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“Sasha,” Viktor said with a smile, gesturing to the seat next to him. “Good news, I hope?”
Easing onto the edge of the chair, I pushed it back, giving myself a better view of the front door and the kitchen. “Where’s Yuri?”
Viktor chuckled. “Off with his whores, snorting a mountain of cocaine, I imagine. That’s why you’re the one here discussing business instead of him.”
I wasn’t in the mood to be flattered. It was uncharacteristic of Viktor and a waste of my time. “When Yuri proposed this idea, did you know whose safety deposit box that was?”
Viktor blinked, either at my abruptness or the question. “Why?”
“Because it belongs to Sergei Sidorov.” I watched his expression carefully. He gave nothing away, except, perhaps, annoyance. “And there weren’t emeralds, as you said. It was information — on all of us.”
“Did you get it?”
“Get what?” I cocked my head at him.
A flash of irritation crossed his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “The thumb drive.”
My stomach twisted into knots. Lying piece of shit… “I never said anything about a flash drive.”
He chuckled again and spread his hands. “You said information, Sasha. What else would it be? Polaroids like in the old days? Calm down.”
I slid a glance at Eduard. He was at the next table, sitting up as straight as a board, his index finger tapping on the white tablecloth as he watched us. Other than Roan, he was the only other person who knew I had the flash drive. What was it Misha said last night?I smell betrayal in the air.
“So did you get it?” Viktor prompted again.
“Of course,” I replied, trying to keep the snarl out of my voice.
“Where is it, then?”
“Not here.”
Viktor raised his eyebrows, momentarily stunned into silence. “Why not?”
“What do I look like to you?” I shot back. “My payment just tripled. Between cleaning up after Yuri and ripping off Sergei, this job is worth more than the original price.”
“Except you fucked up too. You let the hostage escape.”
“I got the key and I killed the kid. Unlike your fucking nephew, I keep my word.”
Viktor was about to reply when a black Escalade pulled up in front of the tea room and parked, bringing our conversation to a screeching halt. When the passenger door opened, Misha stepped out. Buttoning his burgundy suit jacket as he walked, his gaze met mine through the front window. Arching a brow, I swear there was a smirk before he opened the door and strode over to Viktor’s table.
“Viktor,” Misha said with none of his usual pleasantness. He didn’t wait for Viktor’s acknowledgement before turning to me. “And you are?”
I stood slowly, offering my hand and masking my confusion behind a scowl. “Aleksandr Vassiliev.”
“The Wolf of Verkhoyansk in the flesh.” Misha smiled and shook my hand firmly, like we weren’t already acquainted. “Misha Chernyshevsky.”
Viktor was on his feet as well, holding his hand out. “Good to see you again, Misha.”
Misha looked at Viktor’s hand and sat without touching it. “It’s Mikhail to you. Sit.”
You could have heard a pin drop.
Resuming his seat, Viktor held his head high, despite the profound insult.
Excusing myself, I turned to leave, but Misha laid a hand on my forearm. “No, Sasha. Stay. I won’t be long.”
I glanced at Viktor as I lowered myself back into the chair. His smile looked more like a grimace. I’m sure he was already thinking of ways for Misha to have a terrible “accident” in the coming weeks. And from the suspicious glance he sent my way, I’m sure I was also on the list.
