Page 82 of The Breath Before Forever

Not a blind in sight.

Every tall window, covering the floor to ceiling from one side of the conference room to the other, was open and illuminated to show the men gathered inside. Most sat around the long table meant for business associates and files, paperwork and laptops. Certainly not the bags and stacks of dirty money piled in the center of the table.

Vaslav scanned some of the faces.

A few he knew.

Some, he’d even sat down with over the years and enjoyed a meal or otherwise. All had paid him millions upon millions of dollars to remain under his good graces and protection. And more importantly, he trusted none of them.

Not a single captain in his bratva could call themselves his friend, and Igor would do well to follow Vaslav’s beaten path in that regard. The less friends a man had in an organization like theirs, the better prepared he was to deal with any and all situations.

Feelings rarely got in the way.

More interesting were the few men who had gathered closer to the head of the conference table. Their hands waved as wildly as their animated discussion that didn’t seem entirely friendly. No doubt, discussing the situation at hand.

“All they’re missing is their boss,” Vaslav said.

Igor didn’t respond to the comment.

A half hour ago, Igor should have walked inside that building. According to the information the men waiting across the way were concerned, their boss was a no-show, in hiding, owed money they could probably benefit from keeping, and now they had time to talk about it.

Again.

If they hadn’t already discussed the state of their organization and boss above them, they wouldn’t feel so comfortable to freely do so at the moment. Perhaps not all of them were bad seeds. Maybe only a few needed to go. Any would serve to teach the lesson Igor and Vaslav had planned tonight.

Like fish in a barrel, all they had to do was pick.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

“I’m going to call in a couple of favors on some old friends,” Igor informed. “I had a decent offer from Jersey.”

Vaslav dropped the binoculars to glance down at his friend in the chair who winced as he shifted in his seat. “Mind the kick in that gun, yeah? It’ll hurt your back ramming into that chair.”

Igor didn’t act like he heard Vaslav’s warning.

Pride truly was a bitch.

“I think it’ll be better to bring in people from the outside—even if they’re loyal to a different man, at least decent money will keep them on task until I settle into this fucking seat,” Igor muttered.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Vaslav conceded. “You know how I feel about the Americans, though.”

“It’s Jersey. Adrik—”

“Are we shooting or talking?” Vaslav interrupted.

Igor dead stared the building across the way while he balanced the rifle across his knees. “I can’t wait until Vera gets back in the country, and I won’t have to see your face but for once a fucking month. You’re a lot more irritating to deal with when my entire back feels like it’s still on fire, Vaslav.”

That made Vaslav grin.

Little did Igor know ...

“She’s already home. Arrived this afternoon.”

Vaslav would have liked to be in Dubna to greet his wife and start making up for that time they spent apart when she should have been enjoying her newly married life, but sometimes his priorities liked to shift. He figured she’d be jet lagged and sleeping well into the early morning hours, anyway, so it gave Vaslav lots of time to help Igor finish out his business before returning where he belonged.

Igor let out a chuff. “I should have known.”

That Vaslav would get his wife back on home soil the very second he knew his plans with Igor would fall into place? Perhaps, Igor should have assumed as much, but Vaslav wouldn’t fault the man for being distracted by other things.