“Here to see Igor,” I told them while looking past both to where the state-of-the-art boxing ring had been set up.
“And you are?”
“Kazimir Chertov.” Here I had no issue using my real name.
While both men were staring at us, I was already enjoying the fight. However, given the asshole twitched and made the mistake of reaching for a weapon, I responded by almost snapping his wrist. His howl of pain drew some attention from others, but not enough to interrupt Igor’s evening.
“I suggest you let your boss know I’m here. I’m not leaving.” I glared him in the eye, waiting a few additional seconds before releasing my hold.
He gasped for air, snarling as he did, but jerked around and headed directly for the powerful older man.
I’d met him once at the fight, his words of wisdom competing with my father’s and very simple and logical. Watch your back. And I’d taken his advice.
“I see you haven’t lost your touch,” Kirill said. “I was afraid you’d lost too much muscle mass.”
“It’s amazing what you can do without a single piece of equipment.” We were quickly motioned to come over, the two stunning women sitting with Igor scampering off.
He didn’t look at either one of us until after I’d placed the gifts in front of him.
A grin slid across the old man’s face like a kid on Christmas morning. My guess was rarely did anyone honor the old customs.
He stood, his smile wide. “Kazimir.” I was surprised when he pulled me into a bear hug, the gesture reserved for family only. “You are a sight for sore eyes. I am very glad to see you alive and looking damn good for someone who died three years ago.” He didn’t acknowledge Kirill and I didn’t offer, although in going through my grandfather, Kirill had been given a carte blanche invitation.
I’d been lucky my grandfather had experienced a few lucid days, using his old connection with Igor.
The fact Igor pointed to the two seats was the only indication needed that my commander was welcome.
“I understand I have you to thank for that,” I offered.
He was already motioning for a waitress, holding up three fingers. “Your grandfather was quite adamant if there was any chance you were alive, I wouldn’t be forgiven until we were certain.” His attention was drawn back to the fight, the two matched more evenly than the one I’d seen years before.
They were both bloody as hell, taking low blow shots that would be disqualified in any legitimate club or gym.
“My grandfather is a tough man,” I said out of respect. “From what I understand, so are you.”
The glasses were brought, the vodka opened, and the liquid poured. He lifted his glass. “You should have seen me in my youth. Ask your grandfather how he got that scar under his eye.Za zhizn’—i za radost’ ot togo, chto otnimayesh’ posledniy vzdokh u drugikh.”
The toast was appropriate.
To life and the joy in taking the last breath from others.
Kirill grinned and we all tossed the shot.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll enjoy a cigar later. My wife gets very upset if she smells smoke. She said it kills our sex life.” He winked and once again turned his attention to the fight.
There were at least a hundred men screaming at one boxer or another, money in their hands. The old system of betting and if I had to guess, I’d say every one of them had already paid a huge entrance fee.
“Your imprisonment was meant as a warning, much like the fight you are witnessing.” Igor made the statement casually but with enough emphasis it was as if he knew for certain the circumstances surrounding my imprisonment.
“Any idea from whom?”
A sharp snapping sound floated above the din of the crowd and with a quick glance, it was apparent one opponent’s arm had been broken several inches above the wrist, yet he continued to fight.
He poured himself another shot. “My time and that of every thief in the old caste system is all but over, Kazimir. Your father, as so many his age did, moved away from the traditional code. From what I’ve seen, there is very little honor in our world any longer. You can see that in the young Bratva soldiers of today. The fucking men who think with their dicks, not their pea-sized brains. Plus, there is more strength in the Cosa Nostra and the Irish than before. It has become difficult to keep them in their place. Greed is a powerful weapon, integrity and honor a thing of the past.”
I remained quiet, learning a long time before a discussion was finished when I was told it was. His knowledge was worth its weight in gold.
“You were considered old guard, very much like your grandfather. As if the honor of being avory v zakoneskipped a generation. Your advancement to Pakhan struck fear in the hearts of hundreds of people. You were thought of as a force to be reckoned with. There are any number of possibilities about who ordered your imprisonment and subsequent death. You should know there are men who do not believe you are dead,but prepared to rise again.” Igor chuckled before tossing back another glass.
