Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(141)

“How are you doing, Fedor?” I ask nonchalantly.

His chin hangs low against his chest, but he stirs when I speak. Blood is matted in the lines of his face, aging him by at least a decade.

“F-fuck… you…” he coughs, rasping with each word.

“It’s time to expand the vocabulary,” I tell him. “Learn some new words. Tell me something useful.”

He spits blood on the concrete floor. “I ain’t talkin’.”

I shrug. “Then you’ll die.”

“Fucking kill me and get it over with!” he yells.

The words are still echoing off the walls when I pull out my gun and shoot him in the stomach. He screams and throws his weight backward. The chair tips and his body cracks against the floor.

But the death he wants so badly isn’t his quite yet.

He moans, tears squeezing out of his eyes. I gaze down at him with disinterest. “Are you sure you want to keep this up?”

He growls at me like a feral animal. “I c-can’t fucking w-wait for the day… that he destroys you. It will come. It fucking… fuck… It will… You got rats in your house, you fucking—”

My second shot finds its home between his eyes.

Once the booming echoes of my bullet fade, the cell goes silent. Konstantin and I turn to each other at the same time.

“Rats,” he says just before I do. “We’ve got fucking rats.”

I nod grimly. “At least he gave us something before he died.”

I head out of the cell. Konstantin follows me. “Rats, Misha,” he says again. “That’s plural. You caught that, didn’t you?”

“I caught it. But at least now, I know what we have to do.”

“Okay, sure, and what about Petyr in the meantime? Smoking out the vermin is going to take too damn long. We can’t just leave Petyr to his own devices.”

“No,” I agree darkly. “We can’t.”

Konstantin watches me for a moment. “I’ve seen that look before. Nothing good happens after that look, Misha.”

I meet his gaze, knowing he’s not going to like it. “It’s only a last resort.”

Konstantin frowns. “I hate it already. What’s this reckless plan you’re concocting?”

“We enlist the services of the Babai.”

His eyes bulge and his nostrils flare. I’ve never seen his skin pale so fast. “You’ve lost your goddamn mind, brother. The Babai? The Babai? Those men are—those motherfuckers can—Jesus Christ, dude, they’re deadly!”

“That’s the whole point.”

“They’re mercenaries, Misha. They’re absolutely soulless. How can you justify—”

“Because the Babai, unlike normal hitmen, have a code that they follow. If they accept my request, then they’re sworn to me until the job is complete. After that, I don’t give a damn what they do.”

Konstantin trembles. “I don’t know, man. The fucking Babai… It’s dangerous. Reckless. It’s not a last resort; it’s a bedbug-ridden hotel on the wrong side of town. It’s a cardboard box under a freeway with a bunch of methheads. It’s a bad, bad idea.”

“Well, then let’s hope Petyr doesn’t give me reason to use it.”

Konstantin blows out a long breath. “We are so fucked…”





109

PAIGE

“Oh my God!” Rowan exclaims as she bites into a fresh calzone. “My mouth is having an orgasm.

Multiple.”

“I know. He brings them in every week for me now.”

“From where, heaven? God, you are a lucky bitch.” Rowan swallows with a smile. “Seriously, this is the life. Working from home, angel-made calzones whenever you want, the hottest husband on the face of the planet who loves nothing more than going down on you…”

We started with miniature apple pies and croissants in the breakfast nook, but somehow, Rowan and I ended up on the patio with lemonade and dark chocolate glazed donuts. After lunch by the pool, we are now gorging ourselves on calzones in my bedroom.

“He may be hot, but he’s also a handful,” I warn.

She rolls her eyes. “Alright already. You can stop bragging.”

“Ew!” I slap her arm, but can't help but snort with laughter. “I’ve missed our lunch breaks, Ro.”

“Honestly, so have I. It was so nice having you around the office.”

“I’m coming back. Eventually,” I say, cradling my stomach fondly. “I should be cleared to go back to the office in a few weeks. And then our overly extended lunch breaks can resume.”

Rowan smiles. “I look forward to it. Jason from accounting insists on eating with me. It’s been exhausting.”

I frown, trying to remember what Jason from accounting looked like. “Isn’t he the tall blonde with the smile?”

“That’s the one.”

“He’s cute!”

“And he knows it,” Rowan deadpans, rolling her eyes. “I’m just not interested. But he definitely is.”

“Can I ask why you’re not interested?” I ask curiously. She shrugs, and I can tell I’ve touched a sore spot. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”