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“Well, I’m not sure if I’ll be up to all the fame, but we’ll see in twenty-years,” I teased back.
Greta smiled at me before turning to go about her business, and her departure had me turning back to the flowers. If they were a thank you from a recent client, then why not send cardstock with their company name or logo? Why send a random thank you that could be confused with any other number of clients that we dealt with? Plus, not that I was looking for handouts, but a lot of our clients were big corporate America, so why not add a gift card or something like that? It was usually customary and a write-off.
Shaking my head, I decided to forget about the damn flowers, then get back to work. After all, the electric company didn’t take hugs as payment.
Chapter 3
Maksim~
We were at The Richmond, a table always reserved in the back for any bratva members, and though Avgust and I could take care of ourselves well, whenever we were together out in public, we always made sure that we had enough guards not to be caught unaware. Of course, if it ever came down to it, I’d give my life for Avgust, something that he knew as well as he knew his own name. Especially, now that he was married with a child.
Now, apart from the guards, it was just us, and so I didn’t have to watch my tone or words as I would with an audience. Though I’d never purposely insult or challenge my Pakhan, Avgust and I were close enough that he allowed me to speak freely when it was just the two of us. It was also fortunate that Avgust’s ego wasn’t a fragile one, so there was little danger of it getting in the way. A lot of men let power go to their heads, but Avgust Kotov didn’t lack confidence.
“I just don’t understand how he’s been able to evade us for this long,” I said, the same thought that kept plaguing me for a year being repeated.
Last year, we’d learned that Akim and I had a half-brother that was out for some sort of revenge. While he’d been going by Klive Simpson and creating havoc for the O’Briens and Sartoris as well, Nero Sartori’s genius hacker, Morocco Carrisi, had been able to finally get us a picture of him and a possible motive. We’d also learned that his real name was Nikel Ovchinnikov Barychev and that he was thirty-four, looked like both my brother and me, and was my father’s love child from an affair that he’d been carrying on whenever he’d traveled back to Russia.
According to Morocco, he’d been seeing a woman named Arina Ovchinnikov that had lived in the same town as my grandparents, Esso Village. Arina had gotten pregnant with Nikel, and everything had been fine until the day that Nikel’s older brother had fallen into a creek, drowning in front of Nikel and their close friend, Louie Manziel. Now, while Edik Ovchinnikov’s death had been ruled an accident, the tragedy had done a number on both Arina and Nikel.
At any rate, Arina had done her best to reach out to Demitri, but with no success, she’d fallen into a deep depression, and Nikel had been at a loss on how to help his mother. Consequently, Nikel had vowed to make our father pay, so after the death of his mother a few years ago, he had decided to come to the US to take his revenge on Demitri, something that I’d already suspected. Unfortunately for him, the reason that Demitri had never returned Arina’s phone calls was because he’d already overdosed by that time. Now, while I wasn’t sure if Demitri would have done the right thing by Arina, that was something that we were never going to know because Demitri had been dead by then.
Nevertheless, instead of taking that information and dealing with his grief reasonably, Nikel had decided to take his anger out on me and Akim, and after amassing a small group of thugs to wreak a bit of havoc on the town, his plan had been to start a war between the Irish, Italians, and us, but he had underestimated the way that organized crime worked in the state of Maryland. After five years of trying to get to me and Akim, he was the only one left, and with his picture and motives now known, it shouldn’t be this hard to track him down, though that was proving false.
“The benefit to being a nomad is that you can change your appearance and name constantly,” Avgust pointed out. “That phone call from Manziel’s phone tipped him off, so it is quite possible that he went back to Russia.”
“I doubt it.”
Avgust grinned. “Me, too.”
“If Akim wasn’t in the picture, I would be handling this a lot better,” I confessed as I eyed my best friend. “Anyone coming after my brother is a problem for me.”
“Akim can take care of himself, Maksim,” he reasoned. “You’ve taught him well.”
Even though it was true, it didn’t matter. I’d been taking care of Akim since the day that he’d been born, and that made him more than just a brother to me. He’d always been my responsibility, and I refused to fail him. Unlike me, he had a family, and if anyone should take the heat for Nikel’s unhinged way of thinking, then it should be me.
“I’m also having trouble wrapping my mind around the entire situation,” I admitted. “I understand that childhood trauma shapes us all differently, but it’s frustrating to know that he is trying to get revenge for a skewed reality. Dimitri Barychev was a piece of shit dirtbag, and Nikel was better off without him.” I leaned back in my chair. “I mean, I understand wanting to avenge his mother, if that is what this is. However, he really is a better person for not having had Dimitri in his life.”
“You know, it is possible that he’s hiding out in one of the other territories,” Avgust posed. “The O’Briens and Sartoris wouldn’t be looking for him the way that we are.”
I shook my head as I reached for my glass of vodka. “The truth of the matter is that he could be anywhere. It truly is a waste to speculate on where he could be when he could be anywhere.”
Eyeing me, Avgust said, “I could always put a couple of more men on your brother.”
“And have Akim lose his shit?” I snorted.
Avgust grinned again. “It is important to allow a man to be a man.”
Changing the subject, I asked, “How is Samara doing?”
“She is doing well,” he answered. “Our son keeps her busy.”
Through no fault of her own, Samara had been kidnapped by Louie Manziel last year, and he’d been a big enough bastard to torture her enough to leave a lasting impression. Thankfully, Samara had never been much of a wallflower, and so she had managed to get free and kill Manziel in the process. Avgust, Samara, and I had all gone to school together, so our history was a long one, and through a lot of trials and tribulations, she and Avgust were now married and working on their family.
After giving him an acknowledging nod, I said, “We’ll need the ports for a last-minute shipment that’s supposed to come in next month.”
“Make the call to Provenza,” he instructed. “As far as I know, the rates are the same.”
“I hate being trapped in the middle of those two assholes,” I remarked before taking another sip of my liquor, a comment that I made continuously.
