Page 98 of Vasily the Hammer

I pound on Vasily’s arm.

Until the gun is knocked out of Tony’s hand.

By a flip-flop of all things.

And then Tony, a far smaller, weaker man than Kostya, is bowled over by Camilla, who screams with all the fury of a petite Italian woman with gigantic hair and a nephew-by-choice to save.

Kseniya swoops in to retrieve Artom before he gets hurt in the tussle, jams her foot into the thrown flip-flop, and mutters, “Mother-in-law taught me that one.”

The relief that hits me is palpable, and my brain foolishly thinks it’s all over, only for blinding pain to rip through me as a bang deafens me.

Chapter 30

Vasily

It’s a bad shot.

It’s a miracle.

Kostya and those damn guns that don’t need to be cocked, making them silent as anything until the bullet is already ripping through the air. The only reason I move at all is Kostya grunts as he pulls the trigger. Considering his nose was just bashed in, I’m sure it’s hard to stifle involuntary sounds.

I’m pissed the asshole isn’t dead, but that’s about to be rectified.

The shot is low, crazy low, and the way I’m already turning has the unfortunate effect of putting Ana’s legs, not mine, in the line of fire. She collapses in my arms, and I have to duck behind the sea of benches to protect her when I really want to be killing the fuck out ofKostya.

A symphony of guns getting drawn and cocked tells me that taking Ana to the ground was the best call. I do one quick check, see Kseniya taking Artom outside, and then my focus is all on Ana.

“Fuck!” she hisses. “Holy . . . fucking . . . what the f-f-f-fuck?”

I’m pretty sure she’s never uttered that word in her life, but the fact that she’s that spitting mad and in pain tells me she’s not bleeding out. I feel around, not immediately seeing blood on the black fabric of her mourning dress, finally finding a damp spot on her leg. A quick hike of her skirt shows the wound to be on her thigh. It’s nasty, but it’s on the outside, where it’s all fat and muscle. It’s a gash; I know she’s got to be in serious pain, and it’s going to be a gnarly scar. But I put her hand over it for pressure to slow the bleeding, and it’s enough for now.

Everyone who was slowly evacuating is rushing now, and people are getting jostled in the stampede. I can only worry about so many people, so I crowd Ana in case anyone rushes through here as I find Miguel and track him to make sure he and Maribel get out safely. On the other side, Gino’s torn between his kids and his wife, who’s still struggling with Tony, but he’s able to pass the kids off to another man before ripping Tony and Camilla apart, smashing his foot right into Tony’s crotch while he’s already on the ground.

Yeah, I’m going to try to recruit Gino. I want a guy who’s willing to kick another man in the dick to protect a woman. That’s hardcore.

People fall. There’s screaming. The undercover agents have their hands full with the civilians; for better or for worse, that’s always their top priority in a feud. I may be the hero in this moment, Dima and Gino heroes, too, but we’re as villainous as Tony and Kostya. Ana and Camilla? They chose to align themselves with us. A faithful mob wife is barely better than her husband. They can’t even be used as evidence in court.

We have to defend ourselves. We have to defend our own.

So it’s just me against Kostya, and I’m the only one who can protect Ana when Kostya growls, “Why can’t you just die like your brother did?”

I start to yell at him to leave Artyom’s death out of this. For all the ways I failed Ana and Artom the past six years, my greatest failing was Artyom bleeding out in my arms when I should have been protecting him. Kostya wasn’t there that night, he doesn’t know—

But then I remember what Dima said, that Kostya’s always wanted this position. We’re still piecing together everything he orchestrated to take over the brigade at a major advantage. He handed me the vial of heroin to kill myself, but he also had the print shops destroyed and pinned the attacks on Dima. He had the IRA in his pocket and got the guns transported out of Flagstaff so he’d be able to sell them.

Was the IRA in his pocket the last time, too? Did he convince them to kill my brother? “You did it, didn’t you? You killed Artyom.”

“Everything was fine. He was building the brigade. Slower than I hoped, but he was building it, and then he just had to get married.”

He tries to shoot me then. I’m ready for it, already throwing myself over Ana, hopefully protecting us both, when I hear the dead click of an empty chamber.

I grab for my gun the same time Kostya crashes into me.

Ana screams in pain as we land on her. I manage to throw Kostya several feet away to protect her, but he grabs my gun. We’re right back where we started.

“I trusted you!” I roar, slamming into his shins as he tries to stand.

“And you’re a fool!” he spits back, pistol-whipping my shoulder with my far heavier gun. I feel it right to the bone, but I’ll handle that bruise later. “A profitable one, though. Slid right into thepakhanslot when I opened it up for you. I would have given you at least a couple more years if Dima hadn’t told me he was thinking it was time to bring the bitch and your spawn to LA.”

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