Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)(8)

Between the two Markovic brothers, Ruslan took after their father more than Kaz did in appearance. Ruslan had a good forty pounds of muscle over Kaz’s lean, tall one-eighty-five. His brother would make the perfect linebacker, with wide shoulders and a chilling stare ready to silence anyone who looked at him the wrong way. At six-foot-six, Ruslan had three inches of height on Kaz. Ruslan sported their father’s squared jaw and thin lips, while Kaz had taken his mother’s sharp lines and fuller smirk.

Anyone who didn’t know Ruslan always took a step back when they first met him. He was as intimidating in stature as he was in behavior. But Kaz did know his brother, and he didn’t find him intimidating at all.

Ruslan put a hand on Kaz’s shoulder and squeezed. Then, he turned to Nathaniel.

“I will be back after I get my brother a drink,” Ruslan said.

Nathaniel didn’t look up from the tablet in his hands, which contained what looked to be names he was scrolling through. The man was always around. Wherever Ruslan went, Nathaniel was right around the corner. Kaz didn’t mind him all that much because he stayed out of his business, and Ruslan’s, for the most part.

“Sure, Rus,” Nathaniel replied.

Kaz gave Nathaniel a nod that was returned as he passed. The music instantly became louder as the entrance doors of the club opened under Ruslan’s push. Walking in behind his brother, Kaz took in the floor of the club. He noted the moving bodies going from the bar to the dance floor, and between the tables and booths.

The place was packed, but it wasn’t shocking. Ruslan had created a high-energy atmosphere with constant movement and total sensory pleasure with the music, lighting, and modern setup. The club scene wasn’t Kaz’s thing, but he could appreciate the effort and talent it took for his brother to pull something like this off.

Not to mention, make it a success.

“Looks full,” Kaz said, coming up to his brother’s side.

Ruslan shrugged, but pride radiated in the action. “Trying to keep it under fire code limit. We don’t need that problem.”

Kaz chuckled. “No, we certainly don’t.”

The brothers came up to a bar that stretched from one wall of the club all the way down to the other, the background made of mirrors that reflected the glistening bottles lined up there. Ruslan caught the gaze of one of the bartenders, and waved two fingers high.

“Two vodka. Neat.”

The bartender nodded, and turned to ready the drinks, abandoning the one he was already prepping for someone waiting at the bar. Ruslan spun around to face the crowd and Kaz followed the action.

“So, Vasily was his usual self, yes?” Ruslan asked.

Kaz forced his scowl away. “Same old.”

“The twins’ birthday is in a couple weeks.”

Shit.

Kaz had forgotten about that. Their fifteen-year-old sisters would be soon turning sixteen. Vasily and Irina, their mother, had probably planned something for the girls. Vera, their other sister who was one year older than Kaz, would come in from the city for it.

But Ruslan …

Blyad.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ruslan said.

“I’ll talk to him—he shouldn’t exclude you with the family.”

“It’s easier.”

“But you want to go, no?” Kaz asked. “See the twins, and Vera? Irina, too.”

Ruslan frowned. “It’s been a while for all of them.”

Kaz was aware of just how long it had been since Ruslan had been allowed to any family event. Vasily kept up appearances well enough, for show and nothing else, but he made every effort to keep Ruslan away.

He hated that for his brother.

“I’ll talk to him,” Kaz said again, offering nothing more.

The brothers turned at the sound of glasses clinking down on the bartop.

Kaz picked up his drink and tilted it toward his brother. “Za zdorov'e, brat.”

Ruslan returned the sentiment before tipped his own glass back and emptying it in one go. Kaz took his a little bit slower, wanting to enjoy the taste of good vodka.

His brother clapped him on the shoulder after he’d discarded his empty glass to the bar. “Stay and drink. Watch the people. You never go out unless it’s for the bratva. I’ll be around.”

Kaz thought about it, and decided maybe he would stay. He’d only promised to come and see the club in live action, given how much work his brother put into it, but he did like the place.

“Find me after you’re done vetting people at the door,” Kaz said.

Ruslan laughed. “Unless you’ve already found some krasivaya kiska to take home.”

Well, Kaz chose not to respond to that.

But he did grin.

Before long, Kaz was milling through the throng of people, his gaze sweeping the floor for anyone he might recognize or for some problem that might show up all of the sudden. It wouldn’t be a surprise if some fool thought they could try something. He was sure that Ruslan had a dozen different plans at the ready, in case an issue came up, but the habit was hard to break.

Kaz didn't know how to break his habits.

He stayed to the far walls and corners as he strolled around the joint. His front to the people, his back to the wall—always. Cowards had a way about them. They preferred to hit a person from behind. So even if the club was lively with no threat in sight, Kaz couldn’t help his instincts.