16. Alek
ALEK
I close the bathroom door behind me and allow the nerves to show. My hand shakes as I run it over my mouth and take a deep breath. I lean against the door for a few seconds to calm down. Holding my hands out in front of me, they tremble like leaves during an earthquake.
I’ve never been this scared or nervous before. Men like me don’t get nervous. We aren’t allowed to be afraid.
But my god, those two men breaking into the cabin to take my Mia away properly terrified me. I knew I’d kill them. I always do. No one ever gets the best of me, but there’s always the chance that I might not have the upper hand.
Usually, the thought of death doesn’t scare me. It does now. Mia must be protected at all costs. Even if it means sacrificing myself. I have someone important who needs me, and I can’t let my love for them turn to fear or that is how we will die.
Fear never wins yet the fuel of being afraid is what keeps up alive.
My phone blares from where I tossed it on the bed earlier. Snagging it, I see it’s a text message from Nikolai.
He’s here.
My head hurts. My body aches. I’m sore. That mother fucker got a few good hits in, and they will leave bruises, but at least I’m not dead.
I crack my neck, turning it left and right.
If I can clean this up quick, I can shower, and maybe then join my beloved in the bath. Oh, I’d like that. I’d love to feel her warm body pressed against mine, drinking the best wine, and watching whatever TV show she wanted.
I don’t care. I only want to be with her.
Leaving the bedroom, I step out onto the loft and look over the railing to see the man I killed on his back, blood and brain matter still littering the floors.
I wish I could snap my fingers and this mess would all go away.
I climb down the steps, rubbing the back of my neck. My feet pad against the floor on my way to the front door, stepping in blood and barely missing broken glass.
Nikolai is at the front door, arms spread out, silently asking me what took so long.
Slamming my palm against the scanner, the locks slide free, and I swing the door open. “I was on my way.”
“Could you have gone any slower? It’s cold out.”
“It’s cold out,” I scoff in Russian. “We are from Russia. We do not get cold.”
“Fuck you. I get cold. I want a fire after this and vodka. It better be good vodka.”
“It’s always good vodka.” The audacity to even assume it wouldn’t be, I take offense to.
Nikolai’s shoulder bumps against mine as he steps inside. He whistles when he takes in the carnage. “Fuck, Alek. You got lucky.”
I walk into the kitchen and open a drawer where I keep a pack of emergency cigarettes. I’m not a big smoker but I do give into temptation every so often when the situation calls for it.
And this most definitely calls for it.
“Want one?” I continue to speak in Russian, liking that I don’t have to speak English with Nikolai all the time. It’s a good break.
The English language is exhausting.
“Da,” he replies, snagging a stick from the pack.
I grab matches then walk over to the dead body, striking the match off the dead man’s boot.
Nikolai chuckles with a shake of his head. “So cruel.”
The flame sways and I cup my hand over it, bringing it to the end of the cigarette. I puff, allowing the rancid smoke to fill my lungs.
Nikolai squats, dipping is own cigarette into the flame. He puffs it, the smoke clouding his face. I open the window behind me, not wanting the smoke to become stagnant in the small cabin.
“You kicked his ass.” He flicks the cigarette, the ashes falling onto the intruder’s shirt. “Nice touch.” Nikolai pats out the embers when they light the paper on fire. “Oops. I’ll fix it.” He blows out another cloud of smoke. “Better.”
“Two men came from the woods. I saw them on the security feed in bed. They peeked inside the car, then went around back, broke the basement window, and tried to come up the steps to surprise me.”
“How is Mia?” he asks, his tone conveying genuine concern, still speaking in our native tongue.
“She’s good. I hid her in the panic room. Now, she is taking a nice relaxing bath.”
“You told her not to come down here, didn’t you?”
“Da. She doesn’t need to see this. And she doesn’t want to, but she’s okay. For now. I’m nervous things will get worse.”
“I found the contract. We’ll take care of cleanup, we’ll sleep, we’ll look over the contract tomorrow.”
“We?”
“Da. I’m not driving back tonight. It’s late. I’m tired. Sleep. I want sleep.”
“I need these bodies delivered to Ivan. I have to send a message with this man’s phone too. It’s imperative Ivan gets it.”
“It can wait until tomorrow,” Nikolai waves away my concern. “I work for you. I don’t work for him. He can wait. Let’s get the bodies in the van.”
I nod, placing the cigarette between my lips, Nikolai doing the same. He grabs the feet while I hook my hands around the shoulders.
“Fucker is heavy,” Nikolai grunts.
“You should have felt one of his punches. It hurts like hell. I can show you.”
“Fuck you,” he mumbles around his cigarette as we carefully make our way down the porch steps.
The van doors are already open. Nikolai thinks of everything. We toss the first body in, then go inside for the second.
“We’ll have to burn the couch. There’s no saving that.”
“Perfect. It will give Mia a chance to burn her wedding dress. I want to gather some ashes from it and send it to Ivan.”
Nikolai tosses his head back, cackling like an evil villain. “I like it. Mia makes you feral.”
“Mia opened my eyes. I have raised a terrible son. His actions are my fault. I owe Mia.” I start walking down the steps and Nikolai snags my arm, uncaring about the dead body at the base of the steps or the blood on the walls.
“Ivan isn’t your fault,” he states, harshness wrapped in the words.
“How is it not? I am his father. You should have read the things he has done to her. He should be dead for touching her and speaking to her in those ways.”
“Exactly. You didn’t teach him that. He is a grown man.
I’ve was there every step of the way. Don’t forget that.
He is sick.” He taps his temple. “In the head. I noticed it at a young age, and I know you did too. It’s why you tried so hard to instill the good qualities in him.
He never understood the good parts, only the bad, and that’s not on you.
That’s on this.” He taps his temple again. “The mind. And his isn’t right.”
I sidestep a puddle of blood and inch by a piece of scalp sticking to the wall.
Just another day as Aleksandr Bykov.
I jump off the bottom step and snag his arms while Nikolai grabs the legs, then climbs the staircase backwards.
I can’t help it. I start to laugh.
“What?” He asks, smoke swaying from his lips.
“You say he’s sick in the head but here we are loading bodies in the van.”
“That’s different,” he shrugs. “Not the same.”
“It’s kind of the same,” I argue.
“No. You were protecting Mia. I’d do the exact same thing for the person I love.”
I almost trip going up the steps. “You know?”
He rolls his eyes. “Da. I know. I’ve known for three years. It’s the way you look at her.”
“I didn’t mean to fall in love with her. It’s impossible not to. I didn’t think we had a chance—”
“Because you’re ancient.”
“Because of Ivan.”
“Same thing. It only proves you’re old.”
We toss the second body in the trunk and the guy’s head slams against the metal floor with a hard thud. If he wasn’t dead, that hit might have killed him.
“Fuck you.”
He flicks the cigarette on the ground, stomps the embers out with this foot, and grins. “You aren’t my type.”
I throw my cigarette on the ground next. “I’m everyone’s type.”
He shoves me, hitting me in the spot that’s sore and bruised. I groan from agony.
“Do you have any wounds that need stitches?” he asks.
“No. Just some nasty bruises. I’m fine.”
We step inside the house, both of us heading to the couch. From the bottom, we pick up the sofa, and carry it outside where I usually burn any and all evidence.
Nikolai jogs to the van and opens the passenger door, snagging a few gas cans.
“You always think ahead,” I raise my voice as he powerwalks over to me.
“It’s what you pay me for.” He hands me a large red can.
Without saying another word, we pop the top of the cans, pouring the fuel onto the ruined couch.
“I’ve always loved the smell of gasoline,” I say, sucking in a deep breath.
Fuck. That’s good.
“Me too.” There is a madness in his eyes whenever there is promise for a flame.
Nikolai smiles as he drenches the couch in a flammable substance. “Ready? Are you ready?” He nearly jumps up and down with excitement, tossing the empty can behind him.
“Da. Da. Calm down. The fire will burn for a while.” I take out my pack of cigarettes, pounding the box against the heel of my hand. “Want one more?”
He takes another and rocks on his feet, waiting for me to pull out the matches.
He’s a madman.
I strike the match and the flame appears, flickering with the breeze. The darkness is still. Crickets chirp. Frogs croak. It’s peaceful.
For now.
I flick the match onto the couch, and it bursts into hot orange and red tendrils that stretch up towards the night sky. The smoke disappears into the darkness, a fog vanishes within the treetops.
“Wish we had smores.” Nikolai rubs his hands together, hovering them over the fire.
“There are human remains burning on that couch. You want that on your smore?”
“Good point. Maybe when she burns her dress? Is that happening tonight?”
This asshole. He only wants smores.
“You can make a smore in the microwave, you know. You don’t need fire.”
His eyes brighten, a big smile taking over his usually grim face. “Really? Why are we out here when the smores are inside?” He frowns, genuinely confused.
The man turns into a child when it comes to smores. I’ve never understood the obsession. I have never asked. If he ever wants to tell me, he will.
“We have to make sure nothing catches fire, Nikolai. This is not your first fire. You know this.” This time I speak in English, doing my best to not show my frustration.
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
I roll my eyes at his antics.