Nikolai: The Complete Collection

29. Nikolai

29

NIKOLAI

M y eyes stray to Justine’s closed bedroom door when Roman ushers Vladimir and three of his foot soldiers into the foyer of Justine’s apartment. I doubt she’ll come out of her room any time soon. She was pissed when Roman stopped her from talking to me hours ago, citing all contact must now go through him, and she’s been holed up in her room ever since.

As Vladimir bridges the gap between us, he takes in Justine’s outdated apartment. I was hoping my request for assistance would occur over the phone. I should have known better. Vladimir likes getting his hands dirty, even when it’s helping a man he detests. He wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have something he needs, but with my blood pressure sky high, we’ll keep that snippet of information for another day.

“Niki, you look well.” Since we’re minus the swarm of press who usually circles us when we are together, Vladimir doesn’t lean in to kiss my cheek as he usually would. “Your new whore must have a tasty cunt, otherwise what reason would you have to stay holed up in this dump?”

The harsh twist of his lips tells me he’s watched the surveillance from Justine’s apartment more than once, so he’s aware I’ve yet to bed Justine. He’s just mocking me since he failed to see the shake of my bones from him calling me Niki.

The last time he called me that was when he told me my brother had been killed by a rogue Russian operative. He smiled while telling me the news of Rico’s murder, his face as joyous as a father announcing the birth of his first child.

“Your accommodation is usually more… fragrant. I can barely smell an ounce of lust in this room. It almost smells like death.”

He’s fishing for information he’ll never get from me. He taught me how to act ignorant long before he showed me how you can kill a man without draining an ounce of blood from his veins.

My eyes shoot to Roman when Vladimir snickers under his breath. “Let’s hope her cunt isn’t as bland as her cooking because from what I heard, she could learn a thing or two about serving those above her.”

Roman had a hacker remove the footage of Justine’s attack and the aftermath that followed it, so how does Vladimir know about her exchange with Sergei?

Before attacking Justine, Sergei taunted her about her ‘supposed’ bland meal. Only someone who watched the footage would know that.

My jaw tightens when reality dawns. The wound to Sergei’s throat clearly wasn’t deep enough to shut his flapping gums. I’ll be sure to fix the injustice the instant I return to the Popov compound, where Sergei is recovering from his ‘injuries’ in a room that was once Rico’s.

The tick in my jaw lowers to my fists when Vladimir returns my focus to him. “What do you need, son? I don’t have all day.”

A blind man wouldn’t miss the shudder that rolls down my spine this time around. I hate when he calls me son almost as much as I do when he calls me Niki.

After loosening the tight clench of my fists, I gesture for Vladimir to join me in my room, not wanting our conversation overheard by Justine. I anticipate for us to talk man to man, but I forgot that Vladimir doesn’t know the meaning of the word. His goons follow him into my room, cramping the confined space even more than Justine’s bulky furniture.

Once Roman shuts the door, I lock my eyes with ones as lifeless as death. Vladimir’s dark chocolate eyes should have been my first clue he wasn’t my father. I’d often wondered why I was his only child to have icy-blue eyes, but since he treated all his children as if he hated them, I didn’t dig as deeply as I should have.

It was foolish of me, and I’ve not made the same mistake since.

With my body gripped with hidden tension, I say, “I’ve managed to secure an informant from the Petretti crew. He’s been with them for a few years now and is deep enough to secure a lot more intel than your last lackey got.”

Vladimir is smarter than he looks. He ignores my snipe at his failed attempts to infiltrate the Petretti crew the past three years by only acknowledging the useful information in my comment. “The transfer you organized was for an informant?” When I jerk up my chin, hiding my annoyance at how closely he’s watching me, he scoffs. “He’s serving life in prison. How could he possibly help us?”

He says ‘us,’ but he means him.

My walk to a set of drawers is done in silence, but when I toss open a file containing photocopies of the visitors register at Wallens Ridge State Penitentiary for the past four years, I hear a murmur of commendation rattle in Vladimir’s chest. For every month of Maddox’s conviction, there’s a signature no amount of messy handwriting can hide—D Petretti.

“Dimitri didn’t even visit his brother monthly when he was incarcerated, yet he has plenty of time for a supposed bottom-dweller of his crew.”

“Interesting.” Vladimir steps closer to authenticate the documents. They cost me a pretty picture to purchase, but they’re worth every damn penny when Vladimir’s approving murmur is audible this time around. “What is Prisoner 65281 incarcerated for?”

“Murder.” I don’t mention it was to fulfill his sister’s debt. I only tell Vladimir what I want him to know. Maddox’s connection to Justine will never be exposed, not even if I discover she’s one of Carmichael’s many tricks. “He won’t be out any time soon, but his intel could be priceless.”

It kills him to do, but Vladimir nods in agreement. “I agree.” His trench coat scratches the floorboard when he turns to face me. “So, I will ask again, my boy, what do you need from me?”

Ignoring the tremor hitting my jaw, I say, “Judge Santos is dead.”

Vladimir smiles a cruel and vindictive grin. “I heard. It was very unfortunate for all involved, wouldn’t you say?”

My eyelid twitches as anger steamrolls into me. Only now am I realizing an underage boy didn’t steal the light from Judge Santos’s eyes.

Vladimir did.

With my thoughts elsewhere, I played right into his fucking hand. He didn’t appreciate me stepping out on my own, so he devised a way to force me back home. By killing Judge Santos, I had to either face my charges like an everyday civilian or ask Vladimir for help. He knew I’d always choose the latter, which meant I’d be indebted to him even more than he thinks I already am.

I had planned to secure his help by wowing him with the possibility of an informant from his rival crew. Now Maddox is my only lifeline, and Vladimir fucking knows it.

One of the reasons my crew calls me The Snake is showcased when my annoyance rolls right off my scales. Now is not the time for me to lose my head. I’ve got enough people playing me for a fool. I can’t add another to my list, especially when it’s a ублюдок like Vladimir.

“I want to head to Florida and speak to my informant in person. I can’t do that if I’m sitting in a holding cell, awaiting trial. I need my charges dropped.”

Vladimir looks like I told him I’m giving him the millions of dollars in my bank account when he asks, “And you need my help to do that?”

It takes a good three seconds for me to lower my chin, and even then, it’s as weak and as pitiful as the man I’ve been portraying the past four hours. “I had my case transferred to Mr. Schluter’s side of his firm a couple of hours ago. Ernest is willing to do what’s needed after you’ve given him the green light.”

While Vladimir contemplates a reply, I sit on the end of my bed to run a hand down my tired face. I’m exhausted from a lack of sleep the past two days, but that’s not the only thing making me restless. It’s from dumping a woman I’m certain isn’t evil into hell without first giving her the chance to explain herself. Justine said words identical to ones that almost got me killed, but that doesn’t mean she understands their significance. Perhaps she does truly believe I deserve better.

My hand has only just fallen from my face when my bedroom door shoots open and Justine darts into the testosterone-filled space, oblivious to the danger she’s thrusting herself into.

“You’re a complete and utter idiot. I know we’ve said stupid things, done stupid things, and acted stupidly, but I am a professional, Nikolai. Nothing said or done would have ever affected my representation of you in court.” Since her eyes are locked on mine, she fails to notice we have company. “Your inability to trust just cost you five to seven years of your life because what Carmichael said Friday was true. I’m not just the best attorney Schluter & Fletcher has seen, I was your only chance of having your charges dismissed. Because I see you, Nikolai… the real you. I would have defended your honor until my last breath.”

Justine’s breath catches in her throat when Vladimir mocks the speech that resurrected the dead organ in the middle of my chest. “Is that so, Ангел ? You see the real Nikolai?”