Page 79 of Bad Medicine
It was strange to me, the fact that this man seemed to be accepting his fate so easily; it was completely out of character, and for some reason, I wanted to understand.
“Why did you do it?” I asked plainly, taking a seat at the table across from him, doing my best to keep my eyes on the room. “Things were good, Anton. We all had money pouring in like someone had turned on a hose.” Rapping my knuckles on the table between us, I shook my head. “Why fuck it all up with a lie?”
Anton stared into the glass, watching the liquid swirl as he rolled it from side to side, and for a second, I didn’t think he’d answer.
I wasn’t even sure he’d heard me, so lost in his melancholy thoughts he seemed to be somewhere else entirely.
But then he sighed, raising his bloodshot eyes to mine.
“Because family is supposed to mean something.” When I didn’t comment, he continued. “They say blood is thicker than water, but they forget that money is what flows through some men’s veins. When a man sells out his family, his own flesh and blood, for a few dollars?” Shaking his head, Anton let out a defeated sigh. “What hope does aPakhanhave of keeping men by his side when they’ll jump ship as soon as the price is right?”
I couldn’t imagine it, betraying Enzo for a few extra bucks. The thought alone turned my stomach, so I shoved it away with a violence I usually reserved for the assholes who didn’t pay back their loans.
“Is it over, then?” I asked, realizing that the empty strip club was no accident; even his regular customers had abandoned him, leaving behind a room that held nothing but hopelessness and booze. “You’re just going to give up and hand that shit-stain the reins of the empire you built?”
“It’s not giving up if it was stolen from you,” he snarled, and I could see the anger building in his eyes. I was honestly glad; no one should ever just roll over like a dog and take defeat. I may have been here to exact revenge on Anton for his crimes against us, but I wasn’t about to hurt a tired old man drowning his sorrows in room temperature vodka.
Because that’s who was sitting before me now. Not thePakhanI knew, the man who would come toWrathfull of witty banter and sharp comebacks, but a man who was realizing his whole life’s work had been for nothing.
“I took that boy into my home,” he spat, and I watched as he filled his glass again. “Took him from the life his whore of a mother condemned him to, and how does he repay me? By taking the very empire I would have gladly gifted to him had he only been content to wait.” Downing the drink, Anton wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing hard now that my questions had riled him. “My sister threw her life away, fucking that Serbian dog, but where our father would have drowned the boy at birth, I took him. I raised him. I loved him like only a father can love a son.”
Jesus, that was a fuckload ofJerry Springerbullshit to unpack, but Anton was on a roll, and I didn’t think he’d even hear me if I spoke.
“And that son of a bitch betrays me?” Standing, Anton marched from the booth, heading for the front door of the club, and I followed him warily, my hand on my gun as I approached.
“Anton,” I called, and he spun, staring at me like he’d forgotten I was even in the building. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
Anton laughed, a manic, deranged sound that grated in my ears like nails on a chalkboard. Pushing through the doors, Anton strode into the last of the evening light, heading for the silver Rolls that sat at the far end of the lot. Muttering a curse under my breath, I tucked my gun away safely and followed after him.
“I am going to track down that stupid fuck I call a nephew and show him that he has a long way to go if he thinks he’s going to take what I built without a fight.” Fumbling with the keys, Anton attempted to open the door, failing twice before he was finally successful.
Turning to face me, Anton stood up straight, squaring his shoulders and holding his head up high.
“There is a lot more fight left in Anton Belikov.”
I could hear the car approaching, tires slowly grinding against the baked pavement of the parking lot, but I was too focused on the man before me, so I didn’t look.
I should have.
I was so mesmerized by the ruined king in front of me that I failed to notice the grasping peasant who was reaching for his crown.
If I had, I wouldn’t have been so surprised when the gun fired, one shot sliding directly into Anton’s chest. No screams rang out, the people in this shady neighborhood so used to violence that they simply went about their day, with not a single care for the old man now slouched against his own car.
Heading toward him, I only made it three steps before a second shot came, this time into Anton’s gut, and I knew there would be no saving him now. Instead, I watched as Ivan, the man from the photo—the man who Anton himself had sworn he’d already killed—walked calmly across the asphalt, raised his gun a third time and said, “Do svidaniya, Anton. No one fucks with The Chemist.”
Ivan fired one last shot, right between Anton’s surprised eyes, and then he turned the gun on me.
Chapter thirty-six
Mia
Myfeethadalmostcarried me all the way to the bus stop before I remembered I didn’t need to go there anymore.
No, now I could turn the other way when I exited the building, heading to the staff parking lot where my brand-new minivan was parked, glowing softly under the desert moonlight.
I still couldn’t believe it; he’d bought me a vehicle.
Smiling to myself, I pressed the button, loving the little sound the doors made when they unlocked and feeling almost giddy as I climbed behind the wheel.
