ne mozhet byt.” It can’t be.
Do they know her?
One of the guards peers over at me for help, but she doesn’t notice. The other guard gives me a look that asks if they should take her out—permanently.
She keeps going, hands flying now, every word angrier than the last. “Are you even listening? Tell your people that if they want to kill me, they can go right the fuck ahead, okay? I’m damn tired of this.
Just do me one freaking favor and do not lay a hand on my daughter, because she’s the only good thing I have in my life. ”
Mikhail freezes.
Whoever the hell she is, she’s either brave or stupid. Maybe both.
She finally notices us, looking from me to Arkady, then to Mikhail. The color drains from her face as her shaky fingers fly to her mouth, but the shock quickly hardens into anger as she focuses on Mikhail.
“I should’ve known you would be involved.” Her words crack as she shakes her head. “Is that why you had my place ransacked? Because you wanted to hurt me?”
I start to tell her they had nothing to do with it, but Mikhail lifts a hand, stopping me as he steps forward, his face set with an intense glare.
“Aster,” he says, his voice too smooth. “It seems you think I have paid you any mind. In fact, until right now, I hadn’t even thought about you.”
He runs a finger up her arm, and her chest jumps with a harsh breath. When he catches it, the edge of his mouth turns up.
“But I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your feistiness.”
She sneers. “Are you the one in charge?”
“Maybe. But it seems your boyfriend is still up to no good.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. He hasn’t been for a long time. So why don’t you and your people leave me alone?” Her body goes rigid as a weary breath leaves her. “You’re scaring the shit out of my daughter.”
Every trace of humor disappears from Mikhail’s face. He closes the distance between them until he’s standing directly in front of her again.
“I didn’t know you had a child.”
“Yes. She’s four.”
His gaze searches her face, sharpening with suspicion. “Is she his?”
Aster straightens, refusing to shrink beneath his stare. “That is none of your business.”
Mikhail crosses his arms, every line of him turning harder. “Maybe. But when your boyfriend owes us half a million dollars, his debt becomes your problem too, vorobushek.” Little sparrow.
“Well, how the hell am I supposed to pay an ungodly amount of money when I can barely cover my rent?” Her hands fly out. “Would you like me to go whore myself out?”
His jaw locks. “How you find the money isn’t my concern. His debt is tied to you, so either you pay it or you work it off.”
We’ve definitely never had that arranged before…
Disgust flashes across her face, her pale gray eyes narrowing as she shoves him in the chest. “You’re vile.”
Mikhail catches her wrist and hauls her against him, leaving barely an inch between them. She glares up at him with enough fury to scorch, but he doesn’t loosen his hold.
“That isn’t what I meant.” His knuckles graze her trembling lips. “Although, now that you mention it…”
“I would never touch you.”
His mouth lowers beside hers, and whatever he murmurs brings a rush of color to her cheeks.
“Come on, brother. Don’t scare the poor woman away.” Arkady steps between them and drops a hand onto Mikhail’s shoulder. “Pay no attention to him. He left his manners back in Russia.”
Then he drapes an arm around Aster, and Mikhail’s entire body goes stiff.
“Come sit down and have a drink. My treat.”
She exhales, exhaustion cracking through it, as Arkady guides her toward the bar.
“So this is your Aster,” I say.
A muscle jumps in his cheek. “She’s not mine.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He says nothing, his irritation fixed on Arkady’s arm around her. She mutters something under her breath, and Arkady laughs as he bends closer to answer.
“I can’t kill her,” Mikhail says.
I happen to know exactly what that feels like.