Page 10 of Beautiful Secrets
Who the fuck knows what Dimitri wants with me. If I show weakness, he’ll come down on me like a ton of bricks.
“I’m not here to chit-chat,” I say.
And that’s how I should have ended the sentence, but no. I decide to lay every single fucking card on the table for Dimitri to see. “You Russki bastards went and put your slimy paws over every one of our neighborhoods.” I blow out a plume of smoke, shake my head. “Think we weren’t gonna notice?”
“We?” Dimitri lets out a wet laugh that turns into a cough. “You were…unwell, and your brother…he turned his back. Dangerous thing to do in this business. We could have put a bullet in it.”
I don’t know if he’s being metaphorical, or if he’s actually threatening Kill, but one moment I’m sitting down all calm and shit, the next Paddy and Tadhg each have an arm against my chest, holding me back.
Dimitri laughs again. “Loyalty is such a precious thing,” he says. “And rare.” His eyes flicker. He tries to control it, but I know who he wanted to look at.
Yuri.
As if I could give a fuck about whatever incestuous shit they have going on.
I wrench my arms free, smooth down my suit.
I almost regretted wearing it—I’m the only one who’s dressed up at all. Everyone else is in jeans or chinos or fucking sweat pants.
But now I’m glad I did. Because it’s obvious I’m the only one in the room who came to talk business. All Dimitri wants to do is yak on about loyalty and my stint at Blackmoore.
Is that why he brought me here?
To gloat?
“Was there a point to this?” I ask him, lifting my hands. “If there was, then you have five seconds to get to it before I walk out of here.”
Dimitri studies me for a second, and then nods. “Sit, sit.”
But I stay standing.
He lets out a long sigh that’s pale with smoke. “What is it with you Hendrys?” he says. “Always in a rush.”
I cock my head, and Dimitri hurriedly lifts a hand. “Yes, yes.” He takes a drag of his cigarette, points out the Barisovas. “We’ve been discussing our future on this piece of land of yours.”
Piece…?
Well, fuck, I guess Russia is big enough to swallow the whole of Europe and consider it a fucking appetizer.
“See, some of the locals, they are not very hospitable.” Dimitri nods a little, as if he’s waiting for me to agree.
“You’re Russian,” I tell him. “What did you expect? People falling to their knees around every corner, begging to suck your dick?”
He laughs at this, but there’s an edge to it that makes me think I’m coming close to crossing the line. “There are only traces of the Hendry Brothers still around,” he says. “A little bit here, a little bit there. Just enough to make my life difficult.”
I cock my head at him again. It’s all coming together now—how he brushed off news of us busting his shipment. His magnanimous attitude. The invite to his house. He wants us to be friends, when I want nothing more than to eviscerate him and every other Russki in this place.
Scotland belongs to the Hendrys. Then, possibly, the Connollys. The fact that we’ve been pushing back Dimitri for over ten years—
No, I guess that’s not accurate anymore.
We had Scotland tied down seven ways from Sunday years before the Vasilievs arrived. Five years, Kill and I kept him in his place. Then I went on holiday, and he clawed his way back up the food chain.
So why the fuck am I here? Does he want to make sure I won’t be a threat?
No.
He didn’t need me up close and personal for that.
