Page 24 of Kings of Violence

Lucas launches into an explanation about why it’s called football, which is a conversation we’ve had before. It still doesn’t make sense to me, and the familiarity of it should be soothing, but I can’t stop thinking about the pictures.

Did she go meekly, or did she fight them when they approached her? Did she moan or did she scream? Did Kotya’s massive cock make her cry?

I’d met her only a handful of times. She wasn’t supposed to be there the first time, but she’d come home unexpectedly while Sean Winters and I were discussing terms for a joint shipment. Sean had tried to kick her out of the room very fast, but she’d been interested enough in what she’d seen of me to hang around for a few minutes.

We’d had an instant connection, one I know I hadn’t imagined. She’d been just as intrigued by me as I had been with her, but look at where that had led: to me getting sent to fucking prison.

All I’d done to compromise our tenuous alliance was to bring her flowers. Beautiful flowers.Adventurousflowers, for the woman I’d been sure would be adventurous enough to play with me, Kotya, and Nikolai.

“Stay the fuck away from my sister, Yashin, or I’ll kill you,” Sean had said with a level of anger I hadn’t been expecting. I’d known they wouldn’t really want someone like me trying to court his younger sister, but that…

“Yuri?” Lucas’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “Earth to Yuri. I knew you weren’t paying attention when I started talking about how football is superior to any Russian sports.”

I shake my head to throw off the memories. “Ice hockey is superior to American football. Iceskatingis superior. And the entire world prefers real football.” I grin at him. “Americans only care about sports they excel in, which is why they only play sports nobody else does. They know they would lose otherwise.”

Lucas laughs, then he sobers. “I’m gonna miss you, Yuri,” he says seriously, looking at me. “Even if I can’t understand what you’re saying when you get pissed off or excited about something. What are you looking forward to most when you get out of this joint?”

“Good vodka,” I say. “Or bad vodka. Any vodka.”

It’s not the truth, but I can’t exactly tell him I’m looking forward to wrecking a girl’s pussy, one my boss and my friend had already completely destroyed.

“You’re a walking stereotype,” Lucas says, grinning at me. “Don’t forget about me when you’re out,da?”

I snort and lightly shove his shoulder. “Never. When you’re out in a few months, look me up. I know of some places that could use a man of your skills.”

Lucas’s eyes gleam. “I’m turning over a new leaf,” he says dryly. “I’m gonna be the best, most law-abiding citizen there ever was.”

I laugh, because of course I don’t believe him. A man who has already stolen over twenty cars is unlikely to stop now. “Of course. Well, if you don’t need a job, I don’t mind having friends, either,” I answer. “I like to take care of my friends.”

“I can always use friends in low places,” he says, elbowing me in the side.

Maybe I do need to start making a lot more friends. After all, Kotya and Nikolai can’t be counted on to keep me in mind.

At least I’ll get to take my frustrations out on Sierra when I get out of here.

It’ll be interesting to see what she’s become.

SIX

Konstantin

I’min the middle of sanding the surface of the scuffed dresser when my phone rings. My phone, sitting on the small table next to me, shows the call coming from an unknown number.

I should just ignore them, but it’s hard to know what calls are important. Whoever’s calling is lucky I wasn’t using the power sander, though, or else I wouldn’t have heard them at all.

I set the sandpaper aside and wipe my hands before I accept the call.

“Da?” I say, setting the phone to speaker. Depending on who’s calling, I can just keep working on restoring the dresser.

“This Konstantin Voronkov?” a male voice comes from the other line — male, and rough, and completely and utterly pissed off.

“Who’s speaking?” I ask. If they have my number, and they know my name, they’re probably connected to the criminal underworld somehow, but I’m not going to make things easy for them.

“Kyran Winters,” the man growls into the phone. “One of your men has someone that doesn’t fucking belong to him, and I want her back.”

Ah. Sierra’s brother, the one who’d defected.

“Kyran!” a softer voice admonishes.

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