Page 204 of Nothing More

“I know that you double-crossed Toly, and your own Pakhan. I figure you allowed the raid to happen on the house as a means of dumping dead weight, and making a clean break. You can set up shop somewhere else, recruit new people, and when Kozlov’s daughter arrives, marry her, and put yourself in prime position to take over. With Toly as hostage, you hoped to talk the Dogs into some sort of parley, double-cross them, too, have yourselves a grand old shootout, and severely weaken the club, which is your greatest competition here in the city.”

He didn’t respond in any visible way, which meant she was right.

“Now, here’s what I want: Toly returned, alive and unharmed.”

Flicker of a smile.

“Alive, then,” she said. “Upright and breathing, yes? And I want you to leave him the fuck alone for the rest of his days. He’ll never bother you again, that I can guarantee.”

“And what would I get?”

“Aside from Connie’s safety?” she said.

Ian leaned forward, and removed his sunglasses, dragged off his beanie so his auburn hair spilled around his shoulders. Misha’s brows went up in a gratifying show of surprise. “If you know who Raven is,” Ian said in his own voice, “then you know who I am. Name a sum, and you shall have it.”

~*~

Toly dreamed of the billboard in Moscow, soaring high and glorious above the snow-dusted rooftops. Only, he wasn’t huddled on the roof with the ravens, dreaming; he was in the ad, walking across a thick white carpet toward the enchanting woman lying on a fur-draped chaise, bare to the waist, roped with pearls, her lustrous dark hair coiled round her shoulders to preserve her modesty. She saw him coming and smiled, that coy, I’ve-got-a-secret smile that promised she possessed the answers to all his questions – and his prayers.

Slowly, in the way of dreams, she extended a manicured hand toward him, palm up, beseeching.

Then he stood in a kitchen, chopping vegetables, and that same face was calling to him, that same hand upturned, waiting.

He threw down his knife and made a wild grab for it, desperate, heaving for breath.

Bang! Bang, bang!

“Ra…ven,” he murmured brokenly, coming awake with a breathless lurch. Everything hurtso much, worst of all the knot in his throat, the ache in his chest that had nothing to do with being starved and beaten and cut up. He should have taken her hand. All he wanted now was to go back to that day in the kitchen and grip her hand tight, to promise to drop Misha and all the bratva business for good; to promise to trust her, and lean on her, and let her family embrace him the way it had been trying to, in its own weird, dysfunctional way.

But he was here, now, and he would die soon, and his eyes burned, dry and gritty, unable to even form tears.

His breathing slowed, because it had to, because he was too exhausted to sustain the adrenaline rush. Belatedly, he realized the sound that had woken him was gunshots.

Then he heard voices.

“…Christ, what a sack of shit.” A dull thud.

“Mustyou do that?”

“I felt like it. He deserved it while he was alive, but I’ll settle for kicking in a dead man’s teeth. He hurt my girlie, and I can’t have that.”

A sigh. “Technically, he hurt Toly.”

“Which hurts my girl! Andyoursister. Go on. You have a turn now.”

A beat.

“If it’ll hurry you along…” Another thud. “Happy?”

“As a pig in shit. You think it’s through there?”

“That’s what Ilya said.”

The bolt slid back, and the door creaked open.

Toly didn’t bother turning his head, but after a moment – “Shit,” someone swore softly – two heads appeared above his own, peering down at him.

Raven, was his first thought.