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I smiled, pushed his head back, and launched forward, headbutting him hard enough to hear a sick crunch. I let him go.
“You sick fuck! You broke my fucking nose!” He fell to his face, and I rose to my feet.
“You should be grateful that I’m not putting holes in your head, you fucking piece of shit.” I faced Cian. “Now, I need to know, before I lose my fucking mind, what the fuck is all of this? Where is Benjamin?”
“Hiding?” He shrugged and kicked a twig. “How the fuck am I supposed to know?”
My fingers hovered over the trigger. “Don’t mess with me, Cian. I’m not in the mood.”
Sticking his hands in his pockets, he cleared his throat. “He called. Told us he could help; he knew a way to help us get you. At the time, I wanted that more than anything else. So, I paid him, and we had a deal.”
I massaged the spot between my eyes and dropped the gun by my side. I didn’t need another second to figure things out. I paid Benjamin too; we had a similar deal to destroy them.
“He took money from us both, for the same reason,” I said. “It makes sense now; this was his plan; to get us here, have us kill each other, and then...”
“Run things,” Cian added, catching up.
“He’s trying to get rid of us to get himself to the fucking top.”
“Bastard,” the older man cursed. “He’s a fucking snake.”
“Must have been what Ava was trying to tell me about him,” Declan said to Cian, and gave me a dirty glare. Neither of us had noticed him get back up to his feet. I had to give him credit; he was much stronger than the noodle I pegged him to be. “She called earlier today but didn’t get to finish up what she was saying., and I wonder why.”
An uncomfortable feeling crawled up my chest and squeezed. It wasn’t often that I felt regret about things. But this time, I did. She’d tried to tell me about Hawk, but I didn’t listen.
“Any brilliant ideas, son-in-law? You are the man with the gun, aren’t you? Take the lead.” Cian quirked a brow and Declan kept the dirty look on his dirty face like he’d rather eat the mud he rolled in than listen to anything I had to say.
I returned my gun between my belt and folded my arms across my chest. “I have a few that starts with ‘finding him’ and ends with ‘killing the fucking bastard.’”
The older man’s eyes twinkled dangerously, and he smiled. “Sounds like the best plan I’ve ever heard.”
Chapter 20 - Ava
“Sasha!”
I hit the door intending to beat it down and screamed again. “Sasha!”
No one answered, even if the shadows dancing between the cracks showed sufficient proof that the middle-aged caretaker stood right outside the door, gossiping with Ivan. I heard their hushed voices and listened in when they said something about the Boss’s wife possibly being a nutcase. They must not have liked me very much and it stung a little after hearing that. Still, I remained undeterred.
Sucking in a deep breath, I went again. My throat burned and my voice came out with cracks, but I wasn’t going to give up. “Sasha! Open up this door, right now!”
The hushed whispers stopped, I waited, and the locks turned to reveal a displeased real-life version of The Principal in a movie, whose title I did not recall at the moment. Her blonde hair sat in a sleek bun atop her head, and unlike Arielle, Sasha wore low pumps and a drab blouse on a long, straight black skirt. I missed Arielle and her dull pinafore.
“You are making an awful noise, Madam.” Before Ms. Sasha Kalashnikov, I’d have never known what it felt like to be a child in middle school scolded by a Russian headmistress.
“Please,” I wore my best puppy face. “I need a phone. I really have to talk to Viktor. Even if it’s just once. I swear, I won’t tell on you, Sasha. But this... this is important. It’s urgent. He might be in trouble. His life is in danger.”
It wasn’t surprising when she didn’t even flinch at the mention of danger. For crying out loud, the Boss slept with a gun under his pillow. The entire household must have been used to the violence and chaos associated with Viktor Voronin-Varkov by now. Her frown deepened and the grim lines on her lips formed into a scowl, almost as if she disproved of me calling her boss by his name.
“The boss says give her food, water, and fruits. ‘She likes grapes and strawberries.’ But no phone. He says everything else but no phone for you, Madam. So, stay put. If you hammer on the door again, I vill tell the boss.”
For a minute, I was stunned by his instructions. He was mad at me but still left orders to make me comfortable. Why did he do that?
I realized Sasha had waited expectantly for me to say something else—maybe something she’d have the pleasure of saying “no” to. But my jaw stayed slack and before I got another word out, she slammed the door shut and inserted the key into the lock. With the way she carried out her job seriously, I might have suggested giving her a raise, if she didn’t have me locked up.
Turning around with a huff, I glanced at the analog clock hanging on the wall beside the dressing mirror. The sun had gone down two hours ago, and still, there was no word from him. Anxiety racked and dug its nails into my chest with every passing minute. I released a deep groan and hit the door as hard as I could. Anything to vent the pent-up frustration.
I heard a hiss and a thick Russian curse outside the door, but I ignored it.
