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When we turn the corner, Roman shoves him against the wall. I step in front of Ivanov’s path, and his eyes go wide as the gravity of his predicament sinks in.
“We’ve been trying to get in touch with you.” I make atsking sound. “Apparently, you’re a busy man. Unless you’ve been avoiding me.”
“N-no … absolutely not,” he stammers. “Why would I do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Because you’re spreading rumors that I killed Masha Antonov.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I don’t even give him a chance. “Save your breath, Boris. Kira told me everything that happened the night of Alyona’s ball.”
“Please,” he pleads, his hands splayed. “I don’t remember anything from that night. I was drunk?—”
“You’re always drunk,” I snarl. “But you seemed very sure of my involvement in Masha’s death, so much so that Kira planned to kill me to get her revenge. Lucky for me” — I grin and hold up my finger to show off my wedding band — “she had to marry me first.”
“I’ve never even heard those rumors. You know I don’t follow gossip, Maxim.”
The words are barely out of his mouth when Roman punches him in the stomach, and he flies back against the wall, coughing and sputtering like the pussy he is.
“Maybe that will help you remember,” Roman suggests.
Boris wipes his mouth and stretches out his jaw. “What do you want me to say?”
I drag a hand down the side of my face. “The truth.”
He swallows hard, and a thin sheen of sweat covers his brow. "It was talk at a poker game," he wheezes. "I was drinking with some wannabe gangster around the time Masha was killed. One of them—I don’t remember who—had a picture from the scene where Masha was …” He makes a slashing motion across his neck. “I was curious, that's all. We all were. I don’t remember who pointed it out first, but your Zippo—the one that you wouldalways use to light cigars at the gentlemen’s club—was there at the scene.”
I clench my teeth. "A lost lighter doesn't make me her killer."
"That’s what I figured," he continues hastily. "When the whispers started, I ran into Nadya at the opera. Took her aside and told her what people were saying, about your so-called hand in it, especially considering your history with Oleg." Roman's eyes cut to me, and I shake my head. Nadya never mentioned anything. “She said it was all bullshit. That I should ignore what people were saying, to keep my nose out of it.”
“You didn’t do a very good job of that,” Roman says dryly.
“It’s the drinking.” Boris hangs his head. “It makes me … loose-lipped.”
“You’ve already sold your daughter to the biggest mudak on the planet,” Roman barks, referring to Anatoly. “Very soon, your drinking and gambling are going to get you killed.”
“I’m trying to dry out. That’s what I was doing in Poland.” That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one—one of the many things that make it impossible to take him at his word.
Doesn’t matter. We don’t need Boris to figure out who killed Masha. We will get answers, eventually. I’ll make sure of it.
Roman's phone buzzes with an incoming text. He glances at it, his expression turning grave. With a subtle tilt of his head, he signals to me that it’s important. Time to wrap this up.
“So, what do you think?” I say to Roman. “Should we kill him?”
Boris pales, his face melting into pure terror. "Kill me? But I didn’t do anything.”
Roman shrugs. "You ran your mouth. That alone is a death sentence.”
Boris squirms, spewing excuses and apologies. It’s sad, really.
With one swift move, I grab his collar, yanking him close enough to share a breath. "The only reason you're still breathing is because Liza and my wife are friends. Mess up again, and you're done." My words are a knife, slicing the last of his defiance.
Boris scrambles away, stumbling over his own feet to escape.
“That was pathetic,” Roman grumbles. “But I have good news. We've got a location on Lai King. He’s holed up in a mountain safehouse in Switzerland.”
A grin tugs at the edges of my mouth. "I hear Switzerland is lovely this time of year.”
Roman rubs his hands together. "Jet's being prepped as we speak.”
"I'll let Kira know what’s happening and meet you out front," I say, already in motion.
