I’ve never seen her look as bad as she does today. Her normally shiny blonde hair is limp and frizzy, and she sways as she sits at the island, like she can’t even keep herself up. She blinks slowly at me, and I have to move to the other side to keep myself from scooping her into my arms and carrying her straight to bed.
“Are you getting any sleep?”
“Of course.” She smiles a beat too quickly, just as she always does. I tilt my head, trying to force her to make eye contact, but it’s useless. She could teach a master class on avoiding someone while still making polite conversation.
For some people, I’d consider it a talent, but coming from her? It makes me feel like the lowest scum.
I didn’t kill Daniil, but I can’t help but feel like this is my fault anyway. If I hadn’t had the bright idea of using her as an informant, she wouldn’t have been exposed to any of this. She could have lived her whole life pretending people like Daniil and I didn’t exist.
She wouldn’t have all this pain and grief.
“I’ll stop by later and bring you guys some dinner, alright?” She’s lost too much weight. Niko looks like he’s eating just fine, but it’s like she can’t be bothered to get a proper meal for herself.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. We’re fine.”
“I know you are.” I can’t keep the softness out of my tone. I doubt she even notices it. “But you deserve a night off, you know?” She shakes her head, fiddling with the chain around her neck.
Shortly after the funeral she took off her rings and slipped them on a necklace that she mostly leaves tucked under the collars of her shirts. I want to ask about it, but my phone pings inside my pocket. I don’t have to look to know it’s another summons from Maksim.
“I’ll see you tonight,” I tell her, heading toward the front door before she can protest. I wait on the patio until I hear the click of the deadbolt behind me.
I’ve seen more of Maksim’s office since the funeral than I have in the past five years. He used to trust me enough to let me do my job with little supervision. But lately he’s been keeping his eye on me to the point that it feels like I’m being slowly smothered.
It’s his version of a tantrum. I didn’t let him make a show at the wake, so I have to suffer the consequences. If this is the cost to keep him from hurting Blair, then I’ll pay it every time.
When I walk through the doors, Maksim’s adviser, Nikita Dyomin, follows me to the office. He’s a slimy prick, but as long as he’s here, he can act as a buffer against Maksim’s rage. It’s been spreading like a fire, and the more it grows, the more I find that I don’t care about putting it out. If he wants to ruin everything he’s worked for because something didn’t go his way, then so be it.
“You called, Pakhan?”
“Sit.”
I’m not a fucking dog, I don’t say as I take a seat.
I’ve never been one to rock the boat or speak out of turn. Like my dad used to say, you learn more with your ears than you do with your mouth. It also has the bonus of being the best way to avoid Maksim’s attention.
If I refuse to speak out of turn, it’s that much harder for him to turn his wrath onto me.
He wastes no time diving into the details of tonight’s arms deal with The Outfit—from the location to the price, to the number of guns he’s expecting to be delivered at the end of the night.
On the surface, it seems like any other gun run, and I squint, trying to figure out why I’m being roped into it. I haven’t been asked to do this sort of work since my early twenties. At thirty-six, I’ve paid my dues, and while I’m normally not opposed to helping out when asked, something about the timing is putting me on edge.
“Meet with Dmitri at six. And don’t fuck it up, boy.”
I nod, but my mind is stuck on one detail.
“Why is this going down so far south of the city?” I ask, sounding bored. I don’t like it. Not just because this fucks up my plan to check on Blair tonight, but because he’s telling me to go so far out of the way for something that normally takes place closer to home.
“Does it matter?” Maksim’s eyes water in a way that betrays how much he relies on alcohol to get through the day as Nikita leans further back into his seat, knowing eyes watching me with an uncomfortable intensity.
“Guess not.” I shrug.
“Then shut up and do what’s asked of you, yeah? I swear, you’ve become nothing but a thorn in my side.” He wipes a hand over his face, looking far more agitated than he does weary. Nikita’s silent, dropping his eyes to his lap.
This sort of thing should be Pavel’s job.
Maksim’s made it clear for a couple years that he wants to retire, and he’s been doing more and more to groom Pavel to take over for him. A deal with an outside organization is the perfect opportunity to thrust him further into that role, so why isn’t he taking advantage?
Unless Pavel’s working another job. But Maksim’s always wanted to focus on one big job at a time. I doubt this is an exception.
