Igor’s eyes narrow.
For many years, I protected my younger brother in any way I could. I stepped up so he didn’t have to, until that became the default. I was trying to give Maksim a chance at a more normal childhood, and instead, I’m worried I’m at fault for his lazy demeanor as an adult. My initiative is part of why I’m my father’s favorite and one of the reasons Aleksandr resents me.
The office door opens. Aleksandr strides inside. He greets Igor and ignores me, taking a seat in the armchair.
“How is Ilya?” I ask.
“He is fine.”
I know better than to ask about Victoria. Allowing tensions to fester might be a questionable choice under most circumstances, but it’s the only strategy that works well with Aleksandr. Nothing I say will make his wife requesting me sting less. I simply have to wait until my brother recalls we are, in fact, blood. Or until he needs a favor. My guess is, the latter will happen first.
Maksim slinks inside last, the cloying scents of smoke and liquor following like a cheap cologne.
“There was an incident in Rotterdam,” Igor states. “A shipment was stolen.”
Maksim sighs like this is a waste of his precious time.
I wait for Igor to chastise him. He doesn’t. He’s silent, staring at me. Waiting for my response.
Unbidden, my mother’s words echo in my head.“Igor listens to you.”
I resent my brothers’ obvious vices for repeatedly positioning me as the voice of reason. Ironically, I think they resent me for the same reason. I say nothing, wishing I’d run a few more miles. Restlessness is already sneaking back in; I have to battle the urge to tap my fingers on the shelves.
“How much?” is Aleksandr’s first question. Predictably concerned with the bottom line and how much might be missing from his pocket.
Igor waves his cigar dismissively. “A few million.”
“Do we have names?”
“Not yet. But they didn’t bother wearing masks, so it won’t be difficult. Misha is working on it.”
“Do the names really matter?” Maksim drawls.
Igor stares at Maksim for a few seconds, as though he is weighing a reply.
Aleksandr speaks first. “We should send a few men to investigate. In case they?—”
“I’ll go with a team.”
Three sets of surprised eyes land on me.
“We should contact Andrea,” I add. “Find out what he knows.”
The Italians are most likely involved in some way. There aren’t many families with the access or resources to impact our shipments.
Aleksandr frowns. “That could compromise him. It took a year to?—”
“I know how long it took to integrate him. I was the one who oversaw everything while half of Russia was sucking your cock.”
My brother vaults upright, scowling. “You?—”
“Sit, Aleksandr,” Igor snaps.
He’s smiling, which makes the command more menacing. He enjoys when Aleksandr and I clash; he has some perverted pride in seeing us fight. I’m never the instigator, so he’s likely appreciating this even more.
“They could discover Andrea any day,” I state. “At least we’ll get useful information out of him first.”
Aleksandr sneers, “Useful information about a small shipment? At least get him killed for more money.”
