Page 3 of The Primary Pest
“It wouldn’t matter if I did.”
“All right.” Bartosz nodded and said in Ukrainian, “He’s like you, my very special snowflake. Did you bring an extra patch?”
“Not this time.” When Bartosz started to snicker, Dmytro gave him a warning grunt. To Ajax he said, “Your lucky day. I have meclizine. One tablet and you should be fine.” He handed a blister pack of pills to Ajax along with a bottled water. “Make sure to drink all of it. The medication will give you dry mouth.”
Dmytro popped the pill and cracked open his own water.
“Nighty night, boys.” Bartosz’s voice took on a teasing quality. “You’ll both be sound asleep before we hit the highway.”
“You have the directions?” Dmytro asked.
Bartosz rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry.”
Dmytro glanced at Ajax. Bundled up like he was, he barely looked older than six-year-old Sasha. About as defenseless too. In Bartosz’s native Russian, he asked, “What do you suppose makes someone want attention so badly they’ll do any repulsive thing to get it?”
Bartholomew shrugged. “He’s a good-looking boy. I could find a use for him.”
Dmytro groaned. “Don’t be that guy.”
“I’m teasing.”
Dmytro hoped so. Bartosz was a professional, after all.
Ajax hissed, “Speak English. You’re being so rude.”
“I told him I’d like a corn dog.” Bartosz smirked at the rearview mirror. “Do you still want a drink?”
Ajax’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, please.”
“I’ll get you a corn dog.” Dmytro cuffed Bartosz for that.
“And Jalapeño cheese peppers and a strawberry lemonade slush,” Bartosz added.
“Fine.”
“That’spoppers,” Ajax corrected.
“What is?” asked Bartosz.
“Jalapeño poppers,” he continued in a didactic tone, “are jalapeños stuffed with either cream cheese or cheddar, dipped in batter, and fried. They’re calledpoppers.”
“Thank you for educating us.” Dmytro was never that arrogant. At twenty-two, he’d been a homeless thug with two lucky gifts: a mild form of genius with foreign languages and the ability to read very fast. By chance, he’d connected with a crime boss who needed a translator with muscle. The man had introduced him to classic literature, a love of which they’d shared until Dmytro tried to walk away. That went poorly, to say the least. One didn’t walk away from the Russian mob.
Dmytro met Bartosz’s amused glance before retrieving his phone from his pocket.
D: Good news, the client is probably not stupid. He’s just a mudak.
An asshole.
Liv would understand.
CHAPTER TWO
Ajax
Ajax Freedom.The bringer of death comes with torrents of blood and fire. Prepare yourself for the end of times. Prepare yourself to meet God’s judgment.
Dmytro readthe latest threat out loud. Did they think Ajax couldn’t hear or that he wasn’t paying attention? Ajax studied his new bodyguard with a practiced eye, assessing him as possibly useful anddefinitelyeasy on the eyes. Maybe a little bit dangerous.
