Page 17 of Lord of the Underworld

"I'll call you tomorrow," I say, "when I can find a safe location."

"Good. Talk to you soon," she says.

I slide my second phone into the pouch inside my riding boot and hurry over to Novia, kissing her soft nose. "It's like a merry-go-round that's going faster and faster," I whisper to her. "Too fast to jump off. And I'm barely holding on." Her eyes are warm, a liquid chestnut color and gazing at me with all of the ageless wisdom a horse can offer. "Come on, baby," I say, stroking her flank. "Let's go for a ride."

***

Okh, chort - Oh, crap

Chapter Nine

In which there is deep satisfaction in a job well done.

Vadim…

My monitor alarm chimes softly as I'm going over some of the manufacturing specs for the ghost guns in Father's study. It's from the cameras I put in Oksana's bedroom, the first night I visited her.

Father looks up from the plans. "What's that? Are you checking the activity at the plant?"

"Side project," I say, watching Vasiliev's Sovietnik slither into Oksana's room. His reputation is well known; the man is a pig. Daring to enter my bride's room is going to cost him. He strolls around the room as if he has the right to be there before picking up her pillow and burying his face in it, inhaling deeply.

"What is this side project?" Father leans over and curses. "Who is that and whose bedroom?"

"It's Oksana's," I say. "That is Vasiliev's Sovietnik."

"You put those cameras in, didn't you?" he asks sternly.

"Of course."

"This is a violation of her privacy- that yebat'!" Father snarls, his lecture about privacy forgotten as we watch him paw through her laundry hamper, plucking out a pair of panties and holding them against his nose for a deep sniff before pocketing them.

"Her father doesn't protect her," I say. "This is not the first time he's done this, I'm certain."

"I'm free tonight," he says, his lip curling as the man leaves Oksana's bedroom.

"Thank you. This will be a personal project," I say. Disgust is curdling in my gut as I replay his tour around my bride's bedroom. The rage builds in me like a cyclone, violent, almost blinding. Tonight is the Sovietnik's last night as an intact man.

Later that night...

"Thanks for letting me come along," Stepan says. "Quality family time is so important."

"Be quiet." I'm watching the roofline of Yefim Vasiliev's home for additional guards before we move in. The Sovietnik is the Pakhan's cousin. It's the only reason he'd be allowed a position that high. He's useless, a blustering troll.

"So, this asshole, he likes knocking up girls and dumping them, right?" Stepan is undeterred, crouching next to me.

Pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, I regret again that I allowed him to join me.

***

Stepan had been waiting in my private parking garage when I stepped out of the elevator, cleaning his nails with a dagger. He thinks it makes him look threatening. I've seen how many times he's cut himself doing it.

"I heard you have a playdate," he said cheerfully. "I'm your Second tonight since Ivan's back in Chicago."

"I don't need a Second." I loaded the duffel bag in the back of the jeep.

Ignore him and he'll go away.

"Well, I'm here anyway," he said. "C'mon. What if you got killed right before your wedding? I'd have to take over as groom, and-"