Page 72 of Savage Beauty

“That felt good,” Sasha says, flexing his knuckles. “It’s a good question, though. What will happen to Tosca’s interests?”

“We’ll turn them over to you by way of apology,” Oleg says. “Claudia, you’ll be compensated too and remain under thekomissiya’sprotection. You can decide what you want to do with your life. But get clean first, okay?”

“Okay.” Claudia looks relieved. “Thank you, Oleg.”

“As foryou,” Oleg points at the mumbling, bleeding Igor, “you are nokomissiyaleader nor a friend to the mafia or the bratva. Not a respected associate, an honored soldier, or a great man.” He spits his final dismissal. “You’re no one. Sasha?”

My husband looks at me, his eyes soft. He scans the room, taking in his brother, dear friend, and many allies and rivals.

“I could make a real thing of this,” he says, “but I’m not wasting another minute on this asshole. Vlad, hand me your pistol.”

Vlad obliges, and Sasha places the gun barrel between Igor’s eyes. He’s too beaten down to react.

“Moya zhena, you get the last word.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “If you want this man to die here and now, all you have to do is say yes.”

I cross my arms. “How aboutfuckyes?”

“That’s my girl.”

Sasha fixes his eyes on Igor. “You won’t see Rocco where you’re going,” he says. “But if you run into my father, tell him from me to go fuck himself.”

The gunshot sets the chandelier rattling, and Igor crashes backward to the ground, taking the chair with him.

* * *

The nonchalance of these guys never fails to amaze me. I don’t know who made the call, but within minutes, four men in black overalls arrive and set about cleaning the murder scene. They roll Igor’s body in saran wrap, mop up the blood and gunk, and they’re gone like nothing ever happened.

Freddy has been dismissed with the standard shut-up-or-die bratva threats and a wad of cash. Vlad is a big believer in the carrot-and-stick theory and prefers to use both. Judging by the speed at which Freddy scuttled away, the strategy is sound.

Oleg decided to break up the party, saying we’d reconvene when the future of thekomissiyahad been agreed. A power vacuum is dangerous, and too many in the bratva would want to weigh in on the decision if they were allowed to stay.

We sit at the bar, with Arman serving as bartender. It seems everyone is in sore need of vodka, and it’s going down quickly, but I stick to seltzer.

“Vlad, how did you know what was going on?” Sasha asks.

Vlad nods at Arman. “This man is a fucking legend. After he got the info about the connection between Freddy and Tosca, he called me and said he suspected you were caught up in something. I asked him to keep tabs on you, but he did better than that—he got hold of the cunt who abducted Josie. Igor wasn’t careful about who he hired, probably because he planned to kill him afterward anyway, but Arman got to him first.”

“And I’ll bet he’s just fine, right?” Sasha grins at Arman. “Just told you what you needed to know without giving you trouble?”

Arman leans against the back of the bar and shrugs. “He didn’t know much. But I murdered him anyway.”

“Jesus!” Vlad says. “That’s not like you,tovarishch. What gives?”

Arman frowns. “I don’t like seeing women hurt. It’s beyond the fucking pale.”

I’m sure there’s one woman in particular whose absence is killing him, but I wouldn’t dream of outing him for it. I decide to do him a solid and move the conversation along.

“Leave it, Vlad. Arman told you the bits and pieces he knew. What didyoudo?”

“I safely left Morgana, Lili, Avel, and Dulcie in Tuscany and flew straight home. I met Arman, and we went to shake down Freddy, only to find him with his bags packed, evidence file included.” Vlad sips his drink. “So I gave him a couple of taps, and that’s all it took. The stupid asshole tried to get away with just handing over the file, but I thought you’d wanna see him, given what he’d tried to pull.”

Sasha slaps his hand on the bar. “Fuck, that was a lucky catch.”

“Nothing changes,bratan,” Vlad says with a grin. “I got your back. I knew it didn’t add up. And you’d have made a shit-awful pakhan anyway.”

“Agreed. So, before we get to that—Oleg. Anything to say to my wife?”

Oleg sighs. “I apologize. I was needlessly rude when we met. All this bullshit has taught me that a person’s background doesn’t account for anything when it comes to their integrity.” He holds up his hands. “Truce, Josephine Kisleva. Let’s begin again.”

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