Page 156 of Dance of Devils
“We need to meet, Kir,” he grunts. “Now.”
I tense. “What’s this about?”
“In person, Kir,” he sighs. “My restaurant in the West Village. You know it,da?”
I do. Truth be told, I’ll miss it when Dimitri pulls out of New York after our deal goes through. It’s not easy to find honest-to-Godvareniki—Russian dumplings—in the city.
I agree to meet him and head back to the car to drive downtown.
Dimitri’s men nod when I arrive, ushering me through the back door of the closed restaurant.
“Ahhh, Kir.” Dimitri stands from the table he’s sitting at in the back, offering me his hand before we both sit. He pushes an empty glass in front of me and splashes expensive vodka from the open bottle on the table into it. We clink glasses and drink, then I set my glass down and eye him.
“So, what was so important?”
His face darkens. “It’s…not pleasant business, Kir.” Dimitri sighs. “This is a big ask… I’m going to need you to restrain yourself in a moment.”
My eyes narrow. “Restrainmyself? Why?”
He looks across the room to his two men standing by the kitchen door. “Bring him,” he grunts.
Everything dissolves to a black and red mist when the motherfucker walks in. I’m on my feet in a millisecond, a snarl on my lips as I grab the vodka bottle by the neck, fully preparedto smash it on the edge of the table and use the broken part to carve a hole in Lou’s chest.
“Kir, please!” Dimitri barks, moving to me. “This is business.”
“The onlybusinessI have with this piece of shit,” I hiss, staring at the manager of The Mirage, “is the business of putting him in the ground, where he belongs.”
Lou bristles, glaring at me through a still badly fucked-up face. He’s got bandages on the bridge of his nose and over one eye, a brace around his neck, one arm in a sling, and is leaning heavily on a cane to walk.
Good.
I'm planning all the ways I’ll break him again when Dimitri places a steadying hand on my shoulder.
“I realize I’m asking a lot,” he hisses. “Butthis. Is. Business, Kir. Put aside your personal thoughts. We all do it when we must.”
I grit my teeth as Lou limps over and drops heavily into a chair next to Dimitri.
“Well,” Dimitri sighs. “I suppose we can skip the part where you pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about when I say we need to speak about the girl currently living at your house.”
“What thefuckdid you call me here for, Dimitri,” I growl quietly.
“It would appear we have a…” He grimaces. “Hiccupin our agreement.”
I grunt. “Ouragreementdoesn’t have anything to do with this maggot. Although, I’m quite close to making sure it does—as in, our deal doesn’thappenunless I get to bring this piece of shit toa quiet basement somewhere and play with him for a month or so with a blowtorch and some gardening shears.”
Lou’s mangled face pales as he glances nervously at Dimitri.
“Mr. Moskovic,” he gulps. “We…we had a deal?—”
“Shut up,” Dimitri mutters at him before he turns his attention back to me, sighing. “Unfortunately, Kir, Mr. Cassavetti here, along with his club, are under my protection. As you know, he performs a certain service for me, and in exchange, he is permitted to run the day-to-day operations of the club as he sees fit.”
My eyes narrow. “Does that include assaulting the girls who work there?”
Dimitri’s eyes glint darkly, but he spreads his hands and shrugs.
“It’shisclub, Kir.”
“Yeah, motherfucker,” Lou spits. “It’s my fucking—Mr. Moskovic!”
