Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
There are three men and one woman sitting around the large, low table in the center of the room. Cards and chips litter the table, and everyone has a drink and a cigar.
I check their faces quickly.
Not Malettis.
Unless they’re new hires or low-level grunts, I don’t recognize them. But when my eyes land on the third guy, next to the woman, my heart skips a beat.
It’s him.
Lucian Farina.
Sitting there, wearing a cream-colored suit with a deep, blood-red tie.
All of them glance up at me as I step down into the area, and Lucian’s eyes linger on me, but he’s careful not to stare for too long.
He has no clue that I already know who he is.
What he’s been doing.
What he’s been saying to my beauty.
“Guys, these are my cousins, Roman and Maks. I’m sure I’ve talked about them,” Yegor says, then introduces each of them to us individually.
There’s Lucian. The girl next to him is his date, Nicole. The two other guys are Benny and a man he introduces as Tackle, which I assume is a nickname he got because he looks like a slab of muscle.
Still not quite as tall as me.
Not as thick, either.
Benny’s eyes are bloodshot, and I notice remnants of white powder on the table in front of his spot. All of them have been drinking, and the air reeks of cigar and Amaretto liqueur.
“Sit, sit,” Yegor says. “You want in on the next round?”
“Maybe the one after next,” I say, speaking for the first time since walking in. “Yegor, we need a word. In the backyard.”
He gives us a wide, painted-on smile, nodding and stubbing his cigar out in the ashtray below him.
“Of course, of course, gentleman. Guys, you’ll be entertained in here while I go chat with my cousins for a moment?”
Benny is pouring out a fresh line of coke in front of him and waves one hand in response.
Tackle remains silent, staring out into the distance, and Lucian Farina is the only one who glances up at Yegor.
“Go talk. We’ve got nothing but time,” Lucian says.
The sound of his voice makes my skin crawl, all the way down the back of my spine.
I want to do it right now.
I want to wrap my hands around his pin-straight, skinny little neck, crushing his windpipe before he gets the chance to protest.
I need him gone from the face of the Earth.
This subhuman, this filthy excuse for a human being.
My gaze lingers on Lucian for too long and I feel Maks give me a gentle tap on the arm to bring me back to reality.
I turn, following Yegor out of the thin cloud of smoke, toward the wall of windows leading out to the backyard. He slides open a glass door and we step out into the cool, humid air, and I watch Yegor slide the door shut behind us.
Blood is rushing in my ears and I have tunnel vision on Yegor.
Every fucking move he makes.
Patience.
Patience… until I utterly destroy you.
“Over there,” I say, nodding toward the glittering blue of the pool further to the side of the yard.
There’s a space there behind a column where we won’t be visible to the men inside.
“Talk,” Maks barks at Yegor.
“Okay, boys, what would you like me to talk about?”
“Who are the fucking guys inside, Yegor?” Maks asks him.
I notice that Maks steps to one side of Yegor, while I block the other.
From where Maks is, he has a line of sight at an angle through the tall windows. If any of the men inside move, Maks will see it instantly.
I face directly toward Yegor.
“They are some friends,” Yegor says, looking between the both of us. “New friends.”
Time slows for a moment.
I can see every micro movement of Yegor’s eyes. The way he glances down toward my palm, quickly, to see if I’m reaching for a weapon. The way he looks at Maks, shifting his gaze.
But I’m faster than him.
So much fucking faster.
I always have been.
By the time I’m reaching in my back pocket for my Makarov, Yegor is holding up his hands, backing away.
My gun feels like an extension of my own arms.
It feels scary how natural it is to level it at him, the moment I know he’s untrustworthy.
“Speak or regret it,” I tell him, the heavy weight of the metal unshaking under my palms.
Everything in my body goes calm.
The adrenaline wins out over every thought, and my heart stops racing.
The fear is gone.
The only thing left is to fight.
“Who the fuck are they, Yegor?” Maks says, and Yegor looks over at a second gun pointed at him now, too.
The blue light of the pool ripples behind him, old collected raindrops periodically falling from the trees down into the water.
“You will find out who they are, when you need to find out,” Yegor says.
His eyes are wide as he looks at me.