Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
My naturally engrained dislike for rich schmucks Feo forever warned would get me in trouble pops in for a visit before I can stop it. “I thought it was family money.”
Leon laughs. It is as fake as my interest in fighting for him. “Family is not everything, Feo.” He spits out my brother’s name like he no longer believes I’m him. “It’s the ties that bind us.”
I’m not a biblical man so his saying is lost on me, but I play it cool. “And money. Everything comes down to money.”
“True.” He pulls out a sheet of paper from his drawer before pushing it to my side of his desk. “And I think this figure is very fair.”
Assuming I’ll be bowled over by the six-figure amount cited on the contract in front of me, he moves to a bar on his left and pours himself a generous serving of whiskey. I shake my head when he dips the decanter my way, offering me a drink.
He downs half his serving before he places the partially empty glass onto a coaster on his desk. It is right next to his pen holder and just to the side of the USB I’m desperate to reach.
“What do I need to do to accept this?” A whistle shrieks between my teeth as I drag my hand over my scalp. “I’ve never seen so many digits strung together.”
I’m a fucking liar. Maksim offered me six figures a run only three days ago. I could have seven figures in my bank account by the end of the month if money is all I want out of life.
It isn’t. I want to live the life Feo no longer can and teach his son that not all parents are pieces of shit. And I want to do that with Polina at my side, guiding me with one lazy smile at a time.
Leon is clueless to this, though. “All you need to do is sign the contract, and we will have the funds transferred immediately.”
“Now?” When he nods, I act like a street kid who’s never had two dimes to rub together. “Then sign me up, Scotty.” I dive for a pen, “accidentally” knocking over his drink in the process. “Oh, shit, man, I’m sorry. I messed up your desk.” When Leon snags a tissue box from behind him, I snatch Kliment’s driver out of the port, then dump Leon’s onto the desk.
I don’t have time to place it back where it belongs. It is careless, but I’ve taken men down bigger than Leon’s goon, so I barely panic.
“I’d offer to replace your desk, but I’m not even sure this will cover it.” I wiggle the un-drenched paper in the air to distract Leon’s focus from the driver before assisting him in cleaning up the mess.
Once we have the brown liquid mopped up, Leon says, “It’s fine. Nothing a little scribble across a piece of paper won’t fix.”
He makes it sound so easy, like Polina hasn’t been struggling for months to achieve the exact same thing, and the reminder has me switching things up. “Then you won’t have any objections lending me one of yours.”
His mask only drops for a second, but I see it—that quickest flare of panic.
“Brecken—”
The floorboards back me up for the second time tonight, but they also leave me defenseless. I’ve only just bent back the hand of the goon preparing to pluck me from my seat when Leon jabs something into my neck.
Then, not even a second later, I’m out cold.
28
POLINA
“Who the fuck are you waiting for, Polina?” Vasily asks, his voice groggy and incapable of hiding his inebriated state. “Almost all the guests have left.”
“Almost all of them. Not all of them.”
I haven’t seen Yev since Vasily’s father commanded me to his side to introduce me to some constituents from his office. His demeanor was a little icy, but he wouldn’t have introduced me to important members of his inner circle if he had known what Yev and I were doing.
Not even Vasily is that unhinged.
“Come on, Polly. For fuck’s sake. I’m bored.”
When Vasily grabs the top of my arm and yanks me toward his ride, I freeze for a second before all hell breaks loose. I kick and scream like I did at the officer who pulled me from my hidey-hole over two decades ago, my fight so vicious I lose several nails.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Vasily drops his hands from my arms, instantly ending my fight, before he slings his eyes to Mikey. “Thought you said she didn’t touch any of it.”
“She didn’t,” Mikey replies. “But I told you that shit he sells is potent. I was spaced out for days.”
“Did you take something?” Vasily asks, his focus back on me.
His eyes are as glassy as mine, but his glassy appearance is from narcotics.