Page 26 of Scarred (Russian Sinners 2)

This time I grinned. “That’s my girl.”

I might need all the ammunition I could get when it came to Olivia. Maybe a few pointers from a six-year-old would nudge her my way, I thought smugly. She hugged me tightly goodbye.

“Love you, Uncle,” she pecked me on my good cheek, as always. She admitted to me when I first took her to live with me, she was scared of my scarred cheek. I didn’t blame her; it wasn’t the prettiest of sights. Olivia was the first one to think it wasn’t that bad. “And don’t worry,” my little niece continued, “I know Olivia loves you already too. She doesn’t mind your scar, and keeps eyeing you when you are not looking.”

I ruffled her hair. The kid was too observant. “Be good,” I warned softly.

As I drove off, I regretted not seeing Olivia one more time. But no matter, I would be back very soon. This time apart would be good for her. She needed time to come to terms with all these sudden changes in her life. She needed her space now and I’d give her all the space and time she needed. I could be a very patient man; I’d wait years if need be.

I dialed up Dimitry.

“Nikolai,” he answered the phone on the second ring.

“How is it going, brother?”

“Very good,” his reply surprised. I could detect a smile in his voice. Dimitry very rarely smiled and I immediately attributed it to Anastasia.

“How is Anastasia treating you?” I mused teasingly.

“Did you call to ask about Anastasia?” he groaned but there was lightness to his tone.

“Maybe,” I snickered smugly. “I am glad you listened for once, brother. What are you up to?”

“I’m waiting for Anastasia to get ready for Misha’s wedding,” he didn’t sound too happy. “Anastasia really wanted to go and accepted to be his bride’s svideteli.”

“You don’t sound too happy about it.”

“I’m worried about her safety. Otherwise, I’d be fine with it.” His deep exhale filled the line. “She calls it our first date.”

“And you object?” I teased. Dimitry was completely enamored with Anastasia.

“Fuck, no,” he muttered. “She is… fuck, not even sure what to say. She is everything.”

I could understand that sentiment. Olivia’s image filled my mind. I had an inkling Olivia could be everything to me; if she’d open up. Would she let me? I thought so; the question was how long it would take her. I wanted to be the one to chase away all her fears and replace them with strength, desire and fire that lingered under the surface. I had no doubt that deep down this woman buried her defiance and strength, in order to appease her parents or that bastard of her ex-fiancé. I would bring it all out and let her thrive in it.

“I’m happy for you.” I meant it; it was about time Dimitry found his own happiness. Anastasia would make him happy, there was no doubt in my mind. “Now, tell me. Any updates on Boris?”

“As a matter of fact, I just got off the phone with Anastasia’s father,” he started summarizing the events. “Boris was spotted in Russia. Other than that, they don’t have much information.”

“We’ll get him, Dimitry,” I assured him.

“I put out a monetary award on the black market for concrete information on him. So far nothing. I want him gone,” he gritted agitated.

“You know he has never been a patient man.” It was true, Boris was never strategic in his actions. He ruled with emotions that were usually all over the map. “He is bound to make a mistake.”

“I should have killed him when he gave you that scar,” he spat out.

I would never forget the rage of Dimitry when it happened. I fought Boris and his men, unwilling to let them hurt an innocent man. So instead, I earned the punishment meant for him. In my condition, and my sight impacted by the cut, I knew I couldn’t beat them. Besides there were too many of them. Dimitry returned from an assignment and lost his cool when he saw what happened. He very rarely lost his cool and went into a raging attack. He killed two of Boris’ men that held me when Boris slashed my face. He was out for blood and would have gotten himself killed if not for Sergei and I holding him back. We had to retreat or risk losing one of us. That was the only thing that held Dimitry back from going down fighting all of Boris’ men. He was unwilling to sacrifice us. He’d sacrifice himself but never me and Sergei.

There was a reason we were called the Russian Sinners. We ended up killing every single man that stood in that room while Boris slashed my face. And we did it one by one, so they could quiver and sweat knowing their time was coming. The agony of waiting for their death made them sloppy. Boris was the only one left living but we had a special surprise for him when we turned all evidence against him to the feds.

“That is in the past now,” I retorted, a bitter reminder of who we were forced to be to survive.

“How is Anastasia’s friend?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Olivia is situated and safe back at my place,” I told him. “Malcome and her father did a number on her but she’s strong. I’m on my way back to the States. Her brother is helping. He has connections in the military so he’ll be useful. As soon as I’m back, I’ll give him a rundown of our suspicions.”

Dimitry, Sergei, and I had a theory. And it was truly a theory right now since we had nothing to go off on except a hunch. Malcome Schmidt was selling unsecured satellite connections to U.S. military intelligence and staging them as secured transmission networks although they were not.

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