Page 77 of Lilies from Hell

“Sure, and we’ll send the merchandise in coffins,” Sergei mutters sarcastically behind him. “What am I supposed to do with this?” he asks, holding a pale head with open eyes up by the hair. Parts of his face are bruised and battered from the blows. Some muscle tendons are hanging from what should have been his neck, dripping fresh blood.

“We can play a game of soccer while they finish burying the body,” Denis offers with a smirk and a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

“Put it in the trunk. I’ll take care of that later,” I say, looking at the head with a look of disgust. It wouldn’t even be good for my collection, so maybe I’d give the remains to my dog or the crocodiles when I get back home.

“How much do you think this is worth on the market?” Denis asks curiously, showing me the corpse’s hand, where there was a ring.

I narrow my eyes at him and shook my head, choosing to ignore his question.

“Are you really planning to sell that?” Sergei asks behind him with a grimace.

“Would you rather we bury it? That would be a waste,” he says to himself and frowns. Thinking about something. “I’d better give it to my grandma. I haven’t seen her in a long time,” he finally resolves before pulling the ring off with difficulty, putting it in his pants pocket, and throwing his hand into the hole that’s still filling with dirt.

I head to the main living room as soon as I step in the house. I dodge Polina, who opens her mouth to say something. Lately I’m not interested in talking to her or seeing her more than necessary.

I press my lips into a thin line, discovering a couple of our partners in the living room.

“They’ve screwed up the delivery again,” says one of them. I let out an exasperated sigh and light a cigarette I place between my lips.

“I want you to reinforce all fronts and put more people on finding the damn snitch. I won’t allow another failure,” I murmur exhaling smoke with a stern look.

Everyone leaves after discussing which points we have to reinforce and which cops we will have to bribe for information this time. My father seems to be the only one that doesn’t know when to leave.

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that Ray got off scot-free and everything got screwed up for us at the last minute?”

“Why should I find it suspicious?” I ask, raising both eyebrows.

“His daughter was also with him.”

“Instead of worrying about what she does, you should be looking for the damn traitor. You’re wasting your time,” I retort on the verge of losing my patience.

He had been watching her after our last conversation, but he wouldn’t dare do anything to her. Perhaps for fear of a war he didn’t want to start or for the sake of staying alive. I know sooner or later he’ll give free rein to his stupidity and make a mistake.

“Watch your back around that girl. All women are whores who are only good for spreading their legs and reproducing. I doubt she’ll be the exception.”

I take a step toward him, feeling my muscles tense. I stop myself from going any further when the gun his bodyguard is holding points at my head.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” I spit through clenched teeth before leaving and slamming the door shut.

I stand in my bedroom patting my pants pocket, wanting to grab my cell phone and check the cameras. I need to know where she is and if she’s okay. When I can’t find it my heart skips a beat as I consider the possibility that I might have left it where we buried the damn Frenchman. It wouldn’t be a problem if I didn’t have all the apps and cameras on it. Fuck.

26

A noise makes me open my eyes and sit up abruptly in bed. My breathing is erratic as I try to make out the objects in the room, searching for whatever has caught my attention. When I hear a growl, all my senses are immediately alerted. I pull myself away from the sheets to turn on the lamp on the bedside table.

“Who’s there?” I ask, grabbing the scissors I keep under my pillow.

I glance around the bedroom until my eyes fall on a dark figure next to the big window. When he looks up, revealing those blue eyes that I quickly recognize, I gasp.

“Alek?” I cry out in a muffled scream before rushing over to where he is. As I get closer, I immediately notice that he is covering his right side with his hand. “Are you okay? What happened to you?” I whisper when I see the amount of blood coming from there. He barely moves his head to nod. I help him sit down on the sofa, afraid of hurting him further. “Stay here. I’ll go get a first aid kit.” Before I can take any action, he grabs my wrist and pulls me toward him until I am sitting on his lap.

“I’m fine. Just a few stitches came out,” he says in a hoarse voice, his face hidden in the crook of my neck.

“Stitches? What happened to you?” I ask in a choked voice. My eyes move uneasily over his T-shirt.

“I had to leave town for a few hours and I couldn’t text you back.” When I lift his shirt a little, my eyes open in horror, seeing some loose threads on his side and the open wound with blood coming out of it. “I’m sorry about that. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” His words make no sense to me right now.

He’s bleeding to death in my room, and all he cares about is apologizing to me for not replying to a message I sent him a few hours ago.