Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“They were my friends,” I barely got out.
“No,” he said flatly. “I am your friend. And I, in turn, have friends. Those who would never betray me for blood or money or standing.”
I reached for his hand, and he took mine, holding tight, smiling at me.
The tears were a surprise. “Thank you.”
“You showed me your heart when you took care of my family, Maks, when my brother was ill and I had to return to Vladivostok those many years ago.”
I had. He was right. My father wanted to stop paying Sava’s salary while he was gone, but I didn’t even consider that. Sava was one of my guys, and that wasn’t going to change just because he had a family emergency. I’d made sure that his wife, Alisa, was paid, that her refrigerator and cupboards were full, and that whatever her girls needed, from school uniforms to dental checkups, were covered. I would have done no less for any of my people.
“So it’s a debt you’re paying off,” I replied sadly.
His eyes went cold for a moment, and I recognized the killer that he was. “No. As I said, you showed me who you were when you stood by my family.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.”
“Good,” he said, smiling again.
But then it hit me. “Sava,” I gasped, jolting, sitting up straight, the motion sucking the air from my body and making me instantly light-headed.
“What are you doing?” he yelled, standing up and shoving me back against the pillows.
My vision swam, and there were lights everywhere, flashing in my face while he yelled at me, and then there was nothing because I passed out.
When I came to a few minutes later, my eyes fluttering open, Sava was on his phone, texting with someone.
“Over my dead body,” he muttered.
“Who are you mad at now?”
He turned to me. “Don’t do that again. You have stitches that don’t need to be ripped, yes?”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“Scaring me is bad. I don’t like it.”
“Understood.”
“Drink some water while I tell my daughter that the Italian boy she wants to date is out of the question.”
“I thought there was a nice…what was his name, the Jewish one, really smart, going to MIT or something?”
“That is Noah, and he’s Elena’s boyfriend. Maria, you know, she’s married to the nice plumber, Jacek. This is Anya who’s going to be the death of me.”
I had to smile.
“And you know, I don’t care that he’s Italian. I care that he’s twenty-one and she’s sixteen. I’ll kill him first.”
And yes, Sava could kill anyone—and had—but his wildly skewed moral compass would never allow him to hurt an innocent.
“They think they are smarter than me, sneaking around.”
The young man was playing with fire, and clearly, he wasn’t very bright to try and go behind Sava’s back. Even if you didn’t know what the man did for a living, just from seeing him and talking to him, you knew he wasn’t someone you crossed. Fuck-around-and-find-out took on a whole new level of scary when you screwed with Sava Chaban’s daughters.
He finished his texting as I had some water, then said, “What the hell was that earlier?”
“I realized—and I got so scared just thinking about—are you in danger? Your family? Does my father—”
“Stop, stop,” he soothed me, taking my hand and squeezing it gently. “You know I’m a freelance contractor, have been for years. After your funeral, I had a job in London to take care of, and as far as anyone knows, that’s where I was and where I’ve been.”
“But you’ve been here and—”
“I have a friend who took care of that for me. He flew on my passport, so if I’m ever asked, I have all the proof I need.”
“How the hell does someone fly on your passport?”
The look I got, like I was an idiot, made me instantly feel like one.
“Maks, people do these things all the time. You need to get out more.”
Clearly.
“But really, believe me when I tell you it is handled.”
“Not that my father would ever even ask you where you were at any given time.”
“No. He would not,” Sava agreed.
Years ago, Sava’s brother had been close to death. At that time, my friend had made the decision to go see his sibling even though the two had been estranged for many years. When Sava made the trip, little did anyone know that the elder Chaban would rise like a phoenix from his deathbed.
Once Ivan Chaban was well—restored, many said, through Sava’s faith and determination alone—Ivan let my father know that his brother, who’d been cut off from the family, had been returned to the fold. This meant that Sava was free to do whatever he wanted. Basically, Sava didn’t have to work another day in his life. He was no longer on our payroll or anyone else’s. Through my taking care of his family when they needed it so Sava could show his brother his true love and devotion, he became free of everyone. He worked now because he got bored doing nothing, but it was understood that he was, without question, untouchable. As vicious and bloodthirsty as my father was, Ivan Chaban, a rich, terrifyingly connected oligarch, made him look like a saint.