Page 114 of Kings of Cruelty

I crash into the door to the garage, and it opens easily. The ports are wide open, and I quickly hit the buttons to lower them again.

“Fuck!” Roman shouts. He’s standing by the motorcycles.

He’s standing bymymotorcycle.

I don’t hesitate. I shoot at him, but he’s already ducked behind the bike. My hand wavers with anger.

How dare he use it as cover.

“You’re Kostik’s little pet, right?” Roman shouts back. “His pathetic little bootlicker.”

My face heats in humiliation, but I can’t focus on that. It shouldn’t matter what Roman thinks of me. “Why don’t you come out and face me like a man,Romashka?” I emphasize the nickname, and it gets the desired reaction.

“You little fucker. Show some respect,” Roman peers out from behind the bike and shoots, but it’s a blind shot that misses widely. I get into position behind one of the sedans.

“I’d show respect if you deserved it,” I answer hotly. “But that’s the problem, right? You’re so jealous that Kot—Kostya’s ten times the man you are.” I have to catch myself not to use the overly intimate nickname, the one I’d defaulted to even before Kotya and I could have been considered lovers.

Unfortunately, Roman isn’t inattentive. He notices the slip. “Kotya? Are you—” He starts laughing. “Are you telling me that you’re?—”

I remove the earpiece and toss it as far away from myself as I can.

Roman is still laughing. “Are you literally sucking his cock? No fucking wonder.”

I know there’s no point in denying it. No matter what I say, Roman will take it as confirmation. I shouldn’t be ashamed of being bisexual. It has gotten me Sierra and Konstantin and Nikolai.

I remember how it was in Russia though, how fucking repressed I’d been, how scared of the derision and potential beatings.

“Kostya is gay, then? That’s why he said he didn’t have a woman.” Roman is still laughing, like it’s all a fucking joke to him.

I can take the insults for myself, but I won’t allow him to look down on Kotya.

I start sneaking closer to Roman. My grip on the gun is shaky with anger, but I have the knife, too. I don’t need a steady hand to stab him.

“Meanwhile, you’ve got how many women? And satisfy none of them,” I answer. “Is it even your child, Roman? I remember the way everybody talked about your wife. She was a loose one. Your mistress enjoyed the guards too, if rumor is to be believed. Is it even your child?”

“Shut your fucking mouth, you little cock-sucker!” Roman shouts, and he takes another wild shot—but he’s still too cowardly to relinquish his spot behind my bike.

I don’t know about his mistress, or how true any of those rumors are. I do know that men like Roman can’t stand even the idea of their women stepping out on them, though.

I get to the sedan parked next to my bike and wait. My choices aren’t great, but if I tip my bike, I can pin him under it and take him out.

I ready myself to do that, when the door to the main building opens.

“Boss?” a voice calls out.

“The garage door!” Roman shouts back. “Open it now!”

The guard obeys without question, and I curse. I rush toward Roman, but he gets on the bike and turns the ignition. The rain pours down all around us, obscuring the view ahead.

“Get the fuck off my bike!” I shout, aiming the gun at him—at my bike.

My beloved bike that had been a gift from Kotya, that I’ve cherished for years now. The bike I’d used to flirt with Sierraand take her on dates. The one I’d bent her over and made her scream with pleasure.

The bike that was my freedom.

Roman laughs and starts driving.

He’s going to get away.

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