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“Well hello to you too, sunshine. No ‘how are you? Thank you for tracing her after years of trying.’ I’m doing fine by the way; just got my dick sucked by a ballet dancer. You don’t even want to know how flexible the guy was?”
“Lee,” I bark out, “Can you do it or what? I’m sending you her cloned phone info.”
“Yeah, I can do it, sweetheart. So, still in stalker mode I see. Hey, and I guess she didn’t shoot your ass if we’re talking.” He laughs while I stalk back to the room, cursing under my breath because I let her go in front of me. Now she’s definitely going to shoot me in the fucking dick.
“Got it, so what the hell am I looking for? Hey, cute kid. Is he hers?”
I roll my eyes. I like Vasily, he’s my best friend. Hell, some people call it love, if I could be capable of loving someone. The guy is always happy. I have no idea why after what happened to him. Growing up in poverty in Russia before he came to school in Switzerland with me changed him for sure. The guy can flip his mood switch in a second. I once saw him kill a guy in the middle of a Russian strip club, safe to say he likes killing as much as I do.
“Hold up, suka,” he says. “You know he kind of looks like you did when we were kids in Switzerland.”
“He’s my son, Lee.”
“Sheesh,” I hear on the other end. “I knew you had ice in your veins but damn, dude. Fuck, how did I miss that?” he says, his Russian accent thick, and I grit my teeth. “Wow, you really knocked her up back then?”
I kick a pebble with my Italian shoes costing more than this dump, and light a fucking cigarette. When the nicotine hits my lungs, I feel sort of better.
“She got an email from me saying I was going to kill her.”
“Did you send her that? Sally, Sally, my love, that’s not very nice. I thought you wanted to keep her?” he asks, sounding serious, typing along. “Damn, her brother Billy still looks hot. Is he single? Can you ask her?”
“No, I’m not going to ask her if you can fuck her brother. And I am keeping her, and no, I didn’t want to kill her.” I let out a barrage of Russian swearwords and he laughs.
“I’m kidding, let me check. Thirteen years ago,” he stops talking, and I hear his fingers clicking on a keyboard. Fucker has a whole dungeon filled with computers from the last decade, and another supercomputer down another level at our New York office. “This is weird.”
“What is it? I haven’t got all day.”
“Dude, you’re asking me to track an email after ten years. Wait, this is—”
“What? The suspense is killing me,” I chuckle, taking another drag from my cigarette. I left her on her own too long. What if she shoots my ass or runs a knife through my chest? At least she would feel something. My dick gets hard thinking about it. Maybe I can ask her to press the blade to my neck when I fuck her. If I ever screw her again, judging by the way she looked at me, no. But I still want her after all these years. She’s beautiful. I adjust my throbbing cock through my slacks, wondering if she still likes to fuck hard. I haven’t been with anyone since her. I smirk, shaking my head, probably the only thing that stuck from the seven sins.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but after rerouting and numerous attempts and firewalls…”
“English please,” I groan, looking at the sky.
“The email came from an Interpol server.”
“Come again?” I only know one fucker who could put the knife in my back only meant for her. “It was Derick, wasn’t it?”
“Yup, asshole had it in for you from the start at boarding school. What are you going to do? If you kill him, make a video so I can watch,” he says all giddy. My phone pings, indicating he’s sent the proof. “Are you going to tell her?”
I lean against the motel door and stamp my cig out. “No, not yet. First I have to kill the son of a bitch for what he did.”
“You know she used to date him, I think, judging by the other emails here. Damn, that guy is good at lying,” he says sounding angry. “I’m taking the first flight out with the boys.”
“He’s fucking dead. I’m going to put the son of a bitch in cement,” I growl. “Did they fuck?”
“I’m sorry, dude, I think so, don’t know for sure though.” I hit the wood with my fist making the door rattle, not caring if I scare her one bit. The fucker planned this, he orchestrated it all to get back at me for taking the front seat of our operation.
“He looked me straight in the eye when I asked him if he had any leads on her and said no. Meanwhile he was fucking her to get back at me.”
“In Paris,” Vasily adds, the knife digging deeper in my back.
I growl. “He’s dead.”
“Good, I don’t like him anyway—he was ordering hits for all the wrong reasons,” Lee says typing away. “We still have to get the green light to go after him.”
“Leave that to me.” I walk to her car and lean against the hood. “Keep me posted if you find more dirt on him.”
