“Dude,” Scott says, laughing and slapping him on the back. “You’re going to hurt her feelings and then she’ll be crying too hard to clean the toilets.”
Darin and Seth linger in the doorway, smiles playing at their lips because apparently insulting me is just the funniest thing ever. Seth tongues the lip ring at the corner of his mouth, which could easily look sexy if anyone else were doing it, but his unskilled tongue is just flopping around, leaving a wet smear of slobber along his lips. I turn before I start dry heaving and check on the casserole, only half listening when they start talking behind my back about how much money they made selling pills last week. As a rule, I try not to pay attention to most of what they say, because the less I know about the laws they break, the better, but my interest is piqued when they mention the mafia.
“Those fuckers have completely taken over the whole damn city,” Scott says, grabbing a bag of chips and taking one of the seats at the island. “It was bad enough when the Irish were in charge, but at least they were kind of lazy about things. It was easy to sneak things by them. The Russians are a bunch of fucking psychos, though.”
“Yeah,” Sebastian says, chiming in as he grabs a handful of chips. “Don’t piss off the Medvedev brothers or they’ll cut you into pieces and leave your ass all over the city.” He laughs and adds, “Or they’ll just cut your tongue out.”
“So why exactly are we going up against them?” Darin asks, and I’m beginning to think he’s the only one with even a shred of common sense.
The others laugh at what they must consider a stupid question. Scott answers with, “Because it’s a lot of money, and we’re not going to get caught,” proving that he’s the stupidest of the lot. I’ve heard rumors about the Medvedev Bratva, we all have, and if even half the shit I’ve heard is true, it’s enough to prove that anyone with even a smidgen of brain cells should stay as far away from them as possible.
The doorbell rings, cutting of their conversation and making Kaylee give an excited squeal before dropping her bag of carrots and running for the front door. A few minutes later she comes back in with a man on her arm who looks exactly like how you’d expect some rich, preppy ass to look. His blond hair is perfectly styled, his tan an even bronze across his flawless skin, and the suit he’s wearing probably cost a fortune. He looks like he should be wearing tiny white tennis shorts with a sweater tied around his neck. God, I bet even his name is something stupid like Bennington Buckworth II or some shit like that.
“This is Preston Winterborn III,” Kaylee gushes, and I bite my tongue so hard I’m afraid I might actually draw blood. Knowing I can’t keep the laughter out of my eyes, I turn and busy myself with getting the casserole out. She introduces her brother and his friends, and I wish I could ask him what he really thinks of Kaylee’s greasy-haired brother. When I set the dish down and look over at him, he’s too busy eyeing Kaylee to give her brother and his friends much thought. I’m not surprised when she doesn’t introduce me, and I’m definitely not surprised when Preston doesn’t ask who I am. I’m not even a tiny blip on his radar.
Kaylee smiles up at him before putting on a pair of stilettos that I’d break my neck in and leading him out the door. I’m guessing she won’t be back until tomorrow morning. Scooping out a healthy portion of the high-carb-but-delicious casserole for myself, I leave the rest for the guys and sneak off to my room. With the bowl balancing on my stomach, I send a text to my mom, asking if she’s okay, and when she gives me a thumbs up, I grab my laptop and start scrolling through Netflix. Settling on a Nordic detective show, I get comfy and try very hard to not think about the vomit-coated bathroom I’d cleaned earlier or about how pathetic my life is turning out to be.
Chapter 2
Volodya
Ishove the blade into the man’s chest one last time, feeling the satisfying give of flesh and muscle, the crack of ribs, and finally the wheezy exhale as his lungs empty and his eyes turn dull and lifeless. Sliding my knife out, I let go, letting him fall to the ground.
“I’m really starting to get annoyed with this shit,” I mutter, kicking the dead body at my feet so it’s no longer in my way.
“I see that,” Valeri says, fighting a laugh.
My younger brother is someone who always sees the bright side of things. Nothing much fazes him. There’s always a smile playing at his lips and amusement in his green eyes, even when he’s killing someone. It’s annoying as fuck.
“Jason was on campus today. Everyone he talked to said Scott’s the guy to go to if you want pills, but no one seems to know who’s supplying him with his drugs. He’s taking our business and ignoring our warnings.” Vasily grimaces and looks as angry as I am. Our older brother is a lot more like me in the temper department. He’s a little more rainbows and unicorns since marrying Nina and the birth of their son, Dmitri, but the old Vasily still shines through from time to time, and now is one of those moments.
He eyes the man I just stabbed to death while I wipe my blade clean and put it back in its sheath. I’ve always preferred knives over guns. Call me old-fashioned, but there’s just something so impersonal about a bullet. I like to be up close when I end someone’s life. I’m willing to admit that I take more pleasure in it than I should, but it is what it is, and I’ve learned to accept this part of myself. Isn’t that what all the self-help people spout? This is just me embracing myself, imperfections and all. Valeri sees me fighting a grin at my own bullshit thoughts and lifts a dark brow at me.
“Sometimes I think you might be truly insane, Volodya,” he muses.
I shrug and give him a smile, proving that he’s not the only Medvedev brother who can look on the sunny side of life. “Maybe I am, brother, maybe I am.”
“He needs a woman to soften his edges,” Vasily says.
Valeri laughs. “How do you know he won’t kill her?”
“Have I ever killed a woman?” I ask, jumping to my own defense.
Valeri looks at me like I really have lost my mind. “Many fucking times.”
“I mean innocent women, not ones that crossed us and needed to be taken out.”
“Not that I know of,” Valeri says and leaves it at that.
“Fucker,” I mutter, making him laugh. He knows damn good and well I’ve never killed an innocent person. If you feel the sting of my knife, then you’ve done something to deserve it, the fucker at my feet would attest to that if he could. When I’d held my knife to his neck, he’d known exactly why I was doing it. He’d been warned to stop selling shit for Scott St. James, and he’d ignored the warning. This line of work doesn’t allow for handholding and kid gloves. You fuck up, you get killed. It’s as simple as that.
“Like I said,” Vasily continues, getting us back on track, “Scott and his little crew need to be stopped. We’re not losing a ton of money, because as big as Scott thinks his dick is, it’s actually quite small and his operation is laughable, but it’s a nuisance all the same.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he thinks he’s ripping us a new one,” Valeri says with a laugh.
“But really it’s just an annoying tickle in my ass,” I say, finishing his thought, unable to resist joining in his laughter.
Vasily shakes his head, but I can see the look on his face and know he wants to join in. “I’m going home to my family.” He runs a tattooed hand through his hair. “I think it’s time to start looking into his sister. That usually gets the point across.”
