Painted Scars (Perfectly Imperfect, #1)(45)

“We need to try again. That bastard is walking,” Leonid says.

“Hm. I’m not sure it works for me anymore, Leonid,” answers Tanush.

“You can’t change your mind now!”

“Of course, I can. I acted impulsively. I was mad because Petrov rejected my daughter, and I wanted to make him pay. But he makes me good money.”

“We had a deal, Tanush. You help me take him out of the picture, and I make sure you get a better cut when I take over.”

“See, that’s the thing, Leonid. Even if you give me a bigger cut, I doubt you can keep the business going. I decided I don’t want to risk it. I’m out.”

The line goes dead.

I lean back in my chair, take my phone, and call Maxim. “Where is Leonid?”

“He’s out. I heard him tell Valentina to bring him his dinner up at five.”

“That won’t be necessary. I want everyone off the upper floor after four. And I mean everyone. No one comes up until I give word.”



There is silence on the other side, probably Maxim connecting the dots.

“I’ll make sure it’s done. What about Nina?”

“I need her out of the house. Dushku’s daughter is getting married, and he invited us to attend. I’ll send her to shop for a gift. Tell Dimitri to send Ivan with her. They are not to come back under any circumstances before I call him. I don’t care what he needs to do to distract her, but she’s not coming back here until I’m done. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Pakhan.”



*

It takes some convincing, but I manage to send Nina away around four. She was bent on us having dinner together, but she caved when I said that I have too much work to do.

I enter my walk-in closet and take my gun. After checking it, I grab my crutches and head into Leonid’s room. I sit in the recliner in the corner, directly across from the door, place the gun on the coffee table, and then I wait.

Sometime before five, Leonid enters the room. Seeing me there, his eyebrows shoot up, but he collects himself rather quickly. “Something happened?”

“Close the door, Leonid.”

“Roman?”

“The door,” I say.

He does as he’s told, and starts walking toward me when he notices the gun on the table. He stills, eyes going wide, then turns to run away. I take the gun and, pointing to his right knee, I shoot.

The sound explodes in the room, and Leonid’s scream follows. He crumbles to the floor on his side and starts wailing, clutching his bloodied leg.

“If you wanted to take my place, you really should have made sure I was dead, Leonid.”

“Bastard,” he sneers through his teeth, his spit flying everywhere. “I’m going to kill you!”

Screaming, he lurches in my direction, his hands raised like a madman’s. I aim at his head and let the bullet fly. His body crumbles to the floor, blood pooling around his head.

“You had your chance for that, Uncle,” I say to his prone body.

I stand up and start walking toward the door when Leonid’s phone rings. I consider ignoring it, but then bend down and reach for it, while my knee screams in pain. The screen shows an unknown

number. I take the call.

“I found her,” the voice from the other side says. “Prepare the money transfer.”

The call disconnects.




“Are you sure?” I look over the vase I’m holding. “It’s atrocious. I’m positive they will love it, and this one already costs more than a car.”

“Pakhan said it needs to be something large.” Ivan shrugs his shoulders and stands behind me.

“I’ll ask if they have bigger vases.” I turn toward the sales assistant.

I feel overwhelmed with all the fancy pieces of décor on display around me. It makes me nervous knowing that the cheapest item here has at least three zeroes on the price tag. There were much more

appropriate things that could be brought as a wedding gift, but for some reason, Roman insisted I come all the way across Chicago and choose something from this exact shop. Everything here is so over the top, including the golden chandeliers and life-size David replicas. It makes me shudder.

Some people have really weird taste.

I pass the tall glass vitrine holding sets of crystal glasses when I hear a sound piercing the air. The vitrine shatters and falls to the ground, a million tiny glass pieces exploding everywhere. People start screaming. Hands grab me around the waist and pull me down to the floor. In the next moment, Ivan is hunched over me, ushering me toward the back of the store. Another shot rings out and I stumble, reaching with my hand to avoid hitting the floor headfirst. Pain sears my palm. With his hand clutched around my upper arm, Ivan keeps dragging me toward the emergency exit, while shouting into the phone he holds with his other hand.

We burst through the emergency exit into the back alley at the same moment a car comes around the corner. The tires screech when the car stops abruptly. Ivan pushes me back inside the doorway, reaches into his jacket, and takes out a gun. I hear two shots ring out almost simultaneously.

“Stay there,” he says over his shoulder and leaves my sight.

A couple of seconds later, I hear another shot. I have no idea what’s happening. Is it a random shooting or someone trying to kill us? Should I stay here or go back inside? Should I get out and look for Ivan? I’m so scared, I’m not sure I could move from the spot even if I knew where I should go.