Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Even the mural doesn’t look all that great, and that’s fine by me, because it’s ours.
My phone rings as we’re finishing up. I’m tempted to ignore it, but it’s past ten at night and it’s unusual for someone to reach out now.
Oleg’s name shows up on my screen.
I mumble something about having to take this call and step out into the hallway while Natalya finishes cleaning up. “What do you want?” I answer as head into the living room where she won’t hear me talking. “I thought I was dead to you.”
“Trust me, if this weren’t important, I would never reach out to you.” Oleg’s talking fast and his voice quavers ever so slightly. I’ve never heard him this stressed before in all the years I’ve known him, and I’m instantly on guard.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s Lev. I think something’s going on with him.”
“Be more specific. And talk fast. I’m working on the nursery. You know, for your grandchild.”
Oleg practically snarls at me, but he doesn’t hang up, which means this isn’t some bullshit game.
“Lev came to see me an hour ago. He said something about handling all this business tonight. He said he was sorry about Step. At the time, I brushed it off, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of him. I’m worried.”
I go very still. That doesn’t sound like Lev at all. He’s usually glued to his phone, and he’s not normally sentimental. Not with his father, anyway.
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“I don’t fucking know. You’re the best friend. Find him for me.”
I hesitate. Obviously, I’m going to hunt down Lev tonight, no matter what. But something occurs to me.
“You need my help,” I tell him.
“Yes, boy, I need your fucking help.”
“Then you need to give me something in return.”
Dead silence. Only the soft sound of him breathing. I can imagine Oleg’s face: livid and pink with rage.
“You’re going to negotiate right now?” he whispers, sounding strangled by anger.
“Swear you won’t force Lev into that marriage. Swear it to me, right now, and I’ll go find your son. I’ll bring him home in one piece.”
“Fuck you, Alexander. You jumped-up nothing of a rotten street rat. You owe this family everything. You should be begging to help find Lev right now.”
“Promise me, Oleg. You know that if anyone can come through and make sure Lev’s not dead right now, it’s me. You’re the one that made me what I am, remember?”
He curses in Russian. He rages at me. But he finally agrees. “If you fuck up and I lose another son, I will find you, and I will kill you.”
“Fine by me.”
I hang up the phone. When I turn toward the hall, Natalya’s waiting for me.
“Was that my father?”
I nod at her. “Lev’s missing.”
“What did you just do?”
“I made him promise to keep out of Lev’s decision. He’s not very happy with me right now.”
She laughs lightly. “You would’ve gone looking for Lev no matter what. He had to have known that.”
“Probably, but he’s stressed. That’s the perfect time to take advantage of him.”
“You’re a sick man.”
“Thanks.” I walk over and kiss her quickly. “I need to go get my gun. I’ll be back later.”
Music pours from the speakers in Velvet Echo like a waterfall after a rainstorm. The dance floor is packed with sweaty body; young, beautiful people on a myriad of different drugs grind into each other. I move through the crowd like a shark.
There’s no doubt in my mind that half a dozen security cameras are watching me at this very moment.
I find him sitting at the bar. He’s at the far end with a glass of something dark in his hands. He doesn’t seem surprised when I take the stool beside him.
“You on a mission right now?” I ask.
Lev tilts his head and sips his whisky. “Let me guess. Father called you?”
“It wasn’t his finest hour.”
“I’m honestly amazed. I didn’t know the old man still had any emotions left in his dried up husk of a body.”
“I’m not sure he was being emotional. More like worried about losing his last heir.”
Lev snorts, smiling slightly, but the mask is mostly gone right now. I’m guessing he’s been here a while, and this isn’t is first drink.
“When I was thirteen, I stole fifty bucks from my dad’s dresser. Two days later, he held my hand down on that same dresser and broke my pinky finger with a hammer. He told me that if I ever stole from him again, he’d cut it off next time. And you know what? I believed him.”
I absorb that story and it doesn’t surprise me in the least. I’d seen Oleg do similar things over the years. His idea of discipline was sharp and brutal. Nothing lingered with that man. When we made mistakes, our reprimands happened on the spot, usually in the form of a black eye or bruised ribs.