Page 14 of In Her Blood
Agitation had her grinding her teeth. No way did she believe he hadn’t already known Otto was off the property. But she kept her chin raised and her stare steady. “That’s a greatidea,” she quipped, “I’ll text Otto to swing by the shelter and pick me up the hairiest, most unfriendly dog he can find on his way home. Then I’ll park that dog at my door and train it to despise you so you maybe learn not to pop up uninvited.”
Pyotr scrunched his face with mock amusement. “Yes, I’m sure a mutt like that will do fabulously on the streets when I throw you both out.”
Evelina offered him a tight-lipped smile. “As much as I love your banter, Pyotr,whyare you darkening my door? You have an entire wing to frolic through.”
“By the end of the day, I’ll have the whole fucking house, dear cousin,” he replied, his smirk returning. “I cannot wait to see what you’ve done with my sex dungeon.” He tilted his head, gaze again shifting past her. “Is that a shelving unit?” Excitement lifted his tone. “You added storage?”
Anger and disgust lashed through her in equal measure and Evelina pulled the door close to her side, squeezing herself up against the doorframe simultaneously in an effort to minimize what Pyotr could see. “You are never stepping foot into this space again, your repulsive bastard.” She drew a breath. “And what the hell do you mean, you’ll have the whole house?”
His stare snapped back to hers, smirk unwavering, and he tucked his hands into his pockets. “Uncle Mikhail’s Will is being read this afternoon. What else would I mean?”
Evelina felt her mouth drop open. She swore the floor disappeared from beneath her feet. Her fingers dug into the edge of the door as her knees gave out for a split-second, causing her to wobble. “What?” The question was barely a whisper on her lips.
What Pyotr said was impossible.Shewas the next-of-kin. She was the one who should be notified once everything was released, and she hadn’t heard from the estate lawyer since the morning of the funeral.How long has it been?Five days—it had been five days since then.
Each breath sliced through her middle as Evelina fought to hold herself upright, but after a handful of seconds, the pain ebbed. “You lying piece of shit. I haven’t gotten any updates about that.”
Pyotr arched a brow. “You haven’t heard anything, so I’m the liar?” Amusement danced across his eyes. “Awfully entitled, aren’t you?” His lips twitched again and he offered a shrug. “I guess it really was nice of me to drop by, then, wasn’t it? And here I thought I was giving you notice to get packing.”
She dug her nails into the doorframe, paint chipping off and jabbing up beneath her nailbeds in flakes. “What. Time?”
Pyotr was already turning. “You should probably call the lawyer for the details,” he said. “Show a little initiative, you know?” He paused and glanced back at her. “I mean, that’s what arealpakhan would do.”
Evelina sucked in a breath, Pyotr’s words fueling her anger. “I’ll show you initiative.” She spun on her heel, Pyotr’s responding laughter grating in her ears as she slammed the door, and yanked her phone from her pocket as she marched into the sitting room. It sucked that Otto was out, and that she wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be. But she wasn’t some kept woman trapped at home. Nor did she trust the majority of that home, so first, she had to make a call. She used her freehand to close out of the pointless research tabs she’d left open on her laptop simultaneously.
Kirill picked up before the second ring. “Miss Nikolaev?”
The stiff formality was not her favorite thing, but for once, it felt appropriate. “Are you on-site?” It wasn’t like she knew his routine. Kirill was familiar to her because he was friendly with Otto, but she didn’t know him well.
“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”
“For starters, you can wait another twenty years before you run with that ‘ma’am’ shit,” she snapped. Her formality tolerance had limits. She drew a breath. “I need to step out for a bit, and I’m … lacking in trust at the moment. I need you to stand guard at my door until I can get back; it might be a couple hours.”
“Won’t be a problem,” Kirill replied. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
She smiled. “Great. Thanks.” She hung up in order to focus on what she might need to gather for her unplanned outing. It wasn’t like she was going hiking or running away, but she’d need a coat to cover her shoulders and better footwear than her comfy slippers. By the time she’d accomplished the change, and selected a purse, Kirill was waiting beside her door.
He nodded to her as she finished locking up, his hands folded in front of his waist in cliché security-guy form. The faint movement of his head didn’t so much as shift his short, auburn-hued hair, and the smile he offered with the nod showed more in his pale green eyes than on his lips. “Something happen to Otto?”
Evelina tucked her keys into her purse and settled the strap over her shoulder. “No.” Granted, she was taking that a little on faith at the moment and the reality of that notion made her stomach churn.He went to meet his father. They get along.She swallowed her insecurities down. “Some stuff just came up unexpectedly is all.” She motioned to the door. “I’m not expecting anyone, and no one but me or Otto has permission to come and go. So, if anyone”—she locked her stare on his—“and I meananyone,tries to bully or force their way into my space while I’m out, shoot them in the stomach.”
Kirill nodded.
Evelina scrunched up her lips, running potential scenarios through her mind like rapid-fire snapshots. “I’ll leave it at your discretion as to whether or not to offer them one warning. Unless it’s Pyotr. He already knows he’s not welcome here under any circumstances.” She studied Kirill’s face carefully as she spoke, because she was technically assuming Kirill’s loyalty in this moment and they both knew it.
That eye-smile thing shone back at her. “In that case, I may have to shoot Grisha first.”
Okay, maybe I like him.“Do what you have to do.”
Kirill nodded again. “Understood.”
Evelina smiled. “If I’m not back by nightfall, something went wrong. And thank you.” She offered a nod of her own, then turned and started down the hall. It wasn’t until her own words had hit her ears that it really occurred to her how easily somethingcouldgo wrong.
She firmly believed her father had been assassinated. He had been pakhan of an established bratva in a reputably dangerouscity, so it was arguably more surprising that he’d held the position for nearly four decades or that he’d lived to his late seventies at all. She understood that. It was the timing that truly concerned her. He hadn’t just been assassinated; he’d been assassinated mere days after his wife’s funeral. And in the wake of his death, his succession was so up for debate that his closest soldiers and his brigadiers couldn’t agree on who should hold the title.
In the beginning, she’d believed her father’s death had been a personal killing. That he’d been murdered by someone aggrieved by him in some way. It wasn’t as if Mikhail Nikolaev had been a soft, kind man.
But it occurred to Evelina there was another perspective. That his death had been carefully timed, and she was the last remaining obstacle to the murderer’s near-perfect coup. Because in that scenario, she was the final true heir that needed to be removed. If Pyotr’s claim were irrefutable, he would already hold the title, anyway.
