Becoming Rain (Burying Water #2)(17)

Rust answers in English. “Why not?”

Another gaze my way, this one harder. Still in Russian, “Do my father and I need to be worried about the future of our business relationship?”

Rust’s lips curl back in a smile that is anything but pleasant. “I trust Luke more than I trust anyone else,” he says, his voice calm, easygoing . . . full of warning.

I clench my fist and force out a gritted smile, imagining punching that f*ck square in the jaw. I’d probably end up knocked out, but at least I’d get the first hit in.

Another second’s pause and then Vlad mutters, as if bored, “The crates are all loaded. The ship will be leaving within the hour.”

“And the second delivery?”

“Da.” Yes. “Already in the containers.”

“Good. What’s going on over on the other side?”

“Your business is only on this side.” He does a cursory glance around before heaving a black duffel bag through the window to Rust.

The weight of it as Rust drops it onto my lap is surprising. He watches me, nodding toward it.

I pull the zipper. My heart rate spikes as stacks of cash appear.

“How do we look?” Rust asks.

How the hell should I know! I want to snap, frustrated with always being in the dark. But I’m guessing that it’s not about what I know; it’s about how I present myself, with Vlad sitting right here, watching. If they’ve ripped us off, we’re going to find out as soon as we count. And now isn’t the time to count.

“We look about right,” I answer, keeping my voice as even and steely as possible.

“Talk to you later.” Rust pulls away without waiting for a response. It isn’t until we’re back on the main road that the Russian slurs escape from under his breath. “Count that. Make sure that shithead didn’t undercut us.”

“You think he would?”

“Vlad was just a pimply-faced little brat when I first met him. Now, look at him. Thinks he’s something special.”

I guess that means yes. “How much should there—”

“Four hundred K.”

I let out a low whistle as I begin thumbing through a stack of hundreds and thousands.

“Andrei gets paid by the buyers on the other side, but Vlad gives me my half up front because my work is done. It’s supposed to be a partnership. But they’ve started shortchanging me, claiming an extra five percent for all the red tape. I think they’re pocketing it.” He scowls. “They’d never try that if Viktor was still in the picture.”

“How well do you know Andrei?”

“He’s been our overseas contact for five years, but he was always Viktor’s contact. A month after Viktor died, he reached out to me, wanting to keep it going.”

“Why didn’t he go to Albert? Aren’t they all—” Do I say it out loud? I settle on, “connected?” Albert was Viktor’s right-hand man, after all. The two of them were attached at the hip. I never sat at a table with Viktor without Albert sitting right next to him.

I sense Rust studying me out of the corner of my eye. Did he really think I hadn’t figured out who they are? “Because this is my network. I’ve spent years building a smart organization. Besides, Albert has his skills, but dealing on the American side . . . this is what I’m good at. All those guys do is bully and threaten, and that doesn’t build solid business relationships.”

“But Vlad doesn’t trust me.” It’s not a question.

“Vlad doesn’t trust anyone.” He sighs. “I just surprised him tonight, is all. Normally it’s Miller and Vlad who exchange the money.”

My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? Miller’s part of this?”

“Has been for a long time. But you don’t know that. Understand? Not a word about it.”

“You actually trust him to deal with a guy like Vlad? And with this kind of money?” I can’t see Miller and Vlad working well together.

“Yeah, I do, actually, and you’re going to have to bury whatever beef the two of you have and learn to trust him too. You’ll be swapping roles with him when you’re ready, taking over the payday with Vlad while Miller handles your fences. Vlad tends to push Miller around, and I know you’ll be better at handling him.”

I don’t see how that’s possible, but I don’t argue. “How’s Miller feel about this?”

“Miller doesn’t have a choice if he wants to keep making money.” He pauses, as if deciding whether to say more. “He’s got some personal stuff going on. Stuff that motivates him to stick with me and make money. You want Miller on your side, trust me. He’s a good worker and he’s loyal. Another good lesson—keep your doors open but hidden. You never know when someone’s going to prove useful in the future. ”

Jeez. How many hidden doors does Rust have open? Are Tabbs and Zeke in on this? “Look, if I’m in, then you need to fill me in on a few more things. I can’t look like the idiot that Vlad already thinks I am.”

Rust slouches back into his seat, like he’s getting ready for a long drive and a long talk. “What is it that you feel you need to know?”

Where do I start? “How does this all work? How do you get the orders? Who do you phone? What do they do with the cars?”