Page 64 of The Beast of Moscow

That wasn’t the answer Igor had been looking for, and his responding silence gave it away. Oh, well.

Vaslav came to stand in front of the white piano with the gold trim that faced the bay windows. With the heavy curtains around it, he doubted someone from the outside could see too far in, and he felt safe enough standing beyond the stream of light cutting through the middle where the fabric was pulled open by rope with tasseled ends.

Gold and yellow everywhere.

He made the place more bearable by shutting every curtain or blind there was and turning off all the lights. Vera hadn’t seemed to mind and used the lamps in any given corner when needed.

“The apartment is very ... bright,” Vaslav settled on saying. That felt as good as anything. “Otherwise, it serves its purpose. Couldn’t say I would enjoy it as much if the Frenchman was here, too. One other person breathing in the room next to me is enough, you know?”

“Otva’li,” Igor cursed.

“Excuse me?”

“Not you—the damn dog. He knows when you’re not around, Vas. He’s torn up the front lawn again; there’s holes everywhere! You know Mira about broke her fucking ankle last night using the water hose?”

Vaslav sighed and scrubbed a hand over his scarred cheek that had been twitching on and off for the better part of the afternoon. His fingernails tugged into the hard scar tissue, and the nip of pain it caused stopped the tic almost instantly. There wasn’t very damn much he could do about Marrow, so to Igor, he asked, “Was there anything in the papers today?”

“Only a small column that a body had been found.”

He nodded absentmindedly to himself, satisfied with that for now. “Make sure you have a paper for me tomorrow when I step off the jet—I better see Nico’s name in print.”

“They won’t hold it back for too long, boss.”

“Mmm.”

His grunt went unanswered.

“Everything is good on my end,” Igor said after a quiet moment had passed. “I’ll send the Italian the meeting details at the time you specified, and the car will be at the apartment tomorrow at ten. Your longest wait is gonna be on the tarmac waiting for clearance.”

Yeah, it always was.

“Right, well, you can tell my damn dog I’ll be home tomorrow.”

Igor barked out a laugh. “He barely comes out of the forest when he’s in a mood, the stupid fuck. He just howls and howls. The politsiya did a drive through of the area this morning ... the bastards. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. You’ve got to let me get someone on this property to clean a few things up, and get it ready for the winter before it’s too late.”

They had time.

And who cared about a few holes in the fucking lawn?

Vaslav scowled at the mention of police being near his home. “Knock on some doors, no?”

Someone had called to complain, after all. They wouldn’t make the mistake a second time.

“I’ll deal with the damn neighbors.”

Igor always did.

Too bad someone hadn’t been there to deal with the nosy bastards on the day they called the police to say he was beating a man to death. Would have saved him a lot of time in prison.

“Vas,” came a loud call in his ear.

Blinking out of his thoughts, he realized when he looked down at the tips of his leather loafers, that he’d been standing there long enough for the sunshine to move a bit over his shoes. “What, Igor?”

“You didn’t hear me.”

“Things on my mind,” he returned in a murmur, knowing the man wouldn’t question it.

Partly.