Page 53 of Lord of Justice

"I see…" He's utterly still, watching me. I'll bet this is how he gets people to crack on the witness stand. Well, that and his incessant tapping. "There will never be a way to make it right for you, Rose, and Violet," he says, standing up and walking toward me.

"I've seen hundreds of cases, no, thousands of cases of women who've been brutalized and tormented like you were. There is never enough punishment to rain down on the men who cause it. But based on your tone and how you talk, I can see that it doesn't seem to matter to you in the same way any longer."

"It doesn't," I shrug. "I'm married. There's no more tag teaming. That would be disrespectful." Then, I can't resist adding, "No matterhowthis marriage started."

He makes a tiny, almost imperceptible movement and I wonder if my words hit him.

"There are better ways to dispense justice." There’s a glow in his eyes, something red and orange like an explosion in the dark depths. It glitters malevolently for a moment and I catch my breath before he blinks and his gaze is smooth and impervious again.

"Do you want to take a shower?" He runs his hand over the back of my hair and I involuntarily lean into it for a moment. "Chef Tess was going to serve us something special tonight, I told her to leave it in the fridge and we'd heat it up later."

"Sure." There are tears on my face, when did that happen? "Is there dessert?"

Andrey crouches gracefully in front of me, cupping my cheek with his big, warm hand.

"For you, wife? There isalwaysdessert."

Chapter Twenty-Five

In which it’s another dark night and past time for a certain dark deed.

Andrey…

Iris telling me her story seems to have lanced a deep, emotional wound. Not completely. That may never go away. But she feels lighter in some way, and she laughs during dinner when I tell her about one of our clients who came in, essentially buried in dogs. Eight vile Chihuahuas who would yap and howl during our meetings. Because she was Maksim's and my father's great aunt, we couldn't fire her.

"It didn't matter how many lint rollers I used. I'd always come home covered in dog hair." My mouth twists, recalling my cleaner's wounded expression. "Mr. Charles on 57th Street is a master at getting blood and other unmentionables out of my suits. He loves them, I suspect, even more than I do. His look of horror when I would bring a fur-covered jacket in… I believe he felt personally violated."

"That's so epic. Death by dog hair," she slaps the table, still giggling. "Poor Mr. Charles." We talked through the moussaka course, followed by the shrimp saganaki. Iris is lovingly nibbling her way around the baklava when she says, "There’s nothing better than when Chef Tess goes on her round the world sprees. This is better than almost anything I ate in Athens."

"I must go to a meeting tonight, darling. I can’t get out of it." Her face falls before she musters up a smile.

"No one expects a Russian Bratva to keep 9 to 5 hours," she says. "I understand. There's a book for next fall's Core Strategy and Omnichannel Marketing class that I really need to finish before I take it. I’ll keep busy."

Rising, I take my plate and hers to the sink as she gathers up the serving dishes. The domestic moment is doing nothing to stop the fury cycling through me. A text from Trofim before dinner turned the food to ash in my mouth.

Trofim: Another two girls and a boy were found dead down by the Red Hook docks. Same kill signature as the last two discoveries.

Andrey: I've waited too long to handle Marshall. He's out on parole and the fucking detectives didn't notify us?

Trofim: He was bailed out yesterday by someone with deep pockets.

Andrey: Pull everything Kolya can find on his location. He might head back to that shit heap he owns in Parkchester. Find me something.

Our hacker Kolya's brilliance pays off and I have a location by the time we're cleaning up the dinner debris.

Kolya: This one is harder, boss. His building has new fortifications and there's at least twenty guards. Here's his approximate location.

He sends me old building plans of the rat's nest Marshall is squatting in, circling the entryways and exits and the tower where the soon to be horribly dead Marshall should be. He loves looking down on the filthy, broken streets, surveying them like a king in his castle.

I'm going to hang his intestines up like Christmas lights.

Iris is waiting for me by the elevator. She's never come to say goodbye before. "Good luck tonight. Try not to murder any of your cousins."

Thinking about Marshall, I can at least answer her honestly. "No cousins. I promise, wife."

Kissing her lush mouth is always a destination ofits own, not just something to do on my way to another part of her. Iris wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me, pushing her breasts into my abdomen. When I squeeze her ass, she goes up on tiptoe, moaning into my mouth while I suck on her tongue.

That flame of rage in me is building, though. After a couple of savage prods from it, I pull away reluctantly from mymalen'kiy tsvetok.