Page 16 of Bratva Bastard

So I left, Crissy standing at the bar watching me go.

7

Crissy

“Twenty minutes, Ms. Diaz,” the pharmacist said, turning to get my mother’s medication.

After my morning yoga class, I headed to the pharmacy, hoping to be in and out, but they hadn’t yet filled the prescription. As I browsed the aisles to kill time, I bumped into Wanderson, the night-shift security guard at the hotel.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping right now?” I asked, making him jump. “You have a shift later.”

He turned around, his eyes heavy with dark bags underneath. “I would, but my wife’s sick. She’s been throwing up, and spent more time in the bathroom this morning than in bed. I had to come out to get her some medicine.”

“Oh, no. Tell Louise I hope she feels better soon.” He nodded, and I added, “Do you think she’s throwing up for other reasons?” I wiggled my eyebrows playfully.

He shook his tired head. “Nope. She got her tubes tied years ago, after our fourth. I think she picked up something from work.”

After he’d paid for his medicine, we walked down the main avenue together, having a little chit-chat while I waited for my mother’s prescription. Once we turned the corner, he discreetly pointed to two men walking down the street.

“You see those men?” he whispered. “Russians. I heard them talking this morning before I left. They’ve been hanging around the hotel a lot the past few days. I’m not sure what it is about them, but something in my gut tells me they’re up to no good. They’ve displayed some suspicious behavior, so be careful tonight. You still have two hours with Javier before I start my shift, and you know how he is.”

I snorted, knowing exactly what he meant. Lazy. Javier sat in his chair all night, fiddling with his phone. Unless someone physically asked him to do something, he wouldn’t. “Thanks for the tip.”

The men passed by us, speaking in their native tongue, which was indeed Russian. Since Gabby had planned on living in Moscow, I tried learning Russian for when I visited her, though after the plane ride I was rethinking that plan. Between work, and caring for my mother, I hadn’t learned much, but it was enough to pick up on a few Russian phrases.

How strange that the same time Maxim showed up in Trancoso, so did these other Russians. Were the two events related in some way? What if Maxim got caught up in some nasty business and that’s how he got his injury? He did say it was a domestic dispute. Maybe that was the clean way of saying Bratva business. And Zoran got his job with the Bratva from his best friend, who I can only assume was Maxim.

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

“Crissy?” Wanderson said. “Honey, I think your prescriptions are probably ready now.”

I shook my head, coming back to reality. “You’re right,” I smiled, hooking my arm through his. “C’mon Wanderson, I’ll walk you back.”

Wanderson said goodbye, he’d see me later at the hotel. But instead of going home after, I headed back to the Russians. My suspicions had been roused, and I wanted to know more. If these men were wandering around the same hotel as Maxim, they must be there for him. After all, he is the only Russian staying there.

I’d lost track of them and had to walk down several streets before I found them again, sitting at a local cafe with a Brazilian woman. Maybe they were here for her and not Maxim?

The woman was absolutely stunning. Long dark hair down her backless dress that hugged her figure, and lips that were plumper than Maria Gonzales’ butt in skinny jeans. If only Gabby was here, she’d appreciate that joke about her neighbor.

Even though the woman was a local, she spoke fluent Russian. I eavesdropped as I ordered my coffee, playing mindlessly on my phone to look busy, though I was just repeatedly clicking into apps and then exiting them. I was too focused on playing translator.

And it was a good thing, too. Because what I heard made my hair stand on end, every fiber of my being crying out that I needed to get to Maxim.

I heard his name in the same sentence as hotel, I think. It was that or pasta, I couldn’t remember what meant what. But hotel made more sense. However, I did understand the bald man who said Maxim had a weakness for beautiful women. And I also understood them saying something about killing, though I couldn’t distinguish what they’d said specifically. Still, it was enough to persuade me to seek out Maxim ASAP.

That evening, I left for the bar earlier than usual, but instead of starting my shift immediately, I slipped upstairs to Maxim’s room. Fortunately, I helped out around the hotel enough to know how to check his room number.

I raised my hand to knock on the door, but it flew open, a large man standing in the entryway.

“Can I help you?” he asked in a thick Russian accent. His muscles bulged out like the Michelin man, and his stance held an intimidation that led me to assume he was Maxim’s bodyguard. He stood at a height that was probably taller than Maxim—who was already incredibly tall—and had a scowl on his face.

“Uh, hello,” I said, using my cheeriest voice and extending a hand to shake. He stared at it with disgust, so I retreated my hand. “My name is Crissy, I work at the bar downstairs. I was hoping to speak with Maxim for a moment? It’s urgent.”

The man scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Sure it is. Maxim isn’t here, and you need to leave him alone. Find someone else to flirt with.”

Before I could even rebut his statement, he slammed the door in my face, leaving me to pick up the pieces of my bruised ego.Someone else to flirt with? Ouch!As if that was why I was there…

I waited for Maxim outside his room for as long as I could. But eventually, I had to get to work, so I left.

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