Kostya throws his arms around me, clinging to me like molasses, burping in my ear. I swear, I actually consider tossing him to the floor.
“Brother,” he groans dramatically, “I think I’m gonna puke. M’kay?” That’s all he says before he hunches over and vomits all over my shoes.
I drag a hand down my face. Stella is gone, and so is the magic of the moment we just spent together. And now I’m stuck babysitting a drunk idiot. Perfect. Just how I wanted my night to end.
Pizdets!
Chapter 11
Kirill
“Uhh… do you have to make so much noise this early in the morning?” Kostya groans, his heavy head in his hands, nursing what has to be a brutal hangover.
“Can’t handle the fallout from your own choices? Then maybe don’t make them,” I scold lightheartedly, while pouring a stream of black coffee into a mug before sliding it in front of my reckless brother.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, his voice rough and gravelly. “Again, sorry about last night. I guess I got a little carried away.”
“No shit,” I smirk, drinking my own coffee while leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Just give me an hour or so and I’ll be good as new. What’s on the books for today?”
Stella.Her name hits my mind instantly.
“I have to pop into the club to oversee the construction. Then I’ve got to run a few errands.”
“On a Saturday? What errands could you possibly have today? Don’t you have someone to do that shit for you? Or areyou sick of me already that you’d rather spend the day picking up your dry cleaning?” he jokes, and then immediately regrets it as he grabs his head as if it were splitting in half.
“Though you are a pain in my ass, that’s not why I have to leave. Just hang out here and let the grown-ups do their thing.”
“I’m a grown-up, too, asshole. Just let me grab a shower, and I’ll go with you.”
“No.”
“No?” He lifts a curious brow.
“Just stay the fuck here, okay? Nurse that hangover while I do what needs to be done.”
“What are you up to?” Kostya asks, his curiosity naturally piqued since I’m acting shady as fuck.
“I already told you,” I grumble, dumping the rest of my coffee in the sink. “I’ve got business to attend to.”
“Bullshit.” He narrows his eyes at me. “I knew something was off with you since you picked me up at the airport yesterday. I couldn’t put my finger on it then, but there’s something there. Spill it. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing is going on with me,” I lie.
Kostya just leans back, arms crossed over his chest, looking at me like he doesn’t believe a single word coming out of my mouth. And why would he? I’m obviously lying.
Pizdets.
“Fine. If you must know… I found a lead on Kira.”
“The fuck?” His eyes practically launch out of his skull. “And when did this happen? Why the fuck did no one tell me?!”
“I’m telling you now.”
Kostya’s jaw ticks, pissed he was left out of something this big. But what he fails to remember is that he’s been dealing with his own shitstorm of a situation. Misha was very clear in his orders to keep Kostya in the dark about Katya’s daughter, for the time being, since our little brother isn’t exactly known forkeeping his cool. If he’d known about Kira—how close we were to finally finding her—Kostya would’ve caught the first plane out of San Francisco, feds tailing him and all. And that wouldn’t work. That would’ve led the feds straight to my doorstep.
No. Misha was right to keep this from Kostya as long as he could. At least this way, it would guarantee that Kostya would be kept out of trouble. Something my kid brother obviously has a big fucking problem with.
