Page 58 of Shattered Empire (Shattered World)

Dima shrugged.

“If it helps, I’ll hire the next one,” he volunteered.

“After this one quits, I’m hiring men,” I threatened lightly. “Beefy men.”

Dima crowed with laughter, his head thrown back at the absurd threat. “Those are always the most fun to dominate.” The fucker winked at me. The gall of this kid.

“You could just confront her,” I told him. “We know where she is.”

Dima sneered. “I have nothing to say to that traitorous bitch.”

The urge to roll my eyes had never been greater. So was the urge to choke this motherfucker. “You may not. But your dick surely does.”

Dima growled.

“Shut it.”

I chuckled. “Did I hit a nerve?”

The glare my enforcer sent me was enough to reduce a grown man to tears. Luckily, I happened to be immune to his charms.

“We should be landing in half an hour, sir.” Stephanie, the stewardess, smiled coyly, batting her fake eyelashes at me. Any appeal she might have held washed away with her desperation. “If you need anything before we land, please let me know. I’m happy to assist.” Another bat of her fake lashes, another teasing grin as her eyes roamed my body.

“Your resignation will do.”

Dima coughed, the vodka he just sipped spewing over his lap.

“I’m…sorry?” Stephanie’s face twisted into a state of confusion and panic, her eyes widening as her drawn-on eyebrows buried themselves in her hairline.

“This will be your last flight with us,” I snapped, handing Dima my handkerchief. “I employed you as a stewardess. Not a whore. Fucking Dima was one thing. Blatantly hitting on a man you know is married is another. Seek employment elsewhere, Miss Wise. It’ll be in your best interest.”

Her red lips wobbled uncertainly, her pleading eyes darting to Dima, hoping he would save her.

He wouldn’t.

With a subtle shake of his head, he turned his attention away from his latest conquest and onto the screen in front of him.

“You were shitty lay, anyway,” she sneered at Dima and stalked toward the front of the plane, her heels stomping against the lush carpet.

Dima cackled delightedly once she was out of sight. I ran a hand down my face and gave a frustrated sigh. “Male fucking stewards,” I mumbled, which just caused Dima to crow louder. “Stop fucking laughing,Svoloch’and tell me what the fuck we’re looking at when we land.”

“Okay. Okay.” Dima’s laugh settled, and he straightened his shoulders as he scrolled through the data Mark had sent over about Kirill. “Looks like he took over the oldPakhan’shouse on Old Queen Street. It’s a luxury townhome, built in 1775. Georgian style architecture, five bed—”

“Dima,” I snapped. “You’re not the house’s real estate agent.”

“Right.” Dima’s cheeks took on an uncharacteristic blush. I was trying to be patient with him since he rarely got to be point man on anything like this. He was an enforcer, not an intelligence gatherer. This situation was new to him, and I tried my best to remind myself of that.

“What’s his schedule like?” I asked. He was frozen, searching through the information Mark had provided, his confidence wavering as he tried to find the exact information I wanted.

“Creature of habit,” Dima informed me. “He rarely deviates from his routines. Leaves for the warehouse every morning at seven in a black Mercedes G-Class with two guards and one driver. No decoy car and no extra security.”

“Bold,” I murmured. Dima nodded in agreement.

“It’s like he thinks he’s untouchable.”

Kirill would. His ego rivaled the greatest cities. Even as a meager mafia runner, he always walked and talked as if he was a king among men. A Caesar among the Romans. Learning about my father’s heritage explained why he always thought himself better than the men he worked alongside. How he would puff out his chest and crow at them, flaunting authority he didn’t have.

Only, he did. It was that no one knew of it, and if they did, they didn’t care. It was one thing that constantly made him angry when I was growing up. He would take his anger and aggression out on my mother.

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