Page 3 of Ruinous Need
He regards the bloody knife in my hand with satisfaction. “Nice work with this one.”
Sometimes, when he uses this voice as if I’m a trained dog, a shudder rolls down my spine. I have to uncoil the rage in my stomach and remind myself that we’re on the same team. Even if he can be a slimy bastard.
“How’s the empire?”
Semyon gives a tight-lipped smile. “That’s not your business anymore. You don’t get to tell me what to do, Vitya.”
I don’t care about the empire, really, but I want to finish my job. And I have a deal with my cousin — if I continue working as a hitman for the Bratva, I get access to the files on the former Pakhan and his associates, so I can find where they’re hiding.
Of course, he could have just given me the damn information without shackling me to this rotten organization. But that’s not Semyon’s style. Everything has a price.
As if on cue, Vontov gives a whimper. I kick him in the guts. He falls back to the floor, passing out from shock or pain or both.
I narrow my eyes at my cousin. I’m fine being kept out of his dealings. I want no part in the Bratva’s management. Still, Semyon can be unpredictable.
“If you’re not here to update me on the family business, why are you here?”
“I have a special assignment for you.” He softens his tone.
The wheedling edge to his voice tells me I will not like what he has to say.
I grit my teeth. “What?”
“Lisette Du Pont.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“She’s family. Or she will be. Soon.” He grins at me, his face cracking open in a way that feels unnatural. Whoever she is, my cousin is very pleased. It doesn’t suit him. “You remember everything, Vitya. Has my unusual engagement slipped your mind?”
The memory surfaces gradually. Once, three years ago, Semyon did get engaged. Somehow.
There was a big party to celebrate. I showed up hoping to find a piece of information about a target hiding in Siberia. It didn’t go well.
I ended the night provoking Vadim, Semyon’s massive right-hand man, into a fight.We’d never fought and I felt that I needed to test it out. It was like trying to fight a brick wall.
The mysterious fiancée did not attend the party. I’m sure the gossip mill were thriving on the rumors about her whereabouts for weeks, but I wasn’t paying attention. I can’t recall the story behind the girl or why she didn’t show.
“You know, the Irish have been circling closer and closer lately and I’m worried she’s in danger.”
The Irish have been interfering with warehouses and shipments lately. As far as I was aware, they weren’t making any personal attacks against the Bratva. That would be suicidal on their part.
I raise an eyebrow in skepticism. “They were tailing her last week,” he insists. “I have it on good authority from one of their own.”
“I don’t see why this concerns me.”
He gestures at the knife. “You’re my best hitman. You’re the best protection for her while I’m away taking care of things in Chicago.”
“Are you serious?” I can’t keep my voice from curling into a snarl at the end.
Semyon sits back and folds his hands behind his head. I know he likes to provoke me, but I can’t help it.
This is not a real job. I may not be the Pakhan, but I’m not a fucking guard.
“What the fuck, Semyon? A babysitting assignment? Do you really think this is the best use of my skills?”
Chicago is a mess, from the intel I’ve gathered. It could take Semyon months of politicking to sort out the rebellions and problems over there. Unless he takes my advice and burns the city to the ground to smoke out the rats.
Semyon frowns for a second and tuts his tongue. “Remember who works for who, Vitya.” He uses my pet name to taunt me, I know it. It works.
