24. Andrei
Andrei
B lair is skilled in a number of ways.
She can see through bullshit better than anyone I’ve ever met. She always called out Daniil on his, and I can always see it when someone around us is running their mouth just from the way she purses her lips.
She’s also unfailingly loyal to those she cares about.
Even though she hasn’t known Nadya long, I don’t think there’s anything that would get her to turn her back on her.
She was the same way with Daniil, even though he never deserved it.
And now she’s extending that favor to me, both in what she does and doesn’t ask me.
Daniil made a point of not letting her know any particular details of his work, and I can see the way she’s biting her tongue with me, like she isn’t sure if questions would be welcome or not.
But that doesn’t change the obvious shift in the way she’s acted toward me since Pavel died .
Even if I wanted to keep it a secret from her, dangerous men and their women are just as inclined to gossip as anyone else. And the death of the pakhan’s son? That’s too juicy to pass up.
From the way she’s warmed up to me, I have a feeling Blair knows I had something to do with it. She doesn’t ask, but she also doesn’t seem offended by it. If anything, it’s the opposite.
The one skill that Blair lacks?
She has no poker face.
My phone rings on the table next to me, but I steadfastly ignore it while she practically stabs at her dinner, hand clenched on her knife hard enough that I’m starting to get a little nervous. I silence the call again, but even Niko is giving me side-eye.
I know she doesn’t want phones at the table. She wants to have some part of our day where there’s no demands from anyone else, and we’re focused on each other. Not the rest of the world.
I get it, and this is my concession. I won’t answer it. I won’t even look at it, but I need to be available in case World War III breaks out during dinner time. For a moment, silence reigns across the room and her shoulders relax a hair.
“So, Blair—”
It rings again. Her eyes cut like daggers, pinning me in place.
“Just answer it,” she snaps while Niko pokes at his broccoli.
“You’re in trouble,” he sing-songs while I pick up my phone and kiss the top of her head as I pass. He got over his cold in a few days, and now he’s acting as right as rain. And he might very well be right, but I’m sure I can find a way back into her good graces .
Stepping out of the room, I answer without looking at the caller ID as I head back to my office.
“Da?”
The word is hardly out of my mouth before Maksim’s barking at me. Just as quickly, I regret not turning the fucking phone off, repercussions be damned.
“Where the fuck are you? I need you in my office. Now.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, but before I can respond he hangs up, like I’m a trained dog that would never even think to disobey an order.
It’s anyone’s guess whether he wants me there because he wants to berate me for some imagined slight, or if he did something colossally stupid that he expects me to handle.
The only time I’ve been able to spend with Blair and Niko is the little time I’ve managed to steal away from his bullshit, and it’s starting to wear to my nerves.
At least I know that Maksim’s attention is focused elsewhere, and they aren’t in his crosshairs for a while.
No one’s found out my connection to Pavel’s death, and I’m taking full advantage of it. Even if someone does suspect it, Maksim’s becoming more unstable with each passing day, and no one’s in a place to do anything about it.
That said, I miss the days when my workouts consisted of a run and weightlifting. Moving bodies around is getting tiring, and it’s even worse when I know the names of more and more of the bodies.
Maksim’s paranoia has gotten so bad that no man can consider himself safe in his presence. Not that they ever could, but even his right-hand man, Nikita, has started to look uncomfortable when they’re in the same room together.
And as far as I’m aware, they’ve been as thick as thieves since the very beginning.
If we’re all very, very lucky, Maksim’s violence will end up getting him killed sooner rather than later. And if I’m lucky, I won’t have to be the one to do it.
Unfortunately, I know better than to rely on luck, but until my hand is forced, I’ll happily stand aside and offer the opportunity to someone else.
I wouldn’t want to get greedy, after all.
With a kiss against her hair, I let Blair know I’ll be out late and head over to Maksim’s place, telling myself to be patient. His security rushes me through the gates, and I can’t help but notice there are fewer men than there were the last time I was here.
The whole mansion is quiet, and I’m on high alert as I seek out his office, finding Maksim at his desk, feet propped on the corner as he takes a long drink from a crystal tumbler. In the center of the room lies a corpse, face beaten beyond recognition, surrounded by a still puddle of blood.
“Are you going to stare at it, or are you planning on doing something, you useless mudak? ” Maksim slurs drunkenly, the dark liquid splashing over the rim of his glass as he gestures crudely toward the body.
The whole room reeks of blood and booze, and his slur tells me that this is far from his first drink of the evening. His hair is wild, the wrinkles on his face pronounced with exhaustion .
I doubt he feels any grief over his son’s passing. That would require him to feel any warmth for anyone other than himself, something that’s simply beyond a man like him.
No, he’s only worried that someone might be gunning for his crown, and if they are, he has no clear successor to cement his legacy.
The only thing he has are the thin reeds of power that connect a group of violent, money-hungry men and the over-the-top furnishings he’s surrounded himself with. The control that he’s managed to forge for himself is coming apart at the seams.
Instead of answering him, I grab the roll of industrial plastic from the hall closet and crouch next to the corpse to get to work.
I pat down the body to check for ID or a phone, mildly grateful when I don’t find any, then I start manipulating the limbs so I can force the limp limbs into a position that’s easy enough to carry and dispose of.
I freeze when I flip the left arm over the chest.
The intricate spider tattooed on the back of his hand stares back at me. Looking back at the face, I don’t recognize a single feature, but I can’t forget that tattoo.
Dmitri was loud-mouthed and obnoxious, and now his face has been beaten to the point that it’s unrecognizable. Instead, it’s a mess of mangled flesh and exposed, shattered bone.
He was just a kid, looking for enough money to take care of his sister, and now he’s nothing.
Just another victim of Maksim’s untempered rage.
If Maksim keeps killing the people who’ve sworn their loyalty to him in his own home, there will be no legacy left for him to leave behind. There will only be blood and ashes. We’ll end up killing each other before anyone else gets a chance.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Maksim’s derision is clear, but the slur mutes the effect, not that he notices. The glass in his hand shakes as he throws the rest of his drink back in a single go. “You haven’t been answering your fucking phone.”
The hell I haven’t .
I only make myself unavailable for one hour a day while we’re having dinner. If he can’t manage without me for a single hour, that’s his problem, not mine.
I bite my tongue, knowing better than to try to justify anything to him. He doesn't want an explanation. He only wants to lash out, and he’ll take any excuse he can find.
“Dinner with the wife.” I shrug, rolling up the body. Maksim’s lip curls, but before he gets a chance to berate me, I continue, not wanting to listen to him any longer than I have to. “Anything else I can do for you, Pakhan?”
Not for the first time, I’m grateful that Semyon inherited our father’s temper instead of me. I know how to keep mine in check, but if Maksim decides to run his drunken mouth about Blair, I can’t be sure I’ll be able to stick to my resolve and let someone else handle him.
Doing anything to him now, when his few remaining guards know I’m here, would be nothing short of suicidal.
“Sotero,” he offers.
“Luca Sotero?” I ask, raising a brow in question.
“ Da . You met with that little shit a while back, right?”
“Sure.”
I want to point out that if he had questions about the night I met with Luca, he could have just as easily asked Dmitri before he killed him, but I think better of it. For all I know, he did, and Dmitri didn’t have the answers he wanted.
He stands, swaying on his feet. “What do you know about him?” He leans heavily on his desk, watery eyes locking onto me like an anchor.
“Not much. He’s a capo, loyal to his guys.
” I shrug. “Best I can tell, outside of his gambling problem he doesn't cause issues, and always has his boss’s money at the end of the month.” It isn’t anything that Maksim doesn’t already know, and if he wants more, then I’m not the person to ask.
I don’t make a habit of digging into other outfits.
Unlike Maksim, I’m not interested in starting a war.
“I need you to find something on that motherfucker,” he bellows, voice echoing in the enclosed space.
He nods at Dmitri, his eyes suddenly slipping from me like he’s no longer capable of keeping them in one spot.
“This little shit didn’t know anything.” Stepping around the corner of his desk, he stumbles over his own feet, taking any heat away from the threat.
What a pathetic sight.
“Sure. Give me a couple days, boss.” The vein in his forehead throbs a persistent beat, and I stand, hauling Dmitri’s body over my shoulder. Fuck, he’s still warm. “Am I good to finish up here first, or should I call someone else in?”