25 #3
“I won’t let anyone hurt my little princess. And I don’t like the idea of who knows who hanging around you. I’ll have to talk to Lance,” he argues, furrowing his brow.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Better safe than sorry. You start with simple dates and then you end up pregnant. Or even worse, married,” he says, typing something on his computer.
I get up from the couch and go to my bedroom. I don’t even want to imagine the look on his face when I tell him.
I lay down on the bed and dial his number, waiting with my teeth clenched on my lower lip for him to pick up.
He never does. He must be just busy, but that thought doesn’t stop the knot in my stomach.
Believing that the small possibility of him disappearing into thin air again, as he did years ago, is no longer just a possibility.
“This is the sixth one in all this time,” Denis complains, dragging the body until he throws it into a hole in the ground. Then a couple of men scatter dirt over the new corpse I got with the help of Bianca.
I knew why she agreed to be the bait for that French guy. I didn’t care, but now I want nothing else than to lay down her body close to his, beneath the dirt.
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to open a funeral home,” he says, looking closely at the headless Frenchman’s body.
The idiot not only disobeyed me, but he dared to go even further. He thought that because he was the mayor’s son nothing would happen to him. He was clearly wrong. No one is immortal or indispensable.
“Sure, and we’ll send the merchandise in coffins,” Sergei mutters sarcastically behind him.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asks, holding a pale head with open eyes up by the hair.
Parts of his face are bruised and battered from the blows.
Some muscle tendons are hanging from what should have been his neck, dripping fresh blood.
“We can play a game of soccer while they finish burying the body,” Denis offers with a smirk and a hopeful gleam in his eyes.
“Put it in the trunk. I’ll take care of that later,” I say, looking at the head with a look of disgust. It wouldn’t even be good for my collection, so maybe I’d give the remains to my dog or the crocodiles when I get back home.
“How much do you think this is worth on the market?” Denis asks curiously, showing me the corpse’s hand, where there was a ring.
I narrow my eyes at him and shook my head, choosing to ignore his question.
“Are you really planning to sell that?” Sergei asks behind him with a grimace.
“Would you rather we bury it? That would be a waste,” he says to himself and frowns.
Thinking about something. “I’d better give it to my grandma.
I haven’t seen her in a long time,” he finally resolves before pulling the ring off with difficulty, putting it in his pants pocket, and throwing his hand into the hole that’s still filling with dirt.
I head to the main living room as soon as I step in the house. I dodge Polina, who opens her mouth to say something. Lately I’m not interested in talking to her or seeing her more than necessary.
I press my lips into a thin line, discovering a couple of our partners in the living room.
“They’ve screwed up the delivery again,” says one of them. I let out an exasperated sigh and light a cigarette I place between my lips.
“I want you to reinforce all fronts and put more people on finding the damn snitch. I won’t allow another failure,” I murmur exhaling smoke with a stern look.
Everyone leaves after discussing which points we have to reinforce and which cops we will have to bribe for information this time. My father seems to be the only one that doesn’t know when to leave.
“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that Ray got off scot-free and everything got screwed up for us at the last minute?”
“Why should I find it suspicious?” I ask, raising both eyebrows.
“His daughter was also with him.”
“Instead of worrying about what she does, you should be looking for the damn traitor. You’re wasting your time,” I retort on the verge of losing my patience.
He had been watching her after our last conversation, but he wouldn’t dare do anything to her. Perhaps for fear of a war he didn’t want to start or for the sake of staying alive. I know sooner or later he’ll give free rein to his stupidity and make a mistake.
“Watch your back around that girl. All women are whores who are only good for spreading their legs and reproducing. I doubt she’ll be the exception.”
I take a step toward him, feeling my muscles tense. I stop myself from going any further when the gun his bodyguard is holding points at my head.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” I spit through clenched teeth before leaving and slamming the door shut.
I stand in my bedroom patting my pants pocket, wanting to grab my cell phone and check the cameras.
I need to know where she is and if she’s okay.
When I can’t find it my heart skips a beat as I consider the possibility that I might have left it where we buried the damn Frenchman.
It wouldn’t be a problem if I didn’t have all the apps and cameras on it. Fuck.