“You just fucked our stewardess,” I remind him watching the woman’s face fall in disgust. “I think your dick needs some recovery time first.”
“But…”
“Nyet,” I hiss before dragging him along after me. “Stop acting like a boy and thinking with your damn dick before I castrate you to solve the problem.”
Dima doesn’t say anything, but it is hard to miss the pull of his lips.
Fucker is messing with me.
“Come,” my voice is less harsh as we step into the elevator. “We have work to do.”
forty-six
“I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”
A snort escapes my lips at the insinuation. “I never said you were,” I placate. “I simply want to be sure that the pretty brunette at the service desk won’t be a distraction for you.”
Dima blows out his lips in frustration, and I can’t help the chuckle I release. Here I am sitting like a fucking creeper in the middle of a blacked-out apartment stalking my fucking target. It is long past midnight, and the fucker still hasn’t shown his face. We came here for Kirill, but he isn’t the only one I am after.
My backup man is currently pouting outside in the car like a dejected puppy. I made sure to crack a window for him. Maksim has been the holder of Dima’s leash for as long as I can remember. I would say it is something kinky but while my young associate might flex and bend with gender, Maksim has no such flexibility.
“I know when to take my balls out of the game.”
It isn’t quite how the American phrase goes, but I let it slide.
For now.
“Then prove it,” I command him. “Prove that you can be a reliable asset,bratand maybe I will think about allowing more freedom in the future.”
Should have brought fucking Leon or Romano with me.
Problem is that both are easily recognizable as being associated with me.
Dima is my ghost man. My thief in the shadows.
“Got him,” Dima informs me what he is seeing on his video feed. Hacking into the hotel’s Wi-Fi was horrifyingly easy. “He’s heading into the elevator with two security guards.”
My hand clenches on the gun in my lap.
“Security got off on the floor below him.”
Rookie mistake. I smirk darkly. Never leave yourself open without easily accessible backup. I wait patiently, the soft pad of footsteps my reward some minutes later. Rolling my shoulders back, I tilt my head up and prepare. The door beeps, the telltale sign of being unlocked, and the door handle clicks. Moments later the door closes, and the snick of the lock sounds.
Time for business.
“Privet, dvoyurodnaya brat,” I greet my cousin coldly, the muzzle of my baretta aimed at his chest. Ivan, the man who paraded himself as Jonathon Archer, freezes in his tracks. Flipping on the lamp, I expect to see fear creeping into his silver eyes. Instead, his own gun is aimed at my head, a smarmy smirk goading his lips.
Pizdets.
“Matthias.” I want to punch that smirk off his face and watch that smug glint in his eye fade to nothing as I choke the life from him.
“Archer,” I nod my head at him, my eyes never leaving his face. “Or should I call you Ivan?”
“Took you long enough.” Again, the man shows no fear, only expectancy. “I thought you would have found me sooner, honestly.”
I sneer.
“Know me so well, do you?”
