Page 169 of Emerald Malice

“What… what about Katya?” he asks.

Blyat’. He must really love the woman if there’s even a question of him staying with her instead of coming with me.

“Need I remind you who abducted her in the first place?” I snarl. “You think any of our women are safe with Slavik around?”

He nods crisply before I even finish the question. “You’re right. Obviously, you’re—Fuck. Okay, I’m coming.” He follows after me, back straight, chin high, ready for war.

Good. I’ll need the best of him.

So will the women who depend on us.

As I pull us out of the driveway, I call Drogheda. I placed Arina within the institution well after Slavik left, but given my brother’s complete lack of moral fiber, I have to assume her location has been compromised.

Once the receptionist at Drogheda is made aware of who I am, she transfers me immediately to the chief psychiatric administrator.

“Dr. Fernando.”

“Mr. Kuznetsov,” he starts, his voice already shaking, “is there something I?—”

“I have an issue, and I’m sure you’ll do everything in your power to see that it’s solved.”

He rushes to assure me he will do exactly that, still tripping over every syllable. I can hear the frantic wheeze of breath rattling in and out of his chest.

It’s a pleasant reminder that, although there are a handful of men on this earth who seem to think they can kill me and take what’s mine, the rest of them are content to lie down and let me step right over them.

As it should be.

“My father is back in town after an extended absence. Considering he and my mother are still legally married, he has certain legal rights where her medical care is concerned.”

There’s a pregnant silence while I let Dr. Fernando fill in the blanks. “You wish for me to bar him from seeing her?”

“Bar him. Withhold information. Expel him from the property if you have to. He is not to be allowed admission into Drogheda.”

Dr. Fernando’s swallow is audible. “Th-the thing is, Mr. Kuznetsov, legally speaking, he has, as you said, certain rights?—”

“If he gets within a country fucking mile of my mother, it’s your neck I’m coming for. Is that enough motivation for you?”

“O-of course, Mr. Kuznetsov.”

“Good. If Slavik tries to make contact, I expect you to inform me immediately.”

“O-of cou?—”

I hang up and make a sharp turn that has Shura gripping his arm rest. “You really think he’ll target Arina?”

“I’m not taking any chances. Just to be safe, station some men on the premises.”

Shura pulls out his phone and starts typing. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Hunts Point. The quickest way to find Slavik is to find Viktor. Rats flock together, Shura. If we get one, we’ll get them all.”

My phone continues to buzz throughout the drive, though I ignore it as we pull up in front of the laundromat. Distant gunshots pop off. Homeless wanderers groan and shuffle down the sidewalks, though the wiser ones beat a hasty exit when they see me approach.

The laundromat hasn’t run a single laundry cycle in the two years I’ve owned it. Out front, the air is rich with the smell of rot and decay. Inside, the windows are dark and the mattress in the back of the room is in disarray, a stained sheet twisted in a heap on the floor. Empty bottles line the far end of the room. A moldy burrito lies on a paper late in the center of a flaking card table.

All surefire signs that my brother was here.

“He hasn’t been back in a couple of days,” Shura observes, wrinkling his nose against the stench.

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