“You say that like it was a hardship,” Ciro says. “We had a great time that night.” He dips his chin conspiratorially, and she giggles.
Jesus Christ, I’m going to break this fucker’s neck.
“Yeah, well, a lot’s changed since then.” My harsh words are a bucket of black on their rainbow reunion.
Ciro looks at me for a second, trying to read the situation. “That’s true.” He looks back at Terina. “I hear you’ve attracted a bit of trouble recently.”
“Eh, it comes with the life, right?”
“Suppose so. I’m just glad I can help out.” He puts his arm around her, tugging her into his side in yet another hug.
That’s it. I gotta get out of here before I do something I’ll regret.
“I need to go,” I blurt, sounding like a surly ass. “No one steps foot in or out of this place. Call me immediately if there are any problems.” I grab my wallet and bolt.
I’m so fucking irritated that I punch the metal wall of the elevator with my bare fist. Pain radiates up my arm, but not in a bad way. I didn’t break anything. I’m too experienced a fighter for that. It was just enough to get my goddamn head cleared.
Shit. That’s twice now I’ve lost my cool in a week.
I shake out my hand, flexing my fingers as I remind myself I’m supposed to be a professional. My relationship with Terina should be purely professional. None of the shit that just happened should matter.
You can say “supposed to” and “should” all you want—it doesn’t change how you feel.
The elevator doors open before I can dent another wall panel. Good for my wallet, since I’ll get stuck paying for the damage, but it’s an ominous start to my mission.
Here’s hoping I don’t launch a war while I’m out.
“A gift.”I set the bottle of vodka on one of the wooden crates stacked on the pier.
“Never arrive empty-handed when you want something.” The old man across from me hardly spares me a glance as he uses a dirty switchblade to cut a slice of apple. His voice is as rough as the weathered boards below our feet and heavily feathered with a Russian accent.
“It’s a good rule to live by. I was taught well.”
His eyes, silver as the fish in his nets, peer up at me. “You going to suck my cock while you kiss my ass?”
My old friend draws a reluctant chuckle from deep in my chest as I take a seat. “Good to see you, too, Grisha. I can always count on you to keep me humble.”
Humble and alive. He took me under his wing those two years in prison and taught me to fight and to listen. He’s the reason I made it out without severe emotional and physical trauma.
A grin breaks out on his face, unleashing a yellow, crooked smile. “Hand me those glasses, and we’ll drink to humility.”
I do as he suggests. Pushing him for information before he’s ready will only result in frustration, so I allow him to take the lead. We go through three rounds of drinks while catching up before he brings us back to the purpose of my visit.
“I suppose we should talk business before you end up passed out on my pier.” He takes a long draw from his cigarette, mirth in his eyes.
“I won’t pretend to be your equal where vodka is concerned, so that would be appreciated.” I’m a big guy and can handle myliquor, but Grisha breathes vodka. The fact that he’s still alive is a medical miracle.
“Someone sent a nasty snake to my boss’s sister,” I tell him.
Another long puff of a cigarette. “Not very friendly.”
“No, it’s not. Simeon has denied his involvement.”
He nods thoughtfully. Even if he knows who I’m after, he wouldn’t give anything away until he decides to do it. Grisha isn’t part of the New York Russians. He goes back to the old country—did time in a Russian gulag and swears his loyalty to no man these days. Decades ago, Biba insisted Grisha either swear an oath to him or label himself an enemy. Grisha refused to do either. Every attempt to kill him failed until Biba finally gave up. The two maintained an uneasy truce thereafter.
Despite being independent, Grisha has his finger on the pulse of the Russian community. Biba’s family doesn’t take a piss without Grisha knowing.
“The Reaper has also denied his involvement,” I continue.
