Page 36 of Ruthless Bonds

State-of-the-art medical equipment lined one wall, while floor-to-ceiling windows opposite offered a view of the garden. Not that it mattered. He hadn’t opened his eyes since that night in the hospital. Constantine had always been five steps ahead of our enemies. He had a sixth sense that had thwarted multiple attempts on my life. So how come he hadn’t seen this coming?

He’d been brought in as a John Doe, found unconscious in an alley with a gunshot wound to the shoulder. The bullet had gone through and through, missing any arteries. They’d performed a CT scan and found he had a mild concussion, which was why he was confused and in and out of consciousness.

By all accounts, he was fine. It wasn’t until the morning rounds that they’d found him comatose. During a shift change, one of the nurses on our payroll recognized him and contacted Gavriil right away.

When I got him home, our personal doctor took over. But that just left us with more questions. Because all the tests revealed he was fine. The brain scans, the toxicology report—there was nothing wrong with him on paper.

He just wasn’t waking up.

I wouldn’t stop looking for answers until he did. Someone had gotten to him, and they were going to pay.

My gaze fell to his face. He looked peaceful, and exactly the same as when I’d visited days ago. Hischest rose and fell, the ventilator’s background noise a constant reminder. I sat down next to his bed and gripped his hand.

Gavriil came by an hour later with two manila folders. “I’ve got news.”

I opened the first folder, finding transcripts from a recent licensing board meeting. Deputy Mayor Wilson had raised numerous objections regarding approval for Club Void’s license, including concerns regarding noise pollution and crime rates.

Behind the transcripts were personal emails between Wilson and the owners of two upscale clubs. My competitors were paying him off for blocking my license. Seeing how I’d already paid him off earlier that year, it looked like he was trying to play both sides.

Well, that was going to be a problem.

“Do we have potential replacements lined up for him?” I handed the folder back to Gavriil.

“We do. Assistant Deputy Mayor Helena Frank is on board should Wilson—step down.” His jaw clenched, and he handed me the other folder. “But more drastic measures may be needed.”

I opened the folder to a pile of photos. They were of women posed in various positions, mostly sexual. In some photos, Wilson was also participating. Something was off about their eyes, though. “Are these women…?”

“Dead? Yes, they are.” His face twisted in disgust. “I’ve gathered that most are prostitutes. Some are runaways. Bela confirmed he’d been to the club. He saw two different women there. Both stated he had disturbing tastes.”

Looked like I was going to pay a personal visit to the deputy mayor and handle him myself.

The door swooshed open and my head housekeeper, Anya, walked in with Nadya limping closely behind her. Anya, who was in her late sixties and oversaw my house staff, had worked for my father since I was a child, and had come with me to the States when I was in my teens. Nadya had also come from my father’s estate and had been with me five years or so.

“My apologies, Pakhan.” Anya’s hand flew to her chest. “The nurse said you would be done visiting, and we came to clean Mr. Constantine’s room.”

“Not to worry, Anya. We were just on our way out.” I stood and gave her a kiss on her cheek. Anya was closer to a mother than my mother was.

“Go on, Nadya, put the flowers down and get started.” Anya clapped her hands, and Nadya limped over to the other side of the room.

“Those are beautiful, Nadya. I’m sure Constantine would appreciate them.” I nodded at the vases in her hands. Her eyes widened, her cheeks turning red as she nodded and placed the flowers down.

In the hallway, Gavriil chuckled, shaking his head. “That girl is terrified of her own shadow. It’s amazing she’s lasted this long here.”

“Nadya? She worked for my father. God knows what he put her through.” The thought reminded me that my father would come here in a few short weeks and my irritation returned. “Let’s go pay Wilson a visit.”

*** ***

It was close to midnight by the time Deputy Mayor Wilson got home to his lavish condo in Crown Heights. He fumbled with his keys, dropping them more than once before stumbling inside.

I sat relaxed in his expensive chesterfieldarmchair as he dropped his suitcase by the front door. He flipped the lights on in the living room and stripped off his wrinkled suit jacket. He saw me then and froze.

“Good evening, Deputy Mayor Wilson.” I swirled a glass of Scotch, smirking at how wide his eyes had gotten.

“Mr. Zokrov. What—how did you get in here?” His head snapped to the right as Gavriil came from the kitchen holding a manila folder, Sago following behind him.

“I’m confused, Deputy Mayor. I’ve paid you handsomely to ensure there are no issues with my licenses. Yet you’re the one holding up their approval.” I took a sip of the Scotch, enjoying the burn going down my throat.

“I can explain.” He took a step back, holding up his hands.

---