Page 75 of Thorns of Lust
“I bet you did, fucking Pakhan,” he grumbled. “Nothing would make you happier than to see my tombstone, right?” He was wrong. I knew how much Tatiana loved her brothers and that was the only reason I wouldn’t want to see him dead. “Well, likewise, motherfucker.”
He’d try to kill me if he knew my obsession with his sister. Not that he’d succeed. I’d stake my life that Tatiana didn’t share our encounter with her brothers, which left only one other reason why Sasha would call. He wanted to collect on his debt.
Seven years ago, Maxim fucked up and went after Sasha’s woman. My twin brother wasn’t too smart when it came to his dick. But then there weren’t too many men who were. The problem was that Maxim didn’t know how to kill people nor hire killers without tracing it back to himself. So when Sasha found out that my twin brother went after Branka Russo, he was set on killing him.
In order to spare my brother’s life, I offered to owe him. I’d stake my life, Sasha was finally ready to collect.
“So, you’re ready to collect the debt,” I drawled.
“Yes, yours and your dumbfuck brother’s,” he snapped.
“Careful, Nikolaev,” I snarled. “There are only so many liberties you’ll get.”
“What-the-fuck-ever.” My lips curved. Sasha hadn’t had it easy. He’d been pining after Branka Russo for years. Blue balls probably took a whole new meaning with him. “I’m collecting and I need a plane. Your brother will have to produce a motorcycle.”
I didn’t even fucking want to know what he needed a motorcycle for.
“When?”
“Two weeks from now,” he grumbled. “First Saturday of summer. What a fucking joke!”
“Spare me your theatrics, Nikolaev,” I said in a cold voice. Knowing Sasha, he’d probably crash the wedding, kill everyone, and then kidnap the screaming bride. “You can have my plane. Just text me the information on the departure city.”
“It’s certainly a pleasure doing business with you, Konstantin.”
God, it fucking irked me to be called Konstantin. Didn’t he fucking know that my first name is Illias? Actually fuck it, I didn’t fucking care what he called me. I’d make his sister call me Illias. She was all that mattered.
“I wish I could say likewise.”
* * *
Maxim walked into my office twenty minutes later.
Fuck, he looked like shit. Reeked of shit too. White powder and alcohol. Possibly piss.
“Where in the fuck did you get it?” I hissed, glowering at him. I owned every drug dealer on the West Coast, and they all knew what’d happen to them if they sold to my brother.
“Get what?” he grumbled, his pupils dilated. He was high as a kite right now. Goddamn him. Having a drug addict for a brother was a liability. I couldn’t trust him with any work anymore.
“What did you use this time?” I hissed. “Crack, heroin, some other opioid?”
Maxim’s lips thinned, refusing to answer. It didn’t fucking matter. Whatever it was, it was bad.
“Who gave you the shit?” I repeated. I was two inches taller than Maxim. It was enough for me to tower over him.
My brother blinked, his eyes unfocused. Fuck, he was so far gone, I didn’t think I could reach him anymore. Each day he fell deeper and deeper into depression, wallowing in his own hell and refusing to move on. Some days I wondered if maybe Maxim’s hell hadn’t started the day we witnessed our mother’s death.
“Who, Maxim?” I roared, gripping his collar.
“Takahashi.”
The name sent an echo through my office, a threat so calm and deadly it stilled the air and washed over me.
I knew it. I just fucking knew it at that very moment, I’d have to choose between my brother and Tatiana.
And soon.
TWENTY-FIVE
