It definitely wasn't because he was remorseful over them. For as long as we'd both been at this, I knew he couldn’t possibly be squeamish anymore.
When we reached the office, I couldn't help the way my lip curled, taking in all the decorations lying around.
“You do all this yourself, or did you bring in a prissy bitch to do it for you? Gotta say, it’s not my fave look,” I muttered.
Rel explained that his dead ex-wife had taken care of it all. I dropped into a chair across from the desk and kicked my boots up. My rifle, now leaning by the door, left my hands free, so I tucked them behind my head as I waited for what needed to be said.
Part of me already knew what we were getting into. Rel would only call me along if he needed me for a specific reason.
Sure enough, when he dialed the number and the man on the line answered with “Da?,” I knew what I was here for. I was going to be witness to him explaining to Stasia's family that she was dead.
Henny probably should have been the one to come in, but it was more likely that I would have fun cutting up the dead bodies and making a mess of the interrogation room than actually doing cleanup.
It was just too much fun.
I was a freaky asshole. Sue me.
The conversation quickly devolved into chaos. I heard the moment the man on the other end, Vlad, head of the Russian Bratva and Stasia's uncle started speaking in Russian.
I reached across the desk and snatched the phone, putting it on speaker and muting it at the same time. As he went on, I understood bits and pieces, none of which were good.
He wanted to come after Rel. Wanted to take down the family and anyone who stood aligned with them. He wanted retribution for his niece, and he didn't fucking care how he got it.
I explained all of it once the call was done because I needed him to know. Needed him to understand that he not only had to fix what Stasia had damaged here at home, but he had an adversary coming up against him as well from the outside.
My stay became more complicated.
I couldn't complain though. The idea of getting to take out some of the Bratva men excited me. A few of those assholes had tried to pull one over on me years ago. Thought they could cheat me out of some money.
After I bashed a few heads in and broke some kneecaps, they accepted defeat and wired over the rest of what I was owed.
But I wasn't one to let a grudge go.
I was a petty bitch.
I knew it.
Everyone else did too.
So it would be no surprise to those Russian fuckers if I showed up ready to lay waste to them all. Because it was what I was owed.
It could be ten years from now, and I'd still feel like I needed to get back at them. I wouldn't be settled until they stopped breathing.
Maybe that was part of the reason I felt that itch under my skin. Maybe it was a restlessness because I needed to go down the list of people who'd done me wrong and take out my vengeance.
But that didn't explain why being around Henny made it better.
It was a mystery I couldn't solve. I wasn't really sure if I wanted to either.
Part of my fascination with Henny came from not knowing. It was being close but not close enough.
I also understood that the buzz under my skin was part of what made me so good at my job. The more restless I was, the more I would get the kill done without distraction.
Rel wrapped up his business, and I took off to settle my sleeping arrangements. I would be living in his home in one of the spare bedrooms because it was easiest. That meant I needed to check out of the hotel I was staying in, gather all the weapons I had stored in my storage units, and put them close to home.
If there was going to be an attack, I needed to have a full-scale armory at hand. Plus, it would be good to get some practice in on the range I knew Rel had built for his men.
I never wanted to get rusty.
