Page 55 of Lord of Justice

But not yet.

Whoever bailed him out had no problem paying the five hundred-thousand-dollar bail. He's twitching, his bloodshot eyes darting to the security monitor. It shows me all the guards are still downstairs.

"No, really," I say, nauseated that I'm having a conversation with this troglodyte. “You snagged a big fish, who is it?"

Now his hand is up, gun pointed straight at me and his finger headed for the trigger. "I think I'll just kill you instead," he laughs, a little excited,like a child on Christmas morning. My knife is out of the sheath and buried in his gun hand before he can finish his sentence. He screeches and drops his gun. It doesn't go off because the fuckhead left the safety on.

It takes a second to duct tape his mouth shut. When I pull out my KA-BAR his eyes widen, terrified, and he shakes his hand frantically. I draw long, vertical cuts on his arms and over his stomach, listening to his wails behind the tape.

"I'm going to take this tape off now," I'm leaning close and his stench of body odor and expensive but bad cologne hits me. "When I do, you're going to tell me the name of your new sponsor. If you hesitate, my first move will be cutting off your dick.” He whimpers, tears in his eyes. "The second will be gouging out your eyes. It won't kill you, but you’ll wish it had. Are you ready to talk?"

Marshall is nodding, sweat flying from his face, and I put my hand under his jaw, ripping off the tape. Drawing in a compulsive heave of breath, he stammers "I can't tell you. You'll kill me.She'llkill me."

She?

My knife runs slowly down his neck and over his shoulder. I have a list of suspects, men rich enough and stupid enough to do business with garbage like Marshall, but a she?

"You'll never guess," he says in a child-like cadence. "You'llneverguess but I'm gonna be her head supplier. I'm gonna rise in her organization and while she's being the good girl, I'll be the bad,badman."

I hear the scrape of a shoe, probably close to the landing on the second floor. With a muffled curse, I slap the tape back over his mouth and get to work, causing the maximum possible amount of pain in the short time I'm given.

By the time the footsteps approach his door and there's a cautious knock, Marshall is in pieces. I left his eyes open, and his severed head propped up so that will be the first thing his unfortunate guard sees. Wiping my blades on his filthy clothes, I'm back out the window as the door opens and I hear the first shout. It's an easy leap back over to the roof of the apartment building and I'm down the steps, then strolling down the alley. Making my way to the truck, I'm smiling as I hear all the shouting from Marshall's supremely useless guards.

Still covered in blood and bits and pieces of Marshall, I make my way home.

Chapter Twenty-Six

In which it is time for the darkest deed of all.

Andrey…

I should have cleaned up before I came back to the penthouse. There are a dozen places between Marshall's blood-soaked bedroom and home. Safe houses, my office at Morozov Global. Roman's sex club has dozens of discreet shower options.

Driving past them all, I don't stop until I'm in my private parking garage. I leave my gear in the car, texting Trofim.

Andrey: Clean out the company car at my place. It might need to be hosed down.

Trofim: Thank fuck it's this, Your Justice, and not following you around another law association lunch. Though I feel like you should have brought me along on this mission. You ignored my professional advice.

Andrey: I always ignore your professional advice. Behappy you're not breaking out in hives.

I pull up the security feed for the penthouse on my phone as the elevator doors open, checking for Iris's location. She's in bed. There’s a little mountain of blankets, she must have burrowed under them again.

My wife is asleep so there is no need to be careful. I pull off my boots and bloody jeans, the denim already getting stiff, and discard my boxer briefs. I leave the balaclava up over the lower half of my face. I'm not ready yet to let go of the night. Naked, I roll my head, stretching my arms out until the joints creak as I walk to the windows. The snarling wolf tattoo on my chest throbs, the lines of Cyrillic script on my arms are twisting like snakes under my skin. Another line will be tattooed next to them tomorrow.

It's the same sound as before, in that alley outside Norris's club. A horrified inhalation of breath, a strangled sound that's holding back a scream.

Iris is standing in the living room. She must have fallen asleep on the couch instead of under that little pile of blankets on our bed. Her figure is dark against the lights shining in the wall of windows from the city. But the low illumination from a table lamp shows her enormous eyes. Herhorror.

"You'rehim."

I know what she sees when she looks at me. A naked, 6"6 monster with an explosion of ink all over my body, my skin sprayed with blood and a couple of other things I'm not examining too closely. Eyes glittering, I take a step toward her. I should say something comforting like, "Let me explain." Or perhaps, "It's not what it looks like."

Before I can craft something, she breaks, bolting with the agility of a deer on steroids. I tear after her, down the hallway, up the staircase to the second floor. Iris pauses, panting and when I lope up the stairs after her, she shrieks, racing toward the door leading to the roof. There are so many places for her to hide up there. She fights frantically with the lock on the door as I take the stairs three at a time. So close.

"I won't tell anyone!" she screams over her shoulder. "Sp- spouses can't testify against each other, remember?" She rips the door open and tears up the next round of stairs as her words, "Just don't kill meeee…" trail behind her.

Mymalen'kiy tsvetok,it's like she doesn't know me at all.