Page 10 of Nine Months to Bear
But I ignore the jab, because something else has my attention. The nameIAKOV ZAKHAROVlooms up at me from where it’s stamped on top of the file.
I start to readjust the messed-up rows of tiny springs, then stop myself, not wanting to show signs of my inner turmoil to anyone, not even Taras.
“You could just tell me the news instead of hurling it at me,” I remark. “Some might even prefer that.”
“Where would be the fun in that?” Taras taps the printed name again.IAKOV ZAKHAROV.Then he slumps into a nearby seat and lights up another cigarette. “Iakov’s pushing into the docks. Our mole in the Bureau thinks he’s feeding intel to the feds, trying to clean out the city so he can run it how he wants.”
He’s trying to take my house to the fucking ground, is what he’s trying to do. He wants to reveal my dirty secrets to the feds and wipe me out as competition. All because his daddy ended up six feet under and he blames me for the death.
But, in a roundabout way, I ought to thank him. If it weren’t for Iakov trying to one-up me, I never would’ve gone to that gala. And I never would’ve set up today’s meeting.
One look at Olivia Aster last night, trembling with vulnerability, and I knew she was my girl.
Mostly because she doesn’t have the strength to resist what I have planned for her.
Taras’s eyes narrow at the way my jaw thrums. “You’re doing that twitchy control thing, boss. This isn’t a big deal. All we have to do is get our shit above board.”
“What the fuck do you think I’m doing?” The picture of Olivia flutters to the ground between us and it’s like being caught with my dick in my hand. I squash it beneath my boot before he can see.
But Taras is a dog with a bone. He sees it and instantly understands. “I think we have other options for legitimizing the business. Cleaner ones. Dr. Aster’s clinic is?—”
“Keep the surveillance on her facility.” I clear my throat. “It’s the only way to move forward.”
“Oh, c’mon, man,” he spits. “You want legitimacy? Buy a fucking casino, Stefan. Hell, go old school and get yourself a fleet of laundromats. We’ll wash all our dirty money right up. But this clinic scheme reeks of you chasing a?—”
I slam my fist down on the table. Gun parts go flying. A cut opens on the side of my hand, blood trickling down to dot my cuff. “You question my judgment again and I’ll ship your tongue to your mother in a jewelry box.”
Taras chuckles, completely unfazed. “Ah. So it’s like that?”
I breathe through my nose. In. Out. My control is slipping, and I hate it.
“Yes. It’s like that.” I turn away so he can’t see my face. “So if you have anything actually useful to say, say it now.” I start to organize the parts again. “Because if you’re still here by the time this gun is ready to fire, I’m using it on you.”
I catch his eye roll in my peripherals. He’s been my best friend long enough to be familiar with my temper.
“I have other stuff, but nothing worth my life.” He snorts. “Just a mid-level employee missing from the office. Not picking up his phone, no one has seen him in a while.”
“A snitch?”
He shrugs. “Could be. Smells like it. Doubt he knows anything important, though.”
“Keep looking for him,” I order. “And when you catch him, feed him to Koshka.” The cat in our Dorchester warehouse has a taste for traitors. “Now, leave, and take the stressed-out cigarette smoke with you.”
“Fuckin’ pot calling the fuckin’ kettle black, talking tomeabout stress…” he mumbles under his breath as if I can’t hear him. But he rises and crushes the cigarette beneath his heel. “For a man who claims this is all business, you’re awfully touchy today. Could it be because of who you’re meeting with in just a few?—?”
I click the final piece into place and turn, my gun pointed at Taras.
My best friend holds up his hands even as he smirks, slowly retreating towards the entrance. “Got it. I’ll just see myself out then.”
When the door mercifully clicks shut, I grip the edge of the shooting stall.
Inhale. Exhale.
I look down at the items arranged before me—vodka, a Bersa .380, and the stolen photo of Olivia with her orchids, crumpled on the floor.
Her smile is soft in the grainy image. Unguarded.Dangerous.
Her laugh from the gala echoes in my head. It wasn’t crystalline bullshit, fake and fancy, filtered through money and manners like the rest of them. It was raw. It was real.
