Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal #2)(32)

Letting his head drop, Vito whispered, “Yes.”

“Good man.” Patting the man on the stomach, he took a step back. “I have a gift for you, Vito. Kolya is going to release you and let you go.”

Even though he had yet to be asked, Kolya grabbed the remote, turning a dial that brought the machine to life and eased Vito to the floor.

Grabbing his own cigarette from a pack, Kaz put it between his lips and flicked the lighter, watching the flame dance. As he took in a lungful, the nicotine burned straight through his lungs. “You make it through those doors, and no one will stop you.”

Vito could barely stand as Kolya cut him free, but his eyes were wild and aware, focused on them so intently that he had yet to see which exit Kaz meant. But he wasted no time moving toward one, though he never turned his back, afraid of what might be done if he did.

But very soon, self-preservation kicked in, and Vito was stumbling over himself to get away. He only got so far before Kaz took one last drag from his cigarette and dropped it on the ground …

Mere feet before Kaz reached for the gun at his waist, raising it until he could see Vito at the end of it, and fired, watching the man’s leg give out as the bullet shredded the muscle of his thigh.

“Don’t stop now,” Kaz said as he started across the floor, his eyes set on the man holding his bleeding wound. “Just a few feet, suka.”

With a cry of pain, Vito used his other arm, trying his damnedest to drag himself across the concrete floor while leaving a streak of blood in his wake.

Kaz wasn’t cruel. He allowed the man another few inches before he aimed and fired again, this time in his other leg.

“This can’t be any worse than what was done to Gavrill, no?” Kaz asked over the man’s shouts, unmoved by his tears. “And see, what you don’t know is that my brother was the one to find the body—a child.”

Kaz only remembered pieces, just brief flashes of days and times, but this one … this one stuck with him over the years, branding itself on Kaz’s conscience. He could still remember the way Rus had stopped speaking for forty-eight hours after he found him after coming out of the ice-cream shop he had gone in with his aunt.

Kaz still wasn’t sure what all Rus had seen that fateful day when he had gone off to their uncle’s, only to return with his hands stained red, his eyes wide with horror, even as Vasily stood at his back with his hands on his shoulders.

The only reason Kaz even had an idea of how bad it had been was because he had gone to his father with questions years later—Ruslan still, to this day, refused to speak of it.

Vito raised bloody hands. “Mercy.”

Shaking his head, Kaz used his foot to roll the man over onto his back. “Ask whoever you see on the other side—I have none.”

His head hit the ground hard as the round plugged into his forehead, his body gone limp.

“Looks like I’ll be going home a little early,” Kaz said as he faced the brothers. “It’s only a matter of time before word gets back to Vasily that this first batch didn’t make it home.”

And when he did, Kaz didn’t doubt that Vasily would know exactly what Kaz’s next move would be.





Violet could smell the coffee from the top of the stairs, and it smelled like heaven brewing. She didn’t think it odd that Kaz was brewing a pot of coffee instead of just making the instant blend as he usually did because she was just happy he was making her coffee.

She skidded to a stop in the kitchen entryway at the sight of the man sitting at the island, a newspaper in one hand, an unlit cigarette twirling between the fingers of his other, and two cups of coffee waiting in front of him.

Konstantin.

Of the two Boykov brothers, Violet liked Konstantin better. If only because the man seemed more approachable, although he was a little strange sometimes. She also hadn’t seen Konstantin around nearly as much as Kolya was, but she blamed that on Maya coming over to the townhouse. Her husband usually just followed, scowl always in place.

Konstantin, however, was almost a stranger to Violet.

Yet she did like him a little bit more than she did his brother.

“You make a habit of this, I see,” Konstantin said, never taking his eyes off whatever he was reading in the newspaper.

Violet didn’t have the first clue what he was talking about. “Pardon?”

He waved a hand, gesturing at her. “I’m going to assume you sleep with nothing on when you come down in the mornings wearing … that.”

She glanced down at the white T-shirt she had on, realizing what he meant. Embarrassment heated her cheeks as she said, “Don’t start, Konstantin.”

The man was already grinning. “Coffee will still be hot. I’m doing the right thing by reading and not looking at you. Get dressed.”

Violet cursed her way back upstairs and found something more suitable to wear. She didn’t have a great selection, though, as she hadn’t been given much time to go out and shop for clothes. She only had what she’d brought with her.

And so what if she liked Kaz’s clothes?

Once Violet was back down in the kitchen, she silently glared at Konstantin as he slid her coffee across the island toward her.

“Is this a thing?” she asked.

Konstantin raised a single brow high. “A thing?”

“A Russian thing or something.” Violet almost smiled at the look of confusion passing over Konstantin’s features. “It seems like none of you ever knock. You all just come right in and make yourself at home. And where is Kaz?”