Page 68 of Savage Beauty

“He hit me because I spat in his eye,” I reply. I rest my cheek against his chest, feeling the deep rumble of his laughter.

“That’s my girl.” Sasha cradles my head. “I’m sorry. Don’t think I’m not raging; I am. But I’ve also learned that my impulsivity comes at a steep price. I can’t react right now, but believe me when I say Igorwilldie.”

Something is different. I sense a glimmer of hope in him, a pinprick of light in the darkness. I look at him, searching his eyes.

“What’s happened?” I ask. “You thought of a way out of this, didn’t you?”

Sasha glances in Igor’s direction, but the old man is facing away from us, deep in conversation with a politician. “Yes,” he murmurs. “I had a conference with my good friend Freddy De Silva earlier today. Remember him?”

“The guy you almost turned into a kabob? Of course, I remember him.”

Sasha smiles and kisses my forehead. “He was the middle man between Tosca and the police commissioner I killed, Lawrence Webster. It turns out Igor and Webster were old adversaries, so Igor wanted the man dead, but of course, that wasn’t the main motivation. Tosca exaggerated his acquaintance with Webster, saying he could arrange for the guy to be at a specific place so I could carry out the hit.”

“So Tosca lied and needed someone to help him.”

“Correct.” Sasha spins me, and we waltz out of Igor’s eye-line around the tree. “That’s where Freddy came in. Tosca and Freddie were good buddies and trusted one another. Tosca offered Freddy a cut of the spoils if he agreed to coax Webster to the hotel and reveal the location to me. The only stipulation was that Igor couldn’t know about Freddy’s involvement, as he’d be pissed at Tosca for involving a third party in their treachery.”

It all falls into place in my mind. “Freddy is a witness to all this, but Igor doesn’t know.”

“You got it,moya zhena. Freddy was dumb enough to think he could blackmail me until I reminded him that his position was far more precarious than mine. Igor had no problem murdering Tosca in cold blood to keep this plot under wraps—if he finds out about Freddy’s part in this, he’ll kill him too, without hesitation.” He grins. “So obviously, I threatened to enlighten Igor unless Freddy came through forme. He’ll be well paid if he plays his part, and his dear sister and niece won’t be trafficked.”

“Sasha!” I gasp. “You said that?”

“Yeah. I know that’s pretty low, but it’s only a threat. I needed Freddy on the ropes. The little bastard almost pissed himself with terror.”

“So what’s next?”

Sasha doesn’t get a chance to reply. Igor is behind him, a few of his cronies in tow.

“Hello, my boy!” Igor places a hand on Sasha’s shoulder, forcing us to break our embrace. “I was just saying, sad business with your brother. Unfortunate business indeed.”

Oleg is behind him, and he speaks. “Sasha. You told Igor your brother left without explanation, leaving you in charge. Why?”

“I’m not sure,” Sasha replies, “but it was strange. He took the family with him, saying he didn’t want to be involved anymore.”

“I think it was cowardice.” Anotherkomissiyamember is weighing in, shaking his head. “Sal Tosca dead, and Commissioner Webster too? I’m not saying there’s a connection, but it’s a coincidence that Vladimir Kislev abdicated his leadership without explanation just hours after the killings. Perhaps he knew the truth would come out, and he’d be in the shit.”

Sasha clenches his fist. It’s hard for him to listen to this, but he has to keep his cool. Igor will allow the bratva gossip mill to churn, selling the narrative that Vlad had something to do with the deaths, and Sasha will have no choice but to nod and smile.

If we get through this alive, all these people are gonna see what my husband’s wrath really looks like.

“So, tonight’s your night.” Igor claps Sasha on the back, and he stifles the desire to punch him. “I’ll be swearing you in as pakhan of your bratva at midnight, just like your Papa before you. I remember it well. Bet you wish he was here to see your big moment!”

If looks could kill, Igor would be cold on the ground, but Sasha’s voice is level when he speaks. “Let’s not dwell on that.” He lowers his brow almost imperceptibly, but I notice. “Remember—we all answer to our maker when our turn comes around.”

Before the atmosphere can get frosty, a gaggle of bratva wives descends on thekomissiyamen, giggling and demanding dances. They pair off dutifully, laughing as they go, leaving Igor behind.

“You two had better be well-behaved tonight,” he says, drawing closer. He points at me but addresses Sasha. “Shealready knows what she’ll get if you don’t keep yourself in check.”

Sasha says nothing, but his eyes are glacial. I shudder, and he wraps a protective arm around me as Igor gives us his back.

My husband is not a noble, selfless hero. He’s a villain to the core, and his enemies will soon discover that you can’t keep a bad guy down for long.

My stomach rolls, and I belch. Whether it’s the tension or the baby, I don’t know, but I feel like hell. “Stay here a minute,” I say. “I gotta use the restroom.”

* * *

The restroom is mercifully empty. My stomach cramps painfully, and I lean over a basin, closing my eyes as I try to steady my breathing. The door opens, and I’m aware of someone behind me, but I don’t want to move.

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