Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal #2)(24)

“A bit rude, gentlemen,” Konstantin called out, dropping his paper on the table, “to show up where you’re not invited.”

One man stood just a bit farther in front of the others, the one with the gold chain. He barely offered a sneer in Konstantin’s direction before his sole attention was on Kaz. “Your time is up.”

Kaz had known, though he hadn’t wanted to consider the possibility, that his father would reach out to Alberto Gallucci—he had once, a long time ago. The Italians couldn’t have found them otherwise.

But hadn’t he planned it that way?

He knew his father wouldn’t make a move himself—it would have been suicide—but this … this, he hadn’t expected.

But it was just what he needed.

“As fun as this would be,” Kaz said as he got to his feet, “I don’t have the time.”

“What the boss wants, the boss gets,” he returned. “And right now, that’s your head on a plate and his daughter back home—whatever it takes.”

“I hate to state the obvious, but that’s not going to happen. Now, I’ll do you a favor,” Kaz said meeting the man’s eyes, wanting to make sure he heard his next words. “You turn back around, walk back to whatever shithole you crawled out of, and I won’t break your f*cking knees. Stay there and you’ll see just how creative I can get when I’m f*cking pissed.”

The man smirked, looking far too amused for Kaz’s liking. “Look how easy it was for us to find you. You think we can’t find the boss’ daughter? We have orders, you see. And unlike you, we do what we’re told. So when the boss says to ‘find them and kill anyone with them,’ that’s what we do.”

“Sorry?”

Kolya’s voice cut through the air, bringing everyone’s attention to him. Up until that moment, he had continued eating, a napkin tucked into the collar of his shirt like nothing was out of the ordinary, but when the Italian finished speaking, he had stopped, a fork in one hand, a knife in the other.

He looked almost confused, as though the man’s words hadn’t made sense. “Tell me again what you said.”

“On your right, Kaz,” Konstantin said casually, out of the blue.

It took a moment for the Italian to focus his attention on Kolya, but when he did—and probably sized him up for the first time—he lost that playful edge to his words, as though he needed to make sure Kolya understood he wasn’t to be f*cked with.

“Who the f*ck are you?”

Setting down his fork and knife, Kolya picked up his beer bottle, one that had been left untouched since the moment it was set down in front of him. He seemed to be studying the label for a moment before wrapping his fingers around the neck of it as he pointed at himself. “Me? Fuck me, I’m not important. Repeat what you said—your orders.”

“Find them,” the Italian said, not realizing the danger he was in. “And kill anyone with—”

He didn’t get to finish the statement before Kolya was lunging across the table, shattering the bottle on top of the man’s head, and then dragged him back by the collar to slam his face into the table.

Kaz had quickly understood what Konstantin meant as he swung on the man to the right, even as the man tried to draw the weapon at his waist.

Minutes at most passed before each of the Italians was on the ground, all except for the one Kolya still had a hold of.

“There are lessons to be learned here,” Konstantin said to the man who was bleeding profusely from both his nose and mouth. “Never threaten a man’s wife.”

Kolya slammed his head once more before letting the man drop to the floor in a lump. Kaz wasn’t even sure the man was still breathing.

“These Italians,” Kolya tsked as he fished money out of his wallet, sighing as he pulled out more than a few hundred-dollar bills. “I thought there was respect for one’s wife. Animals, the lot of them.”

There was no way the Italian who’d done all the talking could have known that it was Maya with Violet and not just one of Kaz’s people, but in Kolya’s head, that hadn’t mattered.

Fucking crazy.

“It seems you have visitors,” Konstantin said as he pulled out his phone and called a number, asking for a sweeper—whatever that was—before hanging up once more. “Your timetable has to move up. When do you want us to make the move?”

“Tonight.”

But before he did, he had to check on Violet.

He didn’t have a missed call from her, but he knew, just as the Italian had said, that it was only a matter of time before they found her too.

He just hoped he found her first.





A faint whisper of relief washed through Violet when a familiar contact lit up her phone. Almost at the exact same time as she answered her call from Kaz, Maya’s phone began ringing in the middle console.

Violet tried to focus on her own call and not Maya’s when she connected it to the Bluetooth, and Kolya’s dark voice echoed through the car’s speakers.

“Where are you?”

Violet blinked.

The question had come from both calls.

Violet answered Kaz one way; Maya answered Kolya with an actual place.

“With Maya,” Violet said.

“Coming out from the Heights, Kolya.”