Page 69 of The Beauty Who Loved Him

Nobody said he had to deal with it well.

“It’s far easier to overlook and explain away bodies washing up in the canal when they aren’t bodies of people you have known contact with,” Dimitry noted, “not to mention, if they didn’t keep showing up in rubbish bags.”

“The trash bags help with the mess, or so Igor says,” Vaslav replied.

Dimitry glanced his way, then, unimpressed. “But not with the public speculation, hmm?”

Vaslav didn’t bother to point out the amount of money he had shelled out to officers and other officials across the city to quietly and swiftly move on from his ... messes. No doubt, Dimitry already had a full scope, given his own reach inside the institution.

“I don’t want to ever see my name in the papers again,” Vaslav said. “I’m not asking for much.”

“Yet, you keep killing people. Do you see how those two things don’t fit together?”

“Wouldn’t have to do the killing bit, either, if said people would stay out of my business and follow the fucking rules.”

It wasn’t hard.

Dimitry nodded once, and then his gaze landed on Vaslav. With a good quarter of a century between the two in age, it was the life experience and power his uncle had achieved that lended to the respect Vaslav offered the man.

Very little else.

Blood counted for almost nothing, now.

“This is the last time I am cleaning up one of your messes,” Dimitry warned. “I better not hear of one more body floating up in the canal.”

“I’ve already figured out a new way to handle that problem. Worry not.”

Dimitry’s pursed lips told Vaslav that the man wasn’t happy with his nephew’s reply. “Frankly, I’d rather not know, and one more thing, da?”

“Yes, what?”

“Make sure your fucking mother never calls me again, or else the last thing you ever want to do is ask me for one more favor, Vaslav. Mark my words.”

Fair enough.

“You never answer when I call,” Vaslav said.

“I sincerely hope you don’t wonder why.”

Vaslav didn’t wonder. A call from him meant nothing good.

Chuckling under his breath, he muttered, “Natalia isn’t a real concern. After this month, she won’t even have a penny to pay for the phone she called you from.”

Dimitry didn’t ask for details.

Natalia wasn’t that important, honestly.

“Back to the church, then?” Dimitry asked. “Is that where you’d like to go?”

“No, actually,” Vaslav replied. “How would your driver feel about taking me a dozen blocks east?”

Dimitry, letting out an annoyed grunt, reached over to press the button the console to his left once more. “Why the hell not? You’ve already wasted half of my day. Let’s add another hour to the clock. I clearly don’t have anything better to do.”

He said it, not Vaslav.

15.

Vera glanced between the chicken sandwich on rye bread and the Almond Puff sitting right beside it on another plate. She could already taste the flaky sweetness that would soon melt in her mouth. The small, tucked away cafe really did have a knack for homemade, fresh-baked cakes and pastries.