Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal #2)(38)

“You could have said you were playing the babysitter today,” Viktoria said.

“It was a last minute thing, sestra.”

Then just as quickly as the conversation had begun in English, the two siblings switched to Russian, effectively leaving Violet confused and out of the loop.

It wasn’t the first time it had happened since she arrived in Chicago.

Somehow, she doubted it would be the last time.

However, it didn't irritate her any less.

Finally, seemingly satisfied with whatever he’d said to his sister, Konstantin returned to English, directing his next sentence to Violet. “You want a snack or something before we go?”

“What kind of snack?”

He pointed at the jar, saying, “Pickles are good.”

What?

Violet blinked. “Pickles?”

Serious as ever, Konstantin didn’t seem bothered by Violet’s confusion. “Pickles are a staple—a must. You want one or not?”

“I’m good,” she settled on saying.

Viktoria shook her head as she took a pickle her brother offered. “You can’t even dress her up as a Russian.”

What?





“You need to come out,” Kolya was saying to Rus as he tugged on a pair of leather gloves. “Maya would love to have you.”

Parked down the block from 416 Meadow Lane, Kaz weighed the odds as he strapped on the bulletproof vest Rus had handed to him moments before. While Christian Carracci’s odds weren’t great against the three of them, Kaz still didn’t expect the man to go without a fight.

In the life they led, any man who reacted too slowly wouldn’t survive.

“We can do this one of two ways,” Kaz said, his eyes still on the house. “I can knock—”

“It’s four in the f*cking morning,” Kolya interjected. “You know, what’s he going to do? Come to the door and say hello?”

Grinding his teeth for patience, Kaz added, “He wouldn’t expect us to knock. At the very least, it’ll mean less noise.”

Kolya shook his head as though that wasn’t what he wanted. “And the other option?

“Or Rus goes around back, and we take the front.”

“Finally, you’re making sense.”

Paying him no mind, Kaz was the first out of the car, his Glock at the ready as he started down the street. Though cars lined the street, it was an older neighborhood, one where all but few were in their homes at this hour. That made for very few witnesses if they were careful enough.

And Kaz was nothing if not careful.

Rus disappeared around a corner. Kolya was at Kaz’s back as they slipped past the fence surrounding the property and onto the porch. The interior was nearly as dark as the street save for the lone lamp in what looked like the living room—from what Kaz could make out through the curtains.

Gesturing to the door with a tilt of his head, Kaz looked at Kolya and said, “By all means.”

Kolya pulled out the small kit he always carried in his back pocket, carefully maneuvering the tools into place as he began working on the locks of the door. It was a trait he had taught both Kaz and Rus, but neither could breach a door quite as cleanly or as quick as Kolya could.

Twenty seconds and they were in.

Kaz kept his steps light as he carefully moved through the house, his eyes scanning the space. One thing that was always the same in older houses like these was the layout, so he had a good idea where the master bedroom was located.

They were barely through the doorway of the back hallway when the rear door opened, and Rus quickly moved to take position behind them. On this side of the house, soft light spilled from beneath a lone door, and if Kaz had to guess, this was Christian’s bedroom.

He only glanced in the direction of Kolya and Rus, giving the former a slight nod before stepping back. Kolya didn’t hesitate, rearing back to send his booted foot slamming into the door. The wood splintered, bits of it flying as the door crashed open, and a woman’s scream sounded from the other side.

Kaz was the first through, his gun aimed and ready, zeroing in on Christian as he reached for the firearm on the nightstand at his side. But he didn’t have time for that nonsense—he had shit to do. Pointing the gun at the man’s leg, he fired. The bullet hardly made a noise as it ripped free of the chamber and tore through the blankets that covered Christian’s legs. And from his shout of pain—loud enough to wake the f*cking dead—Kaz hadn’t missed his mark.

“I wouldn’t,” Kaz said, turning his attention to the woman at Christian’s side who, too, had been reaching for her own weapon. “While my mother might be disappointed, I’m not afraid to put a f*cking bullet in you if you move again.”

Fear shone in her eyes as she froze but behind that fear was audacity. He didn’t doubt that as the wife of a made man—judging from the ring on her finger—she was used to others giving her respect at every turn, but Kaz couldn’t give a shit.

“Russians,” Christian spat, glaring at them. “You’ve got a f*cking death wish.”

“Maybe so,” Kaz agreed as he walked to the man’s side and dragged him out of the bed, a far easier job now that he had a bullet in his leg. “But by the time I finish with you, you’re going to wish it were as simple as that.”