Chimera (The Korsak Brothers #1)(86)
He had done what was necessary to maintain loyalty—his loyalty to himself. I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care in the slightest. And if I repeated that to myself often enough, it would be true. Prodding his back with the gun, I said coldly, “Great. I couldn’t be prouder. Now give me the goddamn money.” Jerking my head at the ornate desk in the center of the room, I told Michael to find some manila envelopes to put the cash in.
At the touch of metal against his spine Lev had given an almost imperceptible twitch as he remembered what he’d said only minutes ago. I wasn’t so soft after all. Now as he pulled stacks of bills from one of the drawers, his air of placid composure began to fade. “I’m still the same man who took you to see Santa, krestnik. I’m still the one who held your hand at your mother’s funeral. That hasn’t changed.” His eyes were wise, wistful, and full of lies. “I did all I could for you; you must know that. But in the end, there is only so much that can be done. Even for an uncle who loves his godson.”
“Yeah, I’m a lucky guy,” I commented with empty detachment. “I’d count my blessings, but then I’d be here all day.” I took the envelopes from Michael with my free hand and shoved them into the soft mound of Lev’s stomach. “Fill them up fast enough and maybe I’ll leave you with some blessings of your own to count.” My lips peeled from my teeth in a parody of a grin as I added flatly, “Maybe.”
He filled the envelopes quickly and silently after that. When he was done, I handed them to Michael before directing him to the door. “Wait in the hall, Misha. I’ll be right out.”
I expected him to hesitate at the tone in my voice. I barely recognized the sound of it myself, abraded hoarseness aside. He didn’t, though. Flashing me a look of confidence, he faced Lev and said with excruciating politeness, “Good-bye, Uncle Lev. I’d say it was nice to meet you, but then I’d be a liar.” He hefted the load in his arms and finished with unusually savage bite, “Just like you.”
Once Michael was out of sight, I stared at the man who had done more to shape my childhood than my own father. He had taken me to see Santa when I was six, as he’d said. And like Saint Nick, Uncle Lev had been nothing but a myth. All this time, he had been just a story I’d been stupid enough to fall for . . . even though I was a man who should’ve known better. “Have a seat, Uncle.”
Obeying at a snail’s pace, he settled himself slowly on a couch of buttery leather and eyed me with false sympathy. There was some genuine concern there as well, but it was reserved for him. “What, Stefan? What do you do now? Shoot me? You know better, and so do I.”
He was a liar, a killer, and maybe as much of a monster as Jericho. He was also a seventy-year-old man who had acted as family toward me my whole life. It hadn’t meant anything to him, but it had to me. As much as I would’ve liked to deny it, it had meant a helluva lot to me. After what he had done, hating him should’ve been child’s play. A nice black hatred sizzling with acid and bile would’ve made things so much easier. And I wanted easy now. I was tired of hard, and I was tired of family that disappeared . . . one way or the other.
“Shoot you?” I walked to the desk, picked up the phone and base, and tossed it into the hall. “Why would I want to shoot a toothless old wolf like you, Uncle?” I asked grimly. “Your day has been over for a while. All you’re good for is carrying tales to men more powerful than you.” It was true. He was a fat spider; poisonous, but if I avoided his web, I’d be safe enough.
Ripping one of the curtains free, I tore it into pieces and tied both of his thick wrists tightly. He hissed disapprovingly as I squatted and used the remaining material to do the same to his ankles. “Those are silk, Stefan. That’s no way to treat a beautiful thing.”
“Criminal of me, I know. How will I ever live with myself?” The house was old, a historical masterpiece, and the doors all had the large keyholes equipped with baroque keys. I would lock Lev in the study and Michael and I would be long gone before he was found. He’d done us the favor of sending his help home; the house was empty except for him and the unconscious and dying hit men.
“I think you’ll do just fine, krestnik.” Resigned to the situation, he leaned back and let his eyes fall to half mast. “You’ve more yaitsa than I gave you credit for. Anatoly will be proud. That is, he will be if he’s alive and you yourself live to see him again.”
“If I do, I’ll be sure to pass on your regards.” I tied the final knot.
Under a naturally ruddy complexion intensified by a high-fat diet and an enlarged heart, he paled slightly. I might have balls of steel, but my father’s were titanium. While I wouldn’t kill an old man, Anatoly would stop and make a point of it.
“Enjoy that wave-free retirement, Lev.” I picked up the Steyr from the floor and tapped the muzzle on his knee. “However long it lasts.”
Rising, I moved toward the door. Behind me the couch creaked alarmingly as Lev shifted. “Stefan,” he called urgently.
I kept going.
“Stefan, my heart medicine.” He was referring to the nitro pills he had been taking for nearly a decade now. Too many bleenies and too much vodka had finally caught up with him over the years. “I might need it. It’s in the master bedroom.”
“Is it?” I paused in the doorway to look back at him. “That’s too bad, Uncle Lev. It really is.” Quietly pulling the door shut, I locked it.