Page 70 of The Primary Pest
“Now, we wait.” Peter snapped his fingers, and Chet jumped like a confused dog. “Get me something to drink.”
Chet found a half-empty whiskey bottle and handed it over.
“Let’s all drink. To Ukraine and pretty women.” Peter drank deeply and handed the bottle to Chet.
Chet drank his fill and handed the bottle back. “Or pretty boys. Huh, Kolisnychenko? C’mon. That’s what you’re really into, isn’t it? Boys like our little hostage.”
Dmytro smirked. “They have pretty boys there too, my friend. Rest assured you won’t be lonely.”
“I meant for you!” Chet blinked when he realized how that sounded. “No way do I want—”
“Shut up.” Peter snatched the bottle back. “You both disgust me.”
“I ain’t like him, boss. I was just playing with the kid. I wasn’t actually gonna do nothing.”
Peter tipped the bottle back for another deep swallow. He handed it to Dmytro, who wiped the neck off carefully on his sleeve.
“I’m equal opportunity,” Dmytro said before he took a small sip. “If you don’t like it, you can eat a dick.”
“I don’t like dick, you fag fucker.” Chet glared.
“Don’t worry, Chet. Is that short for Chester?” Dmytro lowered his voice. “In Ukraine, I’ll find you boys who dress like girls so no one will be the wiser.”
“Fuck. You,” Chet muttered darkly. “We’ll see who the boss thinks is worth keeping.”
Dmytro boasted, “No one has lived to complain about my job performance yet.”
“Me neither, brother.” Peter took the bottle back with a chilly smile. “We have a bargain, you and me.”
“We do.” Dmytro nodded.
“Don’t test it.” Peter drained the bottle and threw the empty against the wall.Smash. The reek of alcohol mingled with oil and the odor of anxious men.
Dmytro winked. “With great paychecks comes great discretion.”
“It had better.” Peter studied him as if to spot any duplicity. “It just better, Kolisnychenko, or I will salt the earth with the bones of your children.”
Dmytro nodded and rested his eyes while Chet watched the radar and Peter listened to the chatter on the radio. Peter kept a keen eye on him, so there was nothing Dmytro could do but wait. He didn’t know much about boats, and he knew less about navigation. He was only a warrior. His time to act would come, but not while Peter and Chet outnumbered him in the close confines of the bridge, armed and watching him like raptors.
Dmytro had to bide his time. Look for an opening.
Find any crack between Peter and Chet and widen it.
When the call came via a satellite phone Peter wore strapped to his hip, Dmytro made that one more thing on the list of items he would try to get his hands on—either to get help or, if all hope was lost, to text Sasha and Pen one last time.
Peter activated voice-altering software before putting the call on speaker.
While Peter argued with the caller, Chet trained his weapon on Dmytro. They still didn’t trust him, which meant he had to sit perfectly still to keep from getting his ass shot. So far they stayed together, making it impossible for him to take one out while the other wasn’t looking.
Impossible, too, to make things right with Ajax.
God help him. He knew what Ajax had to be thinking. If he didn’t believe Dmytro was looking out only for himself, then he was a fool.
Yet… Ajax was a kind of fool too. The hopeful kind. The romantic kind who rushed right in where one might say angels should not go.
“That’s right. I saidno.” Peter’s agitated words broke through Dmytro’s melancholy. “For fuck’s sake, I saidno. You got your proof of life lastnight.”
Dmytro shot him an I-told-you-so look.
