Page 198 of Dark King Daddy

“I’m glad you’re coming.”

“So am I.”

Downstairs, I put away the screwdriver and moved the chair back into place. The kitchen was quiet with the power off. Upstairs, my wife was singing something badly while she dressed.

I stood still long enough to hear the next line.

Then I picked up my keys.

Arkady had his boots on my desk.

“No,” I said from the doorway.

He looked up from his phone. Looked at his boots. Lowered them with the air of a man making a substantial concession.

“Good morning, Pakhan.”

“You’ve been speaking to my wife?”

“True. You know, I prefer talking to her. She has better manners than you.”

“Ah, but she says you haven’t answered her message.”

He checked his phone, frowned and began typing.

“She sent it yesterday.”

“That’s not a long time! I’ve been extremely busy.”

“Eating?”

He looked gobsmacked. “Are you saying I shouldn’t eat? You want me to waste away?”

“You know, Ksenia does know where you live.”

He eyed me, then he sent the message.

“There. Dinner confirmed. Domestic catastrophe averted.”

I hung up my coat. My father’s desk still dominated the room, but there were new chairs in front of it, comfortable ones. Arkady had complained when I bought them, then spent more time in them than anyone else.

“Maspeth?” I asked.

“Running. Yuri has the day shift organised. Anton’s cargo went through on Friday without a problem.”

He slid a photograph across the desk.

The amusement left his face.

“This is worth your time.”

Oleg Voronin stood outside a restaurant in Newark between two men I didn’t recognise. His hair was shorter. His mouth had healed.

I could still see Ksenia standing in that doorway with Kostya’s hand on her arm.

“When?”

“Thursday. The men run independent crews. Neither worked for Viktor before.”