Page 67 of Shattered Empire (Shattered World)

“Because he finally got what he wanted after all these years.”

“I’m not following.”

“The one piece of evidence that could tear apart all of his plans,” Mark explained, “he believes to be dead. Which means—”

“He won’t see me coming.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Jesus,” Ivan muttered over the comm unit. “I forgot how boring he is. Kirill has barely left the house most of the week. How is he running the city like this?”

Two fucking weeks. That was how long it had taken to spread the seed of doubt through Kirill’s men and put together all the information we could on him. I felt like a damn private investigator. Then again, this was what my company did.

I just didn’t.

Sitting in a car, waiting for hours for someone to make a move or not was not my idea of a good time. That was why I hired others to do it for me. I was a man of action. Not a spy.

“He had a few whores delivered this morning that still haven’t come out.” Dima smirked. “I wouldn’t say he isn’t havinganyfun. Who would want to leave that? One of them had breasts the size of watermelons.”

Ivan retched. “I didn’t need that particular image in my head,idiot.”

Dima chuckled. “Maybe I can grab one on their way out,” he pondered theatrically, tapping his chin. Not that Ivan could see him from his position at the back entrance. What scared me was that he sounded serious. “You know, interrogate them a little.”

Ivan groaned dramatically.

“Do you really want to be sticking your dick where he did?” I asked my enforcer, who sat next to me in our stake-out car. “You don’t know how many whores he has fucked or what kind of diseases he may have. Used pussy isn’t always good pussy.”

Another groan from Ivan.

“Eh.” Dima shrugged, tipping his hand back and forth, undecided. “I’ll risk it. I doubt he stuck it in all her holes. I’ll just utilize the ones he didn’t.”

“Khristos,” Ivan swore. “Gag him, will you?”

I snickered.

“Oh,” Dima lifted his eyebrows. “Someone has a kinky side.”

“All right, children,” Mark scolded through the video screen. “Don’t make me put you on separate comm lines.”

Dima winked at Mark while Ivan grunted. “Please do. Before I shoot him in the face.”

My enforcer gasped, drawing his hand to his chest like some Shakespearean actor. “Not the face,mudak. It’s my moneymaker, youglupyy malen’kiy gnom.”

“Who are you calling a stupid little gnome, you…”

“Enough.” My voice thrummed dangerously inside the car. “For fuck’s sake. I thought I was supposed to be the younger brother, Ivan?”

Dima sniggered, and I went to round on him next before I was interrupted by Mark’s amused voice. “He’s got a call.”

“Patch it through so we can all hear.”

Silence, a few keyboard clicks, and then the car was filled with ringing.

“Kirill.”

A bolt of hate raced up my spine at hearing his voice for the first time after so many years. The man who’d kidnapped and murdered my mother. Who tossed me on the street without a second thought to further his own greed and need for power.

His voice was hoarse and grating. He coughed, his lungs wet and rattling like a pack a day smoker.

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