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Nik goes quiet for a while, mulling over all of the information in his head. I sit back and let him. After a few minutes, he throws up his hands. “I want to say no, but I don’t have a better idea.”
“There’s the excitement I’m looking for,” I say sarcastically.
“Sorry, but it’s hard to drum up excitement when I know you probably already have a meeting scheduled with Dima and I’m going to be stuck here in this fucking bed.” He looks up at me, eyebrow arched. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’ve already put out feelers to meet with him?”
I nod. “I’m meeting with him in two hours. But if you had a good argument against it, I would have canceled.”
“And I’m staying here while you meet with him?”
“I wish you could come,” I tell him. “But it’s too much of a risk right now. I don’t want anyone to know that you’re?—”
“Helpless and trapped in a bed,” he snaps.
“Recovering,” I correct, clapping him on the shoulder. “You can come with me once you’re more mobile.”
Whatever that may look like.
Nik’s jaw flexes. Then he jabs a finger at me. “Stay alert and don’t trust anyone but yourself.”
“I never do.”
“I’m serious,” he adds. “Scope out the site before the meeting and make sure Dima comes alone. Don’t let yourself get cornered. You have too much to live for.”
I smile. “Don’t worry, little brother. I’ll take care of myself.”
“Un-fucking-likely,” he grumbles behind my back.
Two hours later, I’m standing in the hollowed-out remains of an old bowling alley with Dima Baranov.
I kept my promise to Nik. I showed up to the meeting an hour early, scoped out the site, and watched as Dima arrived. I made sure he came alone and unarmed.
Now, we’re standing across from each other and he’s wearing a suit and smoking a cigar like he’s a mobster from a cheesy old movie. As if the air in here isn’t toxic enough. I can hear rats scurrying in the rotting walls.
“I’ll do whatever you want so long as I’m the one who gets to kill Pavel.” He puffs a ring of smoke into the dingy air.
I expected Dima to agree to fight, but I assumed it would take some convincing. His easy acceptance feels like a red flag. I can hear Nik in the back of my head, warning me off.
“You don’t even know why I want him dead. You’re willing to make an enemy without any clue why?”
“I don’t care why you want him dead,” he explains. “I care why I want him dead. And that’s none of your business.”
"If I'm putting the safety of my men and family in your hands, it's very much my fucking business,” I snarl. “I’m not going into the trenches with you if there’s any chance Pavel will be able to lure you out.”
“I’m no traitor, Yakov Kulikov. I’ll warn you against suggesting I am.”
“And I’ll warn you against thinking that I’m desperate enough for your help that I’ll handle disrespect. We came here unarmed—as a man of your word, I assume you followed that rule—but I don’t need a weapon to show you what I’m capable of.”
Dima smiles, new respect shining in his eyes. “You’re the one here asking for my help.”
“I have the manpower to take down you and the Gustev Bratva. But as a leader who isn’t a psychopath, I don’t want to send my men into a battle they won’t come home from. I’d rather share the victory with you and keep more of my men alive. That is why you’re here. Not because I need your help, but because I’m powerful enough to ask for it.”
He blows a smoke ring, letting it disappear in the dusty air before he responds. “You want to share a victory with me? That’s good. Because that is my price. You make sure I kill Pavel myself and I’m in.”
“But you won’t tell me why?”
“What I can tell you is that I have a good reason to want every member of the Gustev Bratva to die a slow, painful death. The more of those deaths I can bring about with my own two hands, the better.” He blows another smoke ring. “I can’t tell you more than that. Family business. You get it.”
I don’t like not knowing all of the variables, but Dima is right; I do get it. It’s the reason no one outside of our house knows my brother is paralyzed from the waist down. There are some things you keep close to the vest.
