If I wasn’t already convinced that Maksim is doing everything in his power to make me miserable, this would have done it. As I leave Alexei’s place, my phone blows up with texts telling me to pick up Dmitri, insisting that I drive him all the way to the fucking deal.
I don’t like having people in my car. I like spending time in an enclosed space with loudmouthed, cocky idiots even less.
At least I don’t have to wait. When I get to his apartment complex, Dmitri’s outside and waiting, like an eager child on their first day of school. He slams the car door behind him, and I’m torn between cringing and chewing him out. Before I get a chance to decide, he’s already talking.
I want to hit my head against the steering wheel.
“Hey, you’re Voronov, right? I’m Dmitri Kamensky.” He doesn’t wait for a response, shifting the seat to make room for his legs while he drums his fingers against the center console, looking around like he expects me to have piles of weapons and cash in the back seat.
I don’t. There’s just a car seat.
I’ve driven around with Daniil and Niko enough times that it became a pain in the ass to keep taking it out, so it’s been a permanent installation since Niko’s grown big enough to use it.
Dmitri pauses when he sees it, but his enthusiasm doesn't dim in the slightest.
He looks exactly like what he is: a young kid who’s getting his first real job. Messy hair, cheap suit, and a muted panic in his eyes that he’s hiding behind a cocky grin. Fuck, I doubt he’s even old enough to drink, and Maksim’s trusting him with something as important as an arms deal?
I don’t try to fill the silence, pulling from the curb and starting the long drive toward the meeting point.
We’ve only gone five miles when he reaches over to turn on the radio. I slap his hand away, and he flinches, hissing as he pulls it toward his chest.
“Fuck, man. That’s still tender.” I look at him, only now spotting the tattoo on the back of his hand under the passing streetlights.
“Yeah? Is it fresh?”
“Yeah, it’s only a little over a week old. Looks sick, right?”
He turns it toward me, showing off a tattoo of a spider that takes up most of the back of his hand. It’s realistic enough that if it was on my hand, I’d probably end up smacking it every time I caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye.
I’m not sure if he’s just that proud of it, or if he’s trying to impress me, so I nod. I’m no stranger to ink, but I don’t really care about anyone else’s.
But I’m also not trying to be an asshole. It’s not Dmitri’s fault that I’m having a shitty day.
“Sure, kid. Is this your first time on a job like this?”
He laughs, going right back to drumming his fingers incessantly, this time against the dash. “Is it that obvious?” I grind my teeth together so I don’t shove his hands down his throat. “I’ve been keeping my head down, but it must be working for me if I’m getting to work with someone like you.”
“What do you mean ‘someone like me’?”
He grins, looking even younger, and any thoughts I had about telling him he is just part of my punishment for pissing Maksim off fly out the window.
“What, you fishing for compliments?”
“That’s not worth justifying with a response.”
He laughs, the sound echoing through the car.
Fuck, maybe I should have let him turn on the radio.I just need to get through the next couple hours, I tell myself.Then I can check in on Blair.
“Man, come on. You know you’ve got a reputation, right? Working with someone like you is cool. And not to sound like some inexperienced kid or whatever, but it’s more than I thought I was going to get. Not this soon, anyway.”
I try to remember what it was like to be in his place. The problem is I don’t know if I was ever that bright-eyed and excited about this sort of work. I was raised in it. I grew up with the expectation that this would be my life. It’s all I’ve ever known.
Apparently, that isn’t the case for this kid.
“Do you know what you’re getting into tonight?”
Or is Maksim throwing you blindly into the deep end?