Page 99 of Toxic Salvation
“Mr. Krayev!” he blurts. I can only see the whites of his eyes. “Is The Don expecting you?”
My lip curls in distaste. “He’s no don, Semyon. And calling him one is a good way to get in trouble with the real boss. Open the door.”
He steps to the side without another word of protest.
We walk into the room. The walls are lined with thick gold brocade and the sofas are a ghastly mix of velvet and satin. I guess he hasn’t just named the place after his mistress—it looks like he let her decorate, too.
Everything screams nouveau riche.
Everything screams insecurity.
Everything screamsIhor.
Ihor himself doesn’t see us enter because he’s too busy burying his face in the tits of some busty blonde whose eye makeup suggests she wanted to look like the hottest raccoon in San Francisco. Aside from the two of them, the room is empty.
Pavel and I sit down on the leather chairs facing the couch. I grab one of the empty beer bottles and throw it at the wall. At the eruption of splintering glass, Ihor rips his face up and gawks at us.
“What the?—?”
“Sorry to interrupt your little hobby.” I smirk. “But this just couldn’t wait.”
Ihor’s cheeks flush. “Kovan, Pavel—you could have picked a better time to visit. This is Candy,” he squints at the blonde who’s been fiddling with her tits while she stares at Pavel. “Or is it Brandy?”
“We really don’t give a fuck,” I say. “Brandy, Candy, you can hit the road. We need a little alone time with the old man. I’m sure the Viagra will keep ‘til you get back in here.”
She nods and scurries out.
Ihor clicks his tongue with irritation. “Remind me to fire that whore when I’m done with the two of you. She ought to know who she takes orders from.”
“You sure about that?” Pavel interjects. “You two seemed to really enjoy each other’s company.”
“Why the fuck are you here?” he demands.
“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page, is all,” I tell him casually. “Yana wasn’t exactly on her best behavior on her last visit to see Luka.”
Ihor snorts. “I don’t know why she’s even bothering with that kid. He’s a little bitch, just like his father was.”
Pavel jerks to his feet, his hand on his holster, ready to kill.
“Tell the boy to sit down before he hurts himself,” Ihor drawls, pulling his legs into a figure four.
“Who are you calling a boy?” spits Pavel.
“Brat,” I grit, “sit down. If you can’t keep your cool, then step outside.”
“Choose a girl if it helps,” Ihor suggests, an ugly sneer dancing across his lips. “Touch her, fuck her, beat her—they’re used to all sorts of fun here.”
Pavel’s hands are balled into fists and I’m certain he’s planning on using them if I don’t stop him. “Pavel,” I boom, “take a walk.”
His eyes move to me. He’s angry enough to start swinging, but he doesn’t want to disobey me. I give him one final nod and he stalks out of the room, slamming the door in his wake.
“That one’s a hothead,” remarks Ihor. “He might make a goodvorif he weren’t so damn stupid.”
“If you say one more word about him, I will take your tongue here and now,” I tell him calmly.
“Is that right?” Ihor scoffs. “Look at you, making threats like a real-lifepakhan. That one almost had me convinced.”
I pull out my phone and have the satisfaction of watching Ihor’s hand twitch toward his own trousers. “Not convincing enough for you, huh?” I smile. “Well, then, maybe this will help.”
