Page 89 of Crowned

“Elyah fucking Morozov. What are you doing here?” Kirill greets the newcomer with an embrace like the man is his long-lost brother. “This is Konstantin Zhukov, myPakhan.Kostya, Elyah and I met in prison.”

Elyah nods respectfully, though he doesn’t smile. There’s something hard and bleak in his eyes, despite the fact that he seems to be glad to have found Kirill. “I am honored to meet you,Pakhan.”

I nod politely, staying in my seat, though I’m curious about this man. I have never seen Kirill happy to see anyone except myself.

“You need work? We can give you work.” Kirill turns to me. “This man is a fucking machine, and I would trust him with my life. I watched him take out three guys at once many times. Everyone was trying to kill Pushka, and no one could.”

“I do need work,” Elyah says, turning to me. His expression is proud, and his tone is even. “I was in prison and then I was in America. I need to start again.”

When he finishes speaking, his cold blue eyes meet mine.

What a chatty fellow.

“What kind of work are you looking for?”

“Anything,” is Elyah’s reply. From his attitude and his myriad of tattoos, he seems like the sort of man who is capable of anything. “In America, I was working for Ivan Kalashnik. Driver. Bodyguard. I was with him almost every day for months.”

“Why are you not with him now?” I ask.

“He was shot in the head.”

The man’s frosty bluntness has my eyebrows creeping up my forehead. “Wasn’t it your job to make sure he wasn’t shot in the head?”

I watch him closely, wondering if Elyah is going to become flustered or defensive. His deadpan tone or expression never wavers.

“My oldPakhangot himself killed by police. I was getting him out of there. He would be alive today if he had listened to me.”

A smile spreads over my face. When Kirill came to me at the age of sixteen, he impressed me by his abilities and his blunt manner. Now, he calls me Kostya, and I should tell him not to be so overfamiliar, but I don’t want to. I like how he carries himself through this world. I would have burned the fucking Lugovskayas’ house down if I were him.

Kirill would never lie to me, and I sense that this Elyah is the brutally honest type as well.

“All right. I am getting married, and I need more protection. You seem capable enough.”

Elyah shakes his head. “This is not the work for me. Send me to the streets. I will run drugs. Guns. It doesn’t matter.”

I frown at him. “This work is better. The pay is better. Why would you want that?”

“You do not want me near your wife. I nearly fucked Ivan’s wife.”

Kirill and I exchange glances, and I can see he’s as shocked by this admission as I am. Holy fucking hell. HisPakhan’swife? “You’re lucky your guts are inside your body. Why did you do this?”

Bitterness creeps into Elyah’s expression. “She was beautiful, and he beat her. I lost my head over her.”

It’s difficult to imagine a man as icy as Elyah losing his head over anyone.

“Then she betrayed all of us and nearly got me killed.”

“What would you do if you saw her again?” I ask.

Elyah’s blue eyes turn even colder. “Wring her fucking neck. All women, they are not worth the hassle. I will not touch anyone for the rest of my life unless she is a whore I can fuck and send on her way.”

I should send him away. With a record like his, anyone would be forgiven for thinking that this man is bad luck. I turn my vodka glass in my hand, thinking.

“Come to the house tomorrow. Meet the other men. Meet my future wife.”

Elyah frowns. “I didn’t expect this. I only want enough money to eat and have a roof over my head. Why would you trust me in your home?”

“I don’t trust a man who hasn’t felt the burn of betrayal. It’s a useful learning experience.”

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