Page 12 of Echoes of Sin

“Vodka?” I barked out a laugh and rolled my eyes. “This bro is American?”

Dmitri nodded. “Very American,” he replied in a horrible attempt at an American accent.

I glanced at the spreadsheet I was ignoring in favor of obsessing over Brooke and then back at Dmitri with a shrug. “What the hell? If nothing else, we’ll get to laugh over horrible American vodka.” I wasn’t in the market for a new alcohol distributor, but if the vodka was good, which it wouldn’t be, I would give it a shot. “Let’s hear him out.”

Dmitri rolled his eyes. “You are the boss.”

I smiled. “Don’t you forget it, Dmitri.”

A blond man with skin too tan and teeth too white, smiled broadly when he saw me approach. He stood and smoothed down his expensive black blazer that capped off an outfit that made him look as if he was trying too hard to look wealthy. And successful. “Mr. Kuznetsov! Bradley Newlander from New Found Beverages.” He extended his hand, and I accepted it without a smile. “Thank you for taking time to meet with me.”

“Of course.” I found his handshake limp and too moist, which explained the boisterous greeting and too bright smile. “You make vodka?”

He smiled, not at all offended. “Me? No, I’m just a drinker of the stuff. But my company has a new vodka that I think a man of your tastes can appreciate, and getting our bottles in here would be one hell of a coup for me.”

I studied Bradley closely. He said all of the right things, but something about him didn’t ring true, and it wasn’t just that he was a salesman. “And what do you know of my tastes, Mr. Newlander?”

He blinked quickly and cast a confused look at Dmitri. “I don’t mean to presume, but the story in New York Underground mentioned your penthouse apartment decorated with the very best that luxury has to offer, the exclusivity of the nightclubs and gaming rooms. I just meant you seem to like quality, which I assure you Brotherhood Vodka is.” A nervous sigh rushed out, which proved Bradley was smarter than he looked.

Brotherhood Vodka had a nice ring to it, which I was sure had a lot to do with why he’d come to me, but my mind was focused on something else. “What story?” My gaze shot to Dmitri first and then a visibly frightened Bradley.

It was the vodka salesman who spoke. “It’s how I knew where to find you,” he said, and handed me his phone. “It’s a pretty extensive piece, Mr. Kuznetsov. They cover your penthouse furnishings, your businesses here in the city, and even some, um, speculation about other activities.” He held his hands up at my thunderous expression. “Not my words. It’s in there,” he pointed to his phone.

I gripped his phone so tight I worried I might crack it, so I slammed it on the bar. “Let me taste your vodka, then.”

His expression brightened while Dmitri grunted beside me. He wasn’t happy with the idea of stocking anything other than Russian vodka, but my goal was to make money. Period. “May I?” He motioned to the bar.

“Why not?” I watched as he rounded the bar and poured the clear liquid over ice into two glasses, and then shook some in a shaker before he lined it all up in front of us.

“On the rocks and shaken very cold.” He flashed a confident smile as if my delight was a foregone conclusion.

I looked at him, “Pour yourself one too.”

Bradley looked confused.

“It is bad manners to refuse a toast.” It was even worse manners to try and poison someone. Maybe I was being cautious, but you don’t get to my position by being trusting.

The American poured out another glass.

“If you are concerned about drinking and driving, I shall ensure that you get back to wherever you are staying safely.”

I waited for him to take a drink, before I tasted mine. I sipped the one with the ice first. It was good slightly cold. “Is that a hint of lemongrass I taste?’

“Excellent palate, Mr. Kuznetsov. It’s supposed to make the vodka taste more refreshing. I can’t taste it myself, my palate isn’t very sophisticated, but what do you think of it?”

If he was trying to flatter me, it wasn’t working. Before I answered, I tried the shaken one. “Better. It’s good.” It was damn good, in fact. The taste was clean, which meant proper distillation, and it was strong, which was a good way to get people to spend more money. “Impressive.”

“Yeah?” His surprise was a put on that I was sure worked for him. Usually.

“Do not feign surprise with me. It is off putting.”

Bradley smiled. “Noted. It is good vodka, but when you come from the land of vodka, nothing can be guaranteed.”

“Good answer.” I looked to Dmitri, who wore a fierce scowl. “You like it.”

He knocked back the other glass and grunted. “It’s good.” That was high praise from my old friend.

“Let’s start with a case and see how it sells. If it does well, we can talk about it in a week. If not, wait for my call.”

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