“And now he’s stolen from me, Mrs. Karras, like a knife to my back.” He stared hard for a moment then began to examine a well-manicured fingernail, seemingly bored. “Yet I, in my benevolent generosity, dropped the charges against him. But I will not forgive the debt. Conner still owes me, and until he can pay, I’m going to hold onto you as collateral. And Katy, as well, since she got herself in a smidge deeper than planned, a complication that might actually work to my advantage, wouldn’t you say?” He ended with a taunting grin.
“I’d say you’re insane, much like the rest of your sick, twisted family.”
He chuckled first then scrunched his mouth together as he rocked his head from side to side. “Perhaps, Mrs. Karras, but I’ll just say thank you and take it as a compliment.”
I shook my head in disgust. “Look, Greg, I’ll pay whatever he owes. Just tell me how much and I’ll have it deposited into any account you want.”
Greg pulled his chin in close, his brow low. “Oh no, Mrs. Karras, I’m afraid that would be bad parenting. You cannot simply sweep in and assume your adult child’s debt. He needs to step up and be a man. Has his father not taught him this? Or dear old Stepdaddy, perhaps?”
Greg pushed to his feet and rounded the desk, leaning back against the front edge with his arms crossed over his chest.
“My own father was a stern man. He insisted I make my own way. But I ignored his advice, and, much like Conner, got myself into some hot water. I was young, so my father offered me a one-time deal and paid off my creditors, like you’re offering now. But my father treated me as he did everyone else, and when I couldn’t pay on his terms, I was forced to secure payment in whatever way he deemed appropriate, a bitter lesson indeed.” He paused and stared off into space, his upper lip lifted in seeming distaste. “Having known my father, Mrs. Karras, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”
I could only imagine what Dmitri Chernov deemed appropriate, but I shook my head at Greg’s assumption. He reacted with a cock of his head, his brow high in disbelief.
“Oh, but I think you do. Tell me if this sounds familiar.” Greg pushed away from the desk and began to walk slowly across the room. “My father had a fondness for bloodsport, and his customers a penchant for gambling.” He looked up at a row of books high upon a library shelf. He ran his finger along the long row then stopped and slipped a worn tome from its stack. He studied it for a second then held it up for me to see.
Gladiator: A History of Deadly Sport, the title said. I looked back up at Greg in wonder.
“This is my father’s idea of repayment.” He glanced back down at the book and smoothed his hand over the surface almost lovingly. Then, without warning, he hurled it across the room toward the cold, empty fireplace, knocking the black wrought-iron toolset down against the raised slate hearth.
I startled with a shriek. Greg paced a few steps as he raked his fingers through his inky hair and took a few deep breaths. He spun back toward me with a falsely composed smile.
“Did you know we met once before, Mrs. Karras—you and I? Well, not really met, exactly, but rather, we were at the same place at the same time.” He paused and looked long and hard at me, as if willing me to remember. “It was the night my father forced me to fight for my life, like a dog in a pit.”
I drew in another sharp breath, Greg’s words a reminder of the most horrid day of my life. I’d been kidnapped by Dmitri Chernov’s man and delivered to his client, Mr. Sergeyev, the monster who’d purchased me as his sex-slave, who raped and degraded me then paraded me around, half-naked and beaten, in front of a crowd of hundreds of frantic gamblers as they made life-and-death wagers against the fighters in the arena below.
I’d been forced to watch those barbaric contests, held firmly in place by my new master, his hand secure around the leather collar bound about my neck. Tyler’s younger brother, Nick, had fought and lost his life that night. Ty himself had waged his own battle.
But, earlier that evening, before Ty had turned against the crowd and killed Alexi and so many of Dmitri’s men in a war to save both his own life as well as mine, there had been one other bout. I remembered because the opponents had seemed so unfairly matched, one player a man in his physical prime, late twenties and easily two hundred pounds of lean, well-conditioned muscle that coiled and surged beneath colorful tattoos.
The other looked hardly more than a teenager, tall but thin, and frightened as he watched the animal opposite him pace in pent-up anticipation. I recalled fearing for that boy, knowing I was about to witness his violent death at the hands of a much stronger, more seasoned competitor. But I’d been wrong. While the kid’s adversary had gotten in the first punches, the boy had struck back and repelled the man, then attacked like the well-trained martial artist he quickly revealed himself to be. It was a brief contest, and the boy had come out the surprising victor, with his antagonist a seemingly lifeless, bloody mess on the floor as the boy circled him with his arms held high in victory.
I closed my eyes and recalled that young face held high to the roaring crowd above him, the utter relief mixed with a strange loathing as he whooped and pointed at the ringleader and master of ceremonies—Dmitri Chernov.
My eyes flew open, and I gasped.
“Ah, you remember, do you not, Mrs. Karras? Like I remember you, standing up along that rail.” He chuckled softly.
“That was you?” I asked. “You were that boy?”
He nodded once. “Yes, that was me, a lifetime ago. I nearly killed that worthless piece of shit. But that’s not how it was supposed to happen, Mrs. Karras. I was there to kill someone, yes, but not him. I was there to take down my greatest adversary, the bloke who, years earlier, had assumed my place at my father’s side. But in the end, my father saw that opportunity stolen from me.”
He sauntered up and stood before me, staring me in the eye with a half-smile pulling at his lips. “I was there, Mrs. Karras, to take down your husband’s brother. I was there to kill Nick.”
CHAPTER 35
Hannah
It was all too much to comprehend. All this time, Conner’s boss, Greg, was none other than the son of Dmitri Chernov, the very man who had tried to destroy Tyler, who’d seen me sold into sexual slavery. And as if that weren’t enough, now Greg had dropped a bomb of staggering implications.
Not only had Greg been there the night of the cage fights—as a fighter no less—but he’d been there to kill Tyler’s brother, Nick. He said Nick had been his greatest adversary, that he’d assumed Greg’s rightful place at his father’s side.
What the hell!
Nick might have been forced to join ranks with the Russians in order to protect Ty—at least that’s what the FBI had implied and convinced Ty of—but it made no sense that he would have consented to serve as Dmitri’s right-hand man. Unless there was something more between them, something Ty wasn’t aware of.
I stared at Greg, slack-jawed. His admission had stunned me into complete silence.
Greg, however, was grinning from ear to ear.
“Ah,” he said, wagging his finger at me. “I see you’re shocked, and rightfully so. Nick was not the two-bit player he portrayed himself to be to his loving brother. He started off that way, mind you, like the rest of us, even me. We held similar jobs back in the day, even though my father was careful to always keep us separate, on two different crews. But Nick, he thought he was so clever—special somehow. Better. And my father, well, he admired the git for some reason, and he didn’t care that I knew it either. He purposely kept us apart, Nick and me.
“The boys told me once that Nick had requested I never serve on his crew, even though we’d never met and only knew each other by reputation. He must’ve felt threatened by me, knew it was just a matter of time before my father tossed him aside for his own flesh and blood. I just had to prove myself first, and do what Nick had failed to do. Then, I thought, my father would finally be proud of me.”
“What could you
do that Nick couldn’t?”
“Not couldn’t,” he replied. “Wouldn’t. There’s a difference.”
My heart ticked up tenfold and suddenly felt lodged in my throat. “What was Nick supposed to do?”
Greg’s mouth turned up at one corner, as did one brow. “Why, deliver his brother, of course, on a fucking silver platter.”
“No!” I cried and shook my head. “He would never have agreed to do that. Never!”
“Mm, I don’t believe you knew your late brother-in-law well enough to judge, Mrs. Karras.”
“I know because of Tyler, because he believed in Nick, because his brother sacrificed everything to save him.”
“Only because he grew a conscience, but that wasn’t until the very end. You see, Nick and my father made a deal early on, long before your husband ever knew of Nick’s involvement—one sibling for the other, Nick’s brother in exchange for his sister. That was the deal and what my father wanted all along. Dmitri knew Nick would sacrifice his brother if he believed my father was targeting his sister. It was a test, a way to get at your husband, that whole lesser-of-two-evils thing,” he explained with a wave.
Then he rolled his eyes. “But my father—still angry and resentful—proved impatient and overzealous, and Nick, unreliable. I think that’s what they call a clusterfuck, Mrs. Karras.” As if exhausted, Greg plopped down into the matching chair next to the sofa, and, closing his eyes, let his head fall back with a sigh.
“You know, your husband was supposed to be the one to drive to the airport that day his parents and sister died, not Nick. We saw to it that Nick was suitably inebriated just hours before. But your husband,” he said, his head shaking in tired disgust, “being the omniscient prick he is, insisted his wayward brother live up to his obligations.” He opened his eyes and glared at me. “Funny how that turned out, wouldn’t you agree?” He snorted a chuckle and tapped his fingers along the upholstered arms.
“My father was none too pleased, mind you. Wasn’t supposed to go down quite like that apparently. Afterwards, Nick got all spooked, refused to cooperate until my father struck a new deal, a deal that did not include his brother, though he waffled a bit for personal reasons. I wasn’t privy to it, but…seemed like Nick had some sway over the old man, a bargaining chip of some sort. He made Nick Avtorityet,” Greg said in perfect Russian, “Captain—over me, before me,” he stressed. “Seems Nick was being groomed for Obshchak.”
With what looked to be a tear in his eye, Greg waved his hand, unwilling to elaborate the significance of that, but I got the impression it was important, and that it hurt Greg that his own father would position Nick over him.
“They became close, my father and Nick, sharing secrets and…bonding or whatever. But it didn’t last. No way it could, really. My father wouldn’t—or couldn’t rather—let go of Tyler, the idea of bending him to his will, then breaking him. For whatever reason, he didn’t seem to want to hurt Nick in the process, but finally, my father found a way.
“Unfortunately, Nick caught on. Turns out he wasn’t as stupid as we thought.” Greg pursed his lips. “If it weren’t for the first Mrs. Karras meeting her unfortunate end, he might not have become so suspicious of my father. But, turns out, Nick had a thing for his brother’s wife.” He shrugged. “Who knew?”
I stared at Greg, stunned, unable to fully grasp what he was implying. I stood slowly and closed the gap between us, taking a shaky stance in front of him, my hands fisted together in front of me.
“W-what are you saying? That…that your father was responsible for…for everything? Their parents and sister? Ty’s wife and child? Everything?”
Greg didn’t answer. He didn’t speak or nod or shake his head or anything. He just sat there, staring back, his eyes hooded with bored disinterest.
I reached for the arm of the sofa to steady myself. The room felt as if was spinning. Certain I would puke, I pressed my hand to my mouth and collapsed back onto the couch.
“Nick knew?” I whispered. “But…that makes no sense.”
“It does if Nick blamed his brother for everything—the loss of his freedom, his family, the woman he loved yet couldn’t have, whom he felt Ty had let down. It was reason enough. Nick was bitter. Bringing down the favored son felt right. But then Golden Boy cracked, and you, my dear, were the hammer.
“After that, Nick vacillated again. Seems he was a tad conflicted. But, as you know, in the end, he chose his brother. So my father made sure he paid for his defiance. Still, the one person he wanted all along got away. Your husband. And I paid the price for that.”
“How do you figure that?” I demanded.
“Because that was the beginning of the end. The indictment and trial created a vacuum, a power struggle. With my father in jail and Alexi dead, my life was on the line, in jeopardy from those left behind. So my father sent me away, back to London.
“I lost everything I’d been working so hard for—for years!” he screamed. “All because of Nick and Tyler Karras. And then your husband…” Greg seethed through gritted teeth, “he actually had the gall to take the stand and lie to the feds with his testimony against my father. He killed him, you know. Dmitri is dead because of him!”
Greg grew very quiet then. His eyes filled with tears as his chin quivered like a young child’s. And he scowled at me with more contempt than I’d ever seen in any man’s eyes. But then he stood and straightened his clothes, smoothing over his pain and rage before he turned for the double doors. He grabbed both handles, but stopped and looked over his shoulder at me with his brow raised.
“Tyler Karras will pay, as will you. That’s why we’re here,” he declared then pulled the doors wide and swept through.
I felt my blood run cold in his wake.
CHAPTER 36
Tyler
Sidorov spent the next fifteen minutes on the phone while Ezra tried to calm me down, not that there was anything he could say or do that would make me feel any better. Images of Hannah being held against her will continued to flash through my mind. My God, she was almost full-term. I feared not only for Hannah, but for our child, as well. These people had just beheaded a man. They had no sense of human decency. They knew no boundaries.
My only hope was that they planned on using her to negotiate some kind of deal, which meant they would need her alive. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt her, or the baby, to influence my cooperation. My gut twisted at the thought of how far they might be willing to go to expedite that end. With my head in my hands, I groaned aloud.
Maks crossed the room and patted my shoulder. “Come on, Ty, it’s time to go. Conner’s been released. He’s in custody downstairs.”
With my elbows still on my knees, I glanced up. “What about Hannah?”
He waved me up. “We’re working on it, but for now, we’ve got to get you out of here.”
I stood and faced him. “I’m not going anywhere until I know what the FBI plans on doing to find my wife.”
“I’m trying to figure that out, but I can’t until I know you and Conner are under guard somewhere else, away from the public.”
“Where then?” I asked.
“We have a safe house in West Seattle just off Alki. You’ll have two agents on you at all times. Just until we locate Hannah, then we’ll move you again. All right?”
He stared while I wrestled with the part of myself that told me to run straight back to Rush Hour. But, with Aaron’s murder and a bullseye now on his back, I couldn’t imagine Greg still being there. So I gave up what little control I thought I might have and nodded.
With a heavy sigh, I followed Maks to the door. Ezra brought up the rear, his hand a comforting touch at by back. Maks knocked and a single door cracked open, allowing him and the gorilla guarding it to exchange a quick nod. King Kong mumbled into his cuff and signaled with a wave. Two seconds later, another lineman appeared at his side. They pushed the double doors wide, and Maks passed between them. He glanc
ed over his shoulder and waved me to follow. His apes closed in on my left and right, each with a hand above my elbow as they bulldozed me through the chattering hallway crowd.
With all four men surrounding me, I could barely see where we were going. I was swept down the switchback of the emergency stairwell and into the entry lobby. Conner stood stuffed in a corner near the front doors with yet a third colossal suit guarding him. Even at six-one, Conner had to teeter on his tiptoes and wave back and forth just to peer around his sizeable escort who stood in front of him with his legs spread, his arms slightly raised, and his hands stretched wide to keep Conner in place. The boy’s battered face turned from curious to angry when he spied me marching toward him with my own wall of well-dressed protectors surrounding me. Maks tapped Conner’s guard over and stepped to the side so I could face my stepson head-on.
“What the fuck is going on?” he hissed, the look from his guardian warning him to speak quietly.
“Just precautions, for our safety,” I answered, knowing I had a lot of explaining to do.
“From what?” Conner insisted.
Maks waved a low hand between us as he glanced around the lobby. “Not now,” he said. “We have to move.” Then he glanced up at his men. “You ready?” he asked, and they each nodded without a single word. “Let’s roll,” Maks finished and swept on ahead.
Careful of the boy’s casted arm, Conner’s man pulled him from the corner and pushed him in line behind Maks, with me and my defenders hot on his heels, and Ezra still at my back. The heads and eyes of all four agents swept back and forth as they rushed us through the front entry and into a long, black SUV idling curbside, its windows glazed with an ebony shield.
With Maks in the front passenger seat and Conner stuffed into the third row with his sentry, I was left sandwiched between my two hulks in the center row, leaving Ezra standing alone out on the sidewalk as both doors closed in his face. Maks slid his sunglasses onto the thin bridge of his nose and rolled his window down halfway.
Leverage (The Mistaken Series) Page 23