Chapter 11 Vadim
VADIM
Four days after Milo? Popovi? beat me half to death, I'm back on the streets taking care of business. My ribs are a gnarly color of dark purple that has started to go yellow around the edges, and Danica won't stop insisting that I should be staying home to recuperate—just like a real wife would.
Except we've done nothing but fight since that night we slept together.
She snaps at me for leaving clothes on the floor.
I snap back when she uses all the hot water.
But at night when we climb into bed, she curls into me and I hold her until we both fall asleep.
That's the part I enjoy the most—holding her in the quiet hours when she's not angry with me or nagging me.
I can't say I ever wanted to do that with someone, but now that I am, I can honestly say I don't think I want to sleep alone ever again.
I turn the corner onto Makedonska Street where Jovan and Nenad are working, standing near a parked car talking to two buyers.
The exchange looks routine enough, but I hang back and watch before approaching.
After losing Boris, we aren't taking any more chances.
Popovi? and his men really did a number on us, and my men are less confident now, edgy—always watching over their shoulders.
Jovan sees me first and jerks his chin upward in greeting. The buyers hand over cash, and Nenad counts it quickly before passing them a small package wrapped in brown paper. They pocket it and walk away without looking back. It's a successful sale, though we can't be too careful now.
"How much?" I ask as I stop in front of Jovan and hold out my hand.
"Fifteen hundred euro." He pulls the bills from his jacket and hands them over.
I count through the money and check a few bills for counterfeits.
Everything looks clean, so I fold the stack and tuck it into my inside pocket.
But the confidence is short-lived as we hear car doors slam and turn to see two police cruisers at the curb with their lights flashing.
My hand moves toward my gun automatically, but I force it back down.
Running will only make them give chase, and I'm smart enough to know by now that this is just Popovi? fucking with me.
Back in Russia, I never had this much trouble.
Cops just don't care about petty sales going down like this.
what they want is the big shark, the head dealer—the guy I get my shit from back home.
The fact that I'm being harassed by cops so much tells me the corrupt politician knows my moves ahead of time and he's setting me up for failure.
It's better to stay here and spin a believable story than to run and make myself look guilty.
"Stay calm," I tell the men in a low tone. "Let me handle this."
Four cops approach with their hands resting on their tasers. The one in front is older with gray hair and tired eyes. He speaks first. "Good evening, gentlemen. Can I ask what you're doing here?"
"Hello, officer, my friends and I were just selling my car." I gesture toward the street where no car is parked. "We met the buyer here to complete the transaction."
"Do you have paperwork for the sale?" the second one asks, eyeing me and glancing around as if by some miracle he will make my already sold vehicle manifest itself.
"Ah, no, sorry. It was a cash transaction." I pull the money from my pocket and show him. "The buyer already left with the car."
"That's a lot of cash to be carrying." The officer steps closer as he narrows his eyes on me and then asks, "Do you have identification?"
I reach slowly for my wallet and pull out my passport and visa documentation.
He takes them and studies each page carefully while the other cop pulls Jovan and Nenad to the side to speak to them.
I glance at them, but I can't look too worried.
Keeping my poker face is the best move. I don't want to get into a shootout with cops.
"Russian citizen?" The officer looks up. "What brings you to Serbia?"
"Tourism, mostly." I meet his eyes without blinking. "And a wedding… I met someone."
"Your visa expires in nineteen days." He hands back my documents. "When do you plan to return home?"
The question confirms what I suspected. Milo? sent them here. This isn't a random patrol. This is harassment. As far as he knows, I've done nothing wrong at all. I'm merely standing on a street corner with my friends. I'm gonna make Popovi? pay for this.
"I actually applied for temporary residency." I tuck my passport back into my jacket. "My wife is Serbian and we're very happy here."
The officer's eyebrows rise. "You're staying?"
"Yes, I told you I got married." I pull out my phone and show him a photo of the marriage certificate. "Isn't my wife beautiful?" I flick to a photo I took of Danica while she was eating breakfast one morning this week. It's not extremely flattering, but I'm glad I have it.
He examines the photo and hands my phone back. "What's your wife's name?"
"Danica Petrovi?-Gravitch." We never discussed if she'll take my name, but hyphenating the two makes sense and lends credibility, in my opinion. "She's at work right now."
The officer makes a note in a small pad. "And where do you live?"
I give him the address and watch him write it down. My skin is crawling but I keep my expression bored and annoyed. My men look annoyed too, and I wonder what sort of questions they're being asked.
"This is a dangerous neighborhood for cash transactions." The officer closes his notepad. "You should be more careful. Robbery's common here, especially after dark."
"I'll keep that in mind." I nod toward the phone. "Thank you, Officer. We aren't sticking around."
The man eyes me warily and then says, "Maybe you should call your wife to pick you up. We'll wait to make sure you get picked up safely."
This prick is really pushing my buttons, but I can't seem to get annoyed with him. I clench my jaw and nod at him before I pull my phone out and dial Danica's number. She answers on the fourth ring with a nasty tone and she sounds rushed.
"What is it?"
"I need you to bring a cab to Makedonska Street." I turn away from the officers. "Near the corner with Kneza Milo?a."
"I'm working." Her tone could cut glass. "Call someone else."
"The police are here and they want me to call my wife." I lower my voice. "Come get me right now."
There's a long pause as she thinks this over, and the wise girl she is she huffs and grunts, "Fine. Give me twenty minutes."
She hangs up, and I turn back to the officers and give them my best apologetic smile. "She's on her way."
The older officer nods and moves back to confer with his colleague. They talk in Serbian too fast for me to follow, but I catch enough to know they're discussing whether to search us. After a few minutes, they decide against it.
I lean against the car and pull out a cigarette.
The message from our enemies is clear—they want me out of Serbia, and it's not because of my petty drug dealing to make money.
Popovi? knows we're getting close and he's getting antsy.
I'm shocked he let me live to give Yuri the message when he could've killed me.
But I'm not leaving. Not until Andrei is dead and Dominic's murder is answered.
Twenty minutes crawls by and the officers sit in their car and watch us the whole time. After a while, I send Nenad and Jovan on their way while I finish my cigarette and light another one, but this is getting ridiculous. My car is parked two blocks away.
A cab finally pulls up and Danica climbs out, wearing her work uniform, and her hair is pulled back. Her face is tight with anger when she sees me with the police.
"Vadim." She crosses her arms and scowls at me in such a womanly way, it almost makes me chuckle. I wonder if it's an act, but who knows with this woman. "What did you do?"
"Nothing." I drop my cigarette and crush it. "I was selling a car."
"In this neighborhood?" She looks around. "At this hour?" Her hands fly up in the air as she speaks.
She's playing her part perfectly even though she has no idea what's really happening.
"The buyer wanted to meet here." I shrug and walk toward her. "It's not a big deal."
"It is a big deal when I have to leave work." She turns and gets back into the cab. "Let's go."
I follow her into the back seat and pull the door closed. The driver asks where we're going and Danica gives him our address. As we pull away, I look back and see the officers watching us leave.
Danica doesn't say anything until we're several blocks away. Then she turns to me and her eyes are blazing. "What the hell was that?"
"A complication." I stare out the window and scowl at the fact that I now have to walk halfway across town to get back to my car and pick it up. "Nothing I can't handle."
"The police were there." She lowers her voice. "Were you actually selling drugs?"
"Why does it matter? This isn't real, remember?"
"Don't bullshit me." She grabs my arm and forces me to look at her. "I'm not stupid."
I meet her eyes and see fear under her anger. She's starting to understand how dangerous this could become.
"It was a misunderstanding." I pull my arm free. "The cops thought we were doing a drug deal but we weren't." I don't owe her any explanation at all, and I don't intend to give one.
"Then why did they make you call me?" She's not buying it. "Why did they wait with you?"
"Because this is a bad neighborhood and they wanted to make sure I got out safely." I turn back to the window. "That's all." If I told her they have a corrupt deputy on the payroll and that he's pulling strings to put heat on me, she'd flip out.
Danica glowers the rest of the way to my house, sitting with her arms folded over her chest while staring at passing traffic. But she's the least of my worries.
If Popovi? keeps doing what he's doing now, I'll be forced out of the country for my drug dealing before I even get a chance to commit the murder I need to handle.
I have to figure out a way around this shit situation I'm in.
I thought things would go more smoothly now with more time to handle my business, but it appears things are only getting trickier. Yuri isn't going to like this at all.