Page 83 of Fractured Ties

Understanding dawned in Konstantin’s eyes. “You’re saying we have someone else after the Boykovs, besides the Albanians.”

Kolya nodded. “Da.”

“When did you know that?”

“I suspected it at the clinic when we were talking,” Kolya replied, “but I didn’t think for sure until about a half hour ago.”

Konstantin cleared his throat, and glanced away. “And you didn’t think to tell Vadim that he has someone else to worry about?”

“No.”

“Kolya—”

“Two issues are one too many for Vadim,” Kolya said, his grip on Sumerki tightening a bit. “And if he can get rid of one issue by simply handing Maya over, even if it will make him look a bit weaker to another organization so that his focus can be on the unknown coming at him from behind, then he will do that. I can’t let him do that.”

“That’s a dangerous game to play.”

“I’m aware.”

Konstantin’s gaze darted back to his brother. “You’ve really got something going on with that girl, no?”

Kolya shrugged. “Something.”

“Yeah, I can tell by the mess your back is. You should have kept your shirt on—those scratches look like they sting, Kolya.”

“Mind your own.”

He said it like a warning.

He still smirked, though.

Konstantin sighed. “Hey, at least one of us got to be buried in pussy tonight, no? That’s worth something.”

Kolya chuckled dryly. “You’ve still got time to go out and find yourself something to keep your interest for a few hours.”

His brother made a noise in the back of his throat and glanced at the dead body in the corner. “Not tonight—you gave me something to consider. Not even pussy is going to make me forget that.”

“Now, that’s a shame.”

“Tell me about it.”

10.

“BRAND HER properly.”

Kolya grabbed the hot water valve and turned it higher. The temperature of the water stung as it beat against his skin, but he didn’t care. It was the only thing he could think to do in order to get out of his fucking head, and away from those words of his father.

A call from Vadim first thing in the morning was never a good thing. It typically meant his father wanted or needed something, and Kolya was highest on Vadim’s shit list so the task was delegated to him.

This time, there was no task.

Just an order.

A simple demand.

Brand her.

Maya, he meant.