Page 96 of Filthy Lies


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Men roughly grabbed her and dragged her arms behind her back, needing two for a one-man job because this was Star, and I watched as they cuffed her.

“Do you go out of your way to be difficult?” I grumbled, but when she made a slight moue as they jerked her shoulder and locked her in place, I snarled, “You’re hurting her.”

That was when I saw the guard’s temple was discolored…

Using his distraction against him, I seized his hand and rolled it backward, not stopping until the bone in his wrist snapped and he was yowling.

“You learned Krav Maga,” Star stated, her eyes wide in surprise and…

Now wasn’t the time to enjoy her appreciation.

Ignoring her, I grated out at the other guard, “You do not hurt her.” Then, to Kuznetsov, I demanded, “Get them to back the fuck down.”

Though he was breathing hard through the pain, Kuznetsovdidgroan something at them in that dialect he’d used with Edgar, which was when the guard cradling his wrist traipsed off with a glower at me, while the other loosened her cuffs and she relaxed some.

Now that she was free, I shot her a disapproving glance. “He’s old, Star. That’ll take ages to heal.”

Her sniff could only be described as dismissive. “He locked me in a bedroom like I was thirteen, Conor—”

“Youweretrying to kill him,” I countered.

“I’ve stopped trying. I won’t kill you,” she shouted over her grandfather’s wails as he cupped his bleeding hand to his chest. “But you turned my mother, the only person who never betrayed me, into a liar. That required punishment.”

Kuznetsov spat something at her in that dialect I couldn’t understand again, but Star surprised me by retorting, “If you thought I wouldn’t try anything, you’re an idiot and that means you’re too much of a moron to be able to help me as you promised Conor.”

At her words, Kuznetsov sagged into his chair, and, out of nowhere, a medic rushed in, an old-fashioned doctor’s bag in her hand.

Used to chaos around the table, I carried on finishing my soup, watching as a couple men popped up from out of nowhere, bringing what appeared to be a type of mobile scanner of some variation.

Within a few moments, the healer was peering at Star with surprise then down at her boss. “She missed every joint, artery, and nerve.”

Star’s smirk was cocky enough that I rolled my eyes. “Only you,” I muttered under my breath.

Kuznetsov hissed at the doctor who, right at the dinner table, sewed him up, cleaned the wounds, then bandaged his hand. She dosed him with what I assumed were pain pills and antibiotics, then the medical team darted away as swiftly as they’d rushed in.

“Granddaughter, you are a fool,” Kuznetsov snarled. His anger fired him up but he remained slouched and slumped over in his chair.

“You can’t expect deadly weapons not to fulfill their purpose,” I defended, using his own words against him. “Star usually doesn’t say anything she doesn’t mean. She won’t attack you again.”

“You expect me to believe that? I brought you here to calm her down—”

“Hey,” I argued. “I’m many things but I’m not human Valium. Star is Star. You don’t like what she turned into, well, hell, I figure you could have helped out along the way instead of living in your own bat cave on the Adriatic.”

Kuznetsov spat in that dialect again, but Star hitched a shoulder. “He’s right.”

“I helped where I could,” he grated out.

“Sounds like you were really helping her when she sought emancipation from a father who was fully jacked up on heroin for days at a time and put her in unsafe situations,” I sniped.

Still cradling his now-bandaged hand, Kuznetsov growled something at the guard stationed behind Star and, a moment later, she was released from her cuffs.

She curled her fingers inward, stretching her wrists back and forth and rubbing the flesh where the restraints had been too tight and had bitten into her skin.

Annoyed at the sight, I grumbled, “Fine way to treat your granddaughter.”

Before he could answer, she reached up and rubbed the balls of her shoulders, rotating them carefully as she mocked, “I’m not a granddaughter to him. I’m a tool.”

“That’s not true,” was Kuznetsov’s retort.

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