Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal #2)(40)

Ah and there it was. That healthy dose of fear men got when they realized just what they were dealing with. It was easy to pretend somebody from the outside was nothing. That they couldn’t be worth half their salt.

How easily some seemed to underestimate him.

But they wouldn’t, not for much longer.

“You can’t kill me for that,” Christian said, forcing his head back up. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Tell me about this deal.”

He seemed to realize his error too late. Kaz didn’t care about the death, but he wanted to know about the happenings before it. It wouldn’t be enough that Alberto gave Christian the order. No, he needed proof of Vasily’s involvement in the matter. He could have only hoped that the consigliere knew some of the finer details—he was closest to Alberto after all—and that information would get him exactly where he needed to be.

“You know, or we wouldn’t be here.”

Tired of the man, Kaz pulled the belt he had tied around his leg free and let it drop to the ground then ripped off the makeshift bandage. Shifting his hold on the vise grips, he shoved the handle into the bullet wound, using every bit of his considerable strength to shove the handle deeper past shredded muscle.

Christian tried to maintain his balance, but between jerking his leg, trying to escape the agony he was in, and the ties biting into the flesh of his wrists, he couldn’t go anywhere.

Blood pooled around the weapon, sliding hot and wet across Kaz’s fingers, the sight of it both unsettling and riveting. He was seconds from extracting it and finding another weapon to use on him when Christian finally broke.

“Vasily!” Christian shouted, voice thick with pain. “It was all his idea.”

“Good man,” Kaz said releasing his hold on the weapon though it stayed embedded in his flesh. “Finish.”

Taking a few deep breaths to fight his way through the pain, Christian replied, “In exchange for an end to the war, he would give us Gavrill.”

“And he would be free to take the boss’ seat,” Kolya supplied from his position across the room.

Rus’ expression was unreadable.

It all made sense now, the reason why Vasily was so adamant about them avoiding the Italians all these years. He knew Kaz would figure it out, would finally connect the dots and find what he had been hiding. It also explained his hatred and jealousy toward his brother, the need to be more than he was.

A desperate man always made mistakes.

And his mistake was turning against his own for greed.

“You asked what I wanted from you, Carracci, and now, I have an answer to your question.” He waited until the man’s eyes focused on him. “I want to watch my father burn, and you’re the key to that.”





The unnerving thing about Konstantin Boykov was his quietness. One minute, he could be smiling, loud, and seemingly in a good mood, and the next, he was quiet and still, staring off into nothing and looking like a damn statue.

Violet wasn’t quite sure what to make of that as she sipped from a cup of coffee and watched the youngest Boykov brother across the room.

Ankle crossed over his knee, not a speck of dirt or dust on his suit, and a blank expression firmly etched in place, Konstantin looked like something carved from ice.

“Must you stare?” he asked, surprising Violet.

“For someone who makes a lot of noise most of the time, it’s kind of strange when you’re quiet.”

“It’s a gift.”

Konstantin offered nothing else, and he didn’t look away from the pale beige wall he’d been staring at for the last half hour.

“Are you … thinking or something?” she dared to ask.

“No.”

“Meditating?”

Finally, Konstantin’s stony mask cracked as his brow crumpled. “Do you actually know someone who does that?”

“Meditates?”

“That’s what you said, no?”

Violet frowned. “I can’t say I do.”

Konstantin shrugged. “I’m not meditating.”

“So you just stare at walls and do nothing.”

It wasn’t even a question.

“Am I bothering you?”

“Well—”

“It wouldn’t matter if I were,” he interrupted with a slight smile.

Violet sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“You don’t have to live with me, so it matters very little what you think of my behaviors.”

“I pity the woman who does live with you, then.”

Konstantin chuckled. “Nice try, but Viktoria doesn’t get much of a choice in that.”

Huh.

Violet took that information in just as Konstantin had easily handed it over. She wasn’t all too surprised to learn that Konstantin was single, considering he hadn’t brought women around when he did visit, unlike Kolya, who almost always brought his wife. And for that matter, no one ever said a thing about Konstantin being involved with someone.

“Do you do this—”

The ringing of a phone interrupted Violet’s question. Konstantin passed her a look that told her to keep quiet as he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and placed the device up to his ear.

“Konstantin here,” he said, gazing turning back on the wall and growing silent as he listened for a few moments. “Is that so? I wasn’t aware a problem was left behind.”