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“Nothing about Nirvana?”
“No. I’d prefer if the police think this was politically motivated. Nirvana has enough attention from law enforcement at the moment, we don’t need any more.”
“Now where to?” Anton asked once he was behind the wheel.
I glanced down at myself, wiping the toe of my shoe onto the carpet, ridding it of a blood smear. “Your cousin’s shop. Tell him to chop this car and he can keep whatever money he makes as a thank you. Then I need to make another couple of stops before going home. Marek left all of the Christmas presents at my Uptown apartment. I should bring them for the children tonight.”
“Yeah, boss, about that…” Valery shifted on the seat next to me. “Now that Sergei and Dimitri are gone, what’s the rule? About… us?”
“For now? Don’t advertise it. Not until we’ve weeded out any of the men who might share their views. But you know you don’t have to hide it from me and you don’t have to hide it outside of where we conduct business. If someone sees you in another part of town?” I gestured vaguely. “Handle it however you want. I’ll support you.”
He nodded, the lines of his shoulders relaxing a bit.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” I raised my brows at him.
“No, boss,” he said, his dark gaze darting out the window.
Up front, Anton snorted. Even Maxim’s shoulders shook with a quiet chuckle. Valery might have been a lot of things but a good liar wasn’t one of them. Rather than needle him about it, I smirked to myself and let him be. It seemed we were all starting the new year in a happier place.
44
MAREK
KnowingMisha was out there doing God knew what to Ken, I was already on edge, so when someone rang the doorbell to Misha’s penthouse I about came out of my skin.
I checked the camera by the door but all I could see was the top of an old lady’s kerchiefed head and a tea cart. Opening the door with a furrowed brow, my confusion grew tenfold when she almost mowed me over with the cart, rambling in Russian.
“Um, hi?” I pushed the door closed and followed her, completely bewildered as to what this little old lady was doing barging into Misha’s penthouse like she owned the place.
Nadia came running up to her and the lady turned her attention to the dog, speaking in even more Russian and getting Nadia excited about… something? She reached a wrinkled hand into the pocket on her apron and withdrew some kind of hard biscuit and gave it to the dog.
Turning my gaze to the tea cart, I realized it was covered in all sorts of containers of varying shapes and sizes. Small bowls, a large platter, and average-sized dishes with tin foil over the top, along with a steaming basket with a towel draped over it.
After she’d given Nadia attention, the old lady started unloading the food onto the counter before turning to me and saying something that sounded like an ass chewing. There was a lot of pointing involved and staring at me.
Hesitantly, I picked up the basket and then paused, waiting. She pointed emphatically at the counter. I set it down and she nodded. I think I got the gist and started helping unload everything from the cart.
“What’s that?” Ezra said behind me, diving into the basket first, probably since it was the only thing without a lid of some sort. “It’s bread! Oo, and it’s warm.”
The old lady started chattering at Ezra, who looked at me, equally befuddled. I gave a small shrug and gestured toward her. “Say thank you, Ez.”
“Thank you!”
She smiled and nodded.
Peeking under one of the tinfoil lids, he wrinkled his nose and backed up quickly. “That stinks. I’m not eating that.”
I nudged him and gave him a “Shut up!” look, even though itdidsmell. Without looking at what it was, my guess was on some kind of fish. Or roadkill. Really could have gone either way.
Ezra made a face at me and went back to the bread. Before I could stop him, he ripped off a chunk and took off down the hallway, yelling, “Bri! There’s weird food in the kitchen!”
I gave the woman my most charming smile, hoping she didn’t speak English, or if she did that she would be forgiving of children and their loud mouths. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice since she’d grabbed the empty cart and was already wheeling it back to the door.
“Thank you?” I said, following behind her. “I’ll let Misha know you—”
The front door swung open and Misha himself strolled in with a brown paper grocery bag in one arm and a handful of shopping bags in the other, shopping bags full of Christmas presents that looked an awful lot like the ones sitting at the other apartment.
His gaze went from me to the old lady and he smiled, rushing over to her and speaking animatedly in Russian.
