Page 65 of Volatile Waters

“You sonofabitch!” Crash got up, wanting to fight me. “No! She is not going to be one of your fucking pets—”

There was no more holding back all my pent-up rage. It simply overflowed as if a rapid river, no longer cooperating with the built damn. I was yelling at more than Crash. I think it was my father, too. “You stole what was mine…”

This young man was, throughout the years, constantly willing to face my wrath and be burdened with my insanity for the sake of others. Nothing was any different that unforgettable, fateful night.

When I was forced to stop beating Crash and go back into the rental house, I broke free from my men. I smoothed out my jacket and my hair with my hands, trying to gain an ounce of composure. “He dies… and Whitney goes with us to Russia… tonight.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“What does he keep mumbling?” asked an annoyed Kirill.

Crash had been so severely beaten by me that he was barely conscious. They rolled his tied form into the back of the SUV with our suitcases. We were headed back to Russia after visiting Whitney’s home.

I stared at my bruised knuckles, then swallowed guilt that tasted like acid and death. I’d lacked the courage to look in the back since we placed him there, but I could hear him, clear as day. “He’s praying.” I exhaled a sentiment that I was unable to understand at the time. “He’s saying ‘Save her, Link. Save her, Tim’.”

Adrian peered back at me from the front passenger seat and studied me for a moment before saying, “I’ll do it.”

He meant kill Crash. I shrugged my weighted shoulders. “Meh, whatever.” My stomach stirred with a storm of emotions that were threatening to be my undoing.

Adrian’s wise eyes were seeing through me. “Are we still taking the girl tonight?”

I was already doubting that decision also, but I snapped, “Is that not what I already said?”

Adrian gave a knowing nod before turning up the radio and facing forward, maybe to give me a break from hearing Crash’s hopeless pleas. Maybe they weren’t hopeless at all as they ate away at me. Maybe God was intervening the whole damn time.

Kirill and the other two men were so engrossed in their casual conversation; I was surprised Kirill was handling Valerie’s death so well. She was not with us. I had presumed Kirill had done what was told. I didn’t seem to have enough energy at the moment to inquire why his mood was not sour.

After we drove down a hidden back road through the woods surrounding the Summers’ neighborhood, we parked at the edge of Whitney’s vast backyard. Unloading the SUV, Kirill studied across the lake, where Link lived. He chuckled, “What do we have here? Amateurs ‘R US?”

Link and his parents were poorly hidden in bushes, using binoculars to watch over Whitney’s home. They had yet to even notice us. I knew they would do nothing when they did. Mr. Jones had an illegal alien wife, therefore a false marriage license, and a son produced by the human trafficking trade that they had allowed to continue without notifying the authorities. That would be almost as much trouble for him as me. If nothing else, he would lose his license to practice law, although falsifying government documents held a hefty punishment. Mr. Jones and I could share a prison cell if he wasn’t cautious.

Walking toward the back of the SUV, I commented, “We stick to the plan.”

“Sounds good, Boss.” Kirill stepped in front of me near the tail of the truck. “I’ll retrieve Crash.”

“Boss?” I lifted a brow at Kirill.“And since when do you volunteer your services to me?” His shrug was a pathetic lie. I sneered, “I see.” I pushed him from my path, suspecting my cousin was up to no good. Lifting the hatch of the SUV, I saw I was correct. I stared at a dead Valerie lying next to Crash. Facing Kirill, I whispered with anger, “You brought her fucking body, you sick fuck?”

Kirill winced. “Not exactly.”

Adrian joined us, then recoiled. “Oh, shit.”

If we were to get pulled over by an officer, it would have been hard enough to explain Crash, beaten and tied, but I had a plan for that. I was going to tell the officer we found him and were rushing him to the nearest medical facility. The dead girl? Meh.

Madly, I gestured to her, demanding Kirill explain.

His head bobbled on his shoulders. “She is not dead, per se.”

Fisting my hands, I whispered my growl. “Why the fuck not?”

He put his palms together. “Because she is mine. I claimed her.”

This was true, and we did have rules, but I was still about to lose my composure. “Then why is she unconscious?”

Kirill exhaled as if preparing for my rage. “She was unwilling to join me, so I drugged her.”

Even though we kidnapped on a daily basis, I slammed my fist into his mouth, sending him to the ground. There was no time for such a distraction. I had Crash to kill and a different girl to kidnap. Now another one to sneak out of the country? Kirill was being extremely selfish with his actions, so I kicked him, too.

He accepted my abuse, wiping his bloody lip, but stated, “She has been properly claimed, little Yury.”