Page 66 of Savage Beauty

Igor would never believe me, but if he’d only let Josie go, I’d play along like an obedient puppet. Put oceans between her and this sordid world of ours, and I’d let him do what he wanted, forever. But he’s placed her at the heart of his sick vendetta, and that I cannot abide. It was already personal for Igor, but now it’s personal for me, too. He’s taken everything.

If Igor was a seasoned bratva man and not a lawyer, he’d know that a guy with nothing to lose is a severe liability. And that guy is me. All I need to do is think of something because once I have a shot to take, I’m fucking taking it.

* * *

The coffee machine seems so loud because the house is quiet. This kitchen is usually a hive of activity during the morning, but with the family gone, it feels like a tomb.

They’ll have arrived at the villa by now, unaware of what’s happening at home. I can’t even try to call Vlad again; my phone is broken. I’ll get a new one as soon as possible, but I need caffeine and a clear head, not to mention a clean shirt.

Igor told me to deal with business. The stupid fuck doesn’t understand that most things run themselves on a day-to-day basis because we have people who oversee our operations. Does he think a pakhan needs to micro-manage?

I take the coffee to Vlad’s study and sit behind the desk. I guess it’smystudy now, but it feels like a crime scene.

It’s the only room in the house with a landline telephone, and I make a few calls just to check that things are as they should be. No one asks why it’s me and not Vlad calling, but that’s hardly surprising—I often deal with our people. When it comes to human resources, I’m no Arman, but—

Holy shit.Arman. He wasn’t at the house last night, and Igor never mentioned him.

I flip the pages of Vlad’s address book and dial Arman’s cell. He answers on the third ring.

“Sasha?”

“Yeah. Wait, how’d you know it was me and not Vlad? I’m calling from the office phone.”

“I know what happened last night,” he replies. “Vlad called me and said you’d sold us out to go in with Igor. I said it had to be a scam, and Vlad lost his shit with me, so I spent the night elsewhere, trying to work out what the fuck to do.”

Arman deliberately doesn’t tell me where he is. He’s intelligent; if I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t say, either. “It’s bullshit. I’m in big fucking trouble here, but I can’t drag you into it by explaining. Igor has forgotten all about you, and it’ll do no good if he remembers you exist. But can you do one thing for me?”

“Sure,” he replies. “I’m in no position to argue anyway. What do you need?”

I have a thought that won’t quit. A name. A person who hates me and, very recently, made what I took to be idle threats. I’d like to talk a little more about his associations.

“Look into Freddy DeSilva for me. You know, our pet police captain? I need to know who else he likes to play with. He may be able to unfuck all this, but I’ll have to threaten him pretty badly to make it happen.”

Arman’s tone is cool. “Whatever you say, pakhan. I don’t believe this situation is what it seems, so I’ll help you, but if I find out you’re using me, I’ll fucking kill you. I just want the family back home.”

“Me too,” I say. “Just stay the course,tovarishch. I would advise approaching Igor and offering to work for him, saying you’re done with us. If he asks me, I’ll corroborate it. Better than him finding you and having you killed.”

“I’ll consider it. Stand by, and I’ll call you back in an hour.”

* * *

After a quick call and an urgent courier service, I have a new cell phone. It’s synced and ready to go, with all my contacts at my fingertips again. Against my better judgment, I try Josie’s number.

Hi,her voicemail trills.It’s Josie Kisleva. Here’s the tone: you know what to do!

I don’t. I have no idea what to do. All I have is the vaguest of leads, no more than an inkling. But my thoughts keep returning to what Freddy said.

You have no fucking idea what’s coming to you, Sasha. You’ve made some important enemies.Either the man was freakishly prophetic, or he knew something I didn’t.

I hear Josie’s voicemail beep, and impulsively, I say, “I love you.” Whether she’ll ever hear that message, I don’t know, but those three words encompass a thousand others.

I’m sorry. I adore you. I never meant to hurt you. You’re my world, my downfall, the love of my life. My soul is in torment, knowing you’re frightened and alone. I will never forgive myself if—

The phone rings in my hand, startling me. For a moment, my heart leaps, thinking it’s Josie, but I can see it’s Arman.

“Tell me what you know.”

“Freddy De Silva doesn’t pass on enough of his dirty money to his precinct buddies,” Arman says. “A junior detective spilled easily enough. Freddy ran a few errands for Sal Tosca. Apparently, they know each other from way back. Tosca was godfather to Freddy’s niece.”

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