Page 2 of Bad Medicine
James began to wail, his head shaking back and forth frantically as he tried to speak around the gag in his mouth.
“Speak up!” Ivan shouted, slapping the guy on the back of his head before ripping the cloth out of his mouth. “You were saying?”
“Please,” James breathed, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Please, Gregor. I swear I don’t know what happened.”
Gregor?
I held my breath, both terrified of being caught and entranced by the scene before me, completely unable to look away.
“So you’re telling me,” Greg said conversationally, moving over to the counter and running his fingers over the knife block displayed there. He finally wrapped his hand around one of the handles, pulling out a large butcher knife. James moaned when he saw it, his shaking increasing violently. “That you have no idea where my drugs went?” He stood in front of James again, his pale blue eyes serious, as he casually spun the knife in his hand. “That you just misplaced over a hundred grand worth of my product and you don’t have the first fucking clue what happened to it?”
“It was in the truck,” James insisted, his eyes never leaving the knife. Ivan stood behind him, holding him up by his shoulders when it seemed he would collapse in pure terror. “I swear it was, Gregor. I locked it up myself. No one else had access to the yard, so it must have been someone on the inside.”
“Blaming someone else for your fuck up is not the best move here, James,” Ivan said with a nasty chuckle. “Do you know how much trouble you’re in?” James nodded pathetically. “I mean, you do know who this is, right?” he pressed, gesturing to Greg.
“G-Gregor Belikov,” James replied.
Belikov? What the hell was happening here?
I had never heard that name in my life. In our classes, he was Greg Belmont, chemistry student and future pharmacist. I didn’t know what was happening or why, but I was starting to think I needed to get the fuck out of here, and fast.
“That’s right,” Ivan sneered. “And do you think it’s a good idea to piss off the Brigadier of the Belikov Bratva?”
James once again shook his head frantically, the tears on his cheeks catching the light.
“So,” Greg went on, looking down at James. “You don’t know where my drugs are. You don’t know who took them. But you do know who I am, so you must know what comes next.”
Greg stared at James as if he were nothing more than an object, something to be examined and used, then discarded when it was no longer needed.
With a move so sudden, I was almost not sure I had seen it, Greg struck. I gasped, raising both hands to cover my mouth, as Greg’s fist once again grasped James by the hair while his other hand moved, slicing a path across the exposed throat before James could even voice a protest.
I watched, horrified, as the blood began to flow, a dark scarlet river coating James’ chest as it ran down to the floor. He hadn’t nicked any of the major vessels, so rather than an impressive display of arterial spray, James started choking on his own blood as it slowly oozed into the new hole in his trachea. Greg didn’t release him; instead, he stood over his victim, staring into his eyes until the light in them finally died.
Letting out a disgusted snort, Greg released the guy’s hair and watched as his lifeless body slumped to the ground in a heap.
I had seen bodies before. Of course I had. But the cadaver lab was a million miles from a murdered man on the floor not ten feet from where I stood, his blood still warm and pooling on the trendy gray tiles.
“You didn’t even tell him it was you who took the truck?” Ivan asked, his tone light, as though what he had just witnessed was nothing more than a joke.
“No,” Greg answered, walking over and tossing the knife in the sink with a loud clatter. “The fact that I was able to get it out from under him at all just proves he was useless anyway. Better I deal with him now than to wait for him to actually screw up and cost me money.” When Greg turned, he was practically looking at me, and I whipped my head back, body pressed to the wall as I held my breath.
Had he seen me?
I was dead meat if he’d seen me.
I had just watched the man kill someone in his goddamn kitchen; I was under no delusions that he wouldn’t want to leave any witnesses.
There was silence from the other room, and my blood froze in my veins with fear as I pictured Greg rounding the corner, grabbing me by the throat, and ending my life as easily as he’d ended James’.
But, after a moment, Ivan spoke up, assuaging my fears that I’d been discovered.
“I’m gonna miss this,” he said wistfully, like he was talking about fishing and not homicide. I decided this was my chance; I needed to get the fuck out of this house. “You sure you have to leave next week?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Greg replied, and I froze, one foot poised over the bottom stair.
Leave?
“What the hell is your uncle thinking, man?” Ivan went on, his tone making him sound like a whiny toddler. “I mean, what the fuck are you gonna do in Moscow?”
