by A. Zavarelli
I back away from the house when I hear another one of those pops. Tears stream down my face as I turn to the street, thinking to run to the bus stop because where else would I go?
But then I see the Audi. It’s parked at the far end of the road, and I only see it because of another car’s headlights passing on the cross street.
And I’m grateful for not having been able to eat today. For having vomited everything I did eat back up because I feel sick. I feel sick as I run through the backyard and into the shadow of the woods that separate this property from the next.
I feel sick as I hear one more pop, and I know Nina won’t be calling me tomorrow. I know it like I knew Joshua wouldn’t make it out of the basement that last night. That he’d never see the light of day again.
I drop to my hands and knees then, dry heaving. I reach for my scarf, the one Joshua gave me, but it’s not there. I took it off on Nina’s bed, and in our rush, I forgot it.
I do the math again.
Lev works for the Russian mafia. I look down at the drive I’m still gripping and do some more math.
Nina’s dad probably stole this from them.
Shit.
Lev will recognize my scarf. And whether or not he knows I have the thumb drive, he’ll know I was at the house. He’ll realize I know he was there. And that I know what he did.
And he’ll come to return that scarf again. But this time, he won’t be inviting me to dinner. He’ll be putting a bullet in my head.
9
Lev
The pulse in my neck throbs as I shift the car into park and glance up the street. Andrei is already here, and he’s not in his car, which means he’s either already in the house or close to it. Shit.
He’s coked out and amped up, and I have no idea how this is going to go down. Vasily gave us very specific orders, but whether Andrei is capable of following them is another question.
I stuff my pistol into the back of my jeans and check the street before darting toward the house. Sure enough, when I creep around the back, the door is already split wide open.
I step inside, nearly tripping over a few scattered shoes. The place is eerily quiet, and I’m on high alert as I venture farther into the house. Fucking Andrei can’t wait two goddamn minutes. Now I have no idea what the hell I’m walking into.
When I turn the corner to the staircase, something cracks me in the back of the head, sending white-hot pain through my skull. Mother fuck.
I double over and blink a few times before William von Brandt tackles me to the floor from behind. I don’t even know where he came from. But from the shattered pottery around us, it’s apparent he tried to take me out with a fucking vase.
I elbow him in the gut and manage to knock the wind out of him long enough to regain my balance. Blood drips down my temple as I land three solid punches to his face and roll over on top of him. A scream reverberates off the walls upstairs, and William freezes. So do I. Motherfucking Andrei. What the hell is he doing?
“Andrei!” I yell for him, but he doesn’t answer.
This wasn’t the plan. All we had to do was come in here and take care of William. We were supposed to wait until they were asleep. It should have been a quick job. But as usual, Andrei is off his goddamn head, and shit’s going sideways really quick.
“Please,” William begs as I jam the pistol into his throat. “Don’t hurt them. They have nothing to do with this.”
“Where is the drive?” I bite out.
“I don’t have it.” He shakes his head. “I swear to you.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.” I slam his head into the floor as another scream echoes upstairs. This time, a gunshot swiftly follows it.
Son of a bitch.
William resumes his fight, struggling to free himself. He attempts to wrestle the gun from my hand as I clock him in the face three more times. I need to get upstairs, but I can’t just leave him here.
“Tell me where the goddamn drive is!” I wrap my palm around his throat and squeeze as I jam the pistol into his rib cage.
“I don’t have it!” he spits. “I’m telling you the truth. It’s gone. Please, my wife—”
I squeeze the trigger and blood explodes across my face. William’s chest begins to rattle, and blood gurgles between his lips as he shakes his head, still pleading with me even as he’s minutes away from death.
“You did this,” I snarl. “You made this bed for yourself. Talking to the goddamn feds? Stealing from Vasily? What the fuck did you think would happen?”
Another gunshot sounds upstairs, and this time, a sick feeling washes over me as my adrenaline starts to slow. Leaving William on the floor, I climb the stairs two at a time, pausing on the landing, where Elizabeth von Brandt is lying with a bullet wound to the head. Her eyes are wide open, and she’s far past saving. From Nina’s room, I can hear Andrei cursing under his breath.
Stepping over the dead body, I move down the hall and wipe the blood from my eyes before pushing open the door. But I’m already too late. Nina is lying in pool of her own blood, her pants torn off and her face beaten to a bloody pulp. She’s dead. Kat’s best friend is dead.
“What the fuck have you done?” I charge at Andrei and tackle him to the floor, slamming my fist into his face until the bones in my fingers splinter and his blood covers my knuckles.
When I finally manage to pull myself away, my chest heaves with the reality I can’t shake. He fucking killed them. He killed them both.
“The bitch bit me,” he groans, rolling around on the floor in pain.
“That’s the least of what you deserve.” I spit at him. “You fucking worthless sack of shit. Who told you to touch her? Who told you to kill them?”
He doesn’t answer. And when he stumbles to his feet, I consider throwing him out the goddamn window. How much would Vasily really miss him? How hard would it be to convince him that this waste of human space fucked everything up and William shot him? But even as I consider it, I know it’s only a fantasy. The unspoken agreement is that I need to keep Andrei alive and out of trouble. The minute he’s no longer breathing, I might as well sign my death warrant too.
“Go downstairs and check on William. Make sure he’s dead,” I tell him. “I can’t stand to look at you right now.”
“We need to find the drive,” he answers sheepishly.
“Don’t you think I know that?” I shake my head. “I’m going to clean up your fucking mess here, and while I do that, you can look downstairs. Do you think you can manage that?”
“Yes,” he grunts. “I got it.”
He disappears out the door, and my eyes drift to Nina. The urge to retch overtakes me, but I choke it back down as I consider what I have to do. I can’t think of her as Kat’s friend anymore. I can’t think of this in any way other than what it is now. Damage control.
But I also can’t leave her here like this. Disgraced and humiliated. Carefully, I dig through her dresser drawers and find a pair of pajama pants. It might not make much of a difference, considering what I’ll have to do now, but this is the last thing I can do for her.
I dress her and lay her back in her bed, covering her up. And for a full minute, I just stand there, wondering when this became my life. My chest is heavy when I drape the blanket over Nina’s face, but there isn’t time to consider how fucked up this situation is. At the end of the day, all I know how to do is get on with the job of surviving. Cleaning up Andrei’s messes and doing Vasily’s bidding. A burden I resent more and more with each passing day.
As I dissect the room, tearing through every possible hidey-hole for the drive, I fantasize about a different life. A life where I have the answers that brought me into this world in the first place. A life where my mother’s death hasn’t gone unavenged, and I can actually look myself in the mirror at night. But these are just empty thoughts, built upon a crumbling foundation. I’ve been working for my uncle for ten years now, and I am still no closer to having the answers I seek. The hope of leaving this e
xistence behind abandoned me long ago, but I’m still here, still functioning on autopilot. And right now, I’m not any closer to finding the drive that Vasily sent us here for in the first place. The drive that William von Brandt knew very well could sink us.
Just when I think I’ve turned over every inch of Nina’s room, something catches my eye. The familiar shade of pink from a scarf I know all too well. Ice coats my veins as I grab the ratty old scarf and bring it to my nose, inhaling.
Katerina.
She was here. But when? A glance at the window only intensifies the churning in my gut. It’s not fully closed, and just outside, a few strands of faded Magenta hair stick to the trellis. She left in a hurry.
Fuck.
My heart slams into my rib cage as I consider what might have happened if she hadn’t. But what’s worse is the fact she may have seen something or heard something. What did Nina tell her? Has she already called the cops?
My brain is firing off questions faster than I can answer them, but the only thing I know for certain is that I need to get the fuck out of here and find her, fast.
“Andrei!” I yell down the stairs. “We need to go. Have you found anything?”
“No,” he grunts.
“I have one more room to clear,” I tell him. “Start looking for some accelerant. Anything you can find.”
He mumbles something I can’t understand as I tear through the von Brandt’s master suite. But my search turns up nothing. There are only two possibilities left. Either the drive is no longer here, or it will go down in flames with the rest of the evidence. There isn’t time for anything else.
“This ought to do it.” Andrei appears with two gas cans he must have found in the garage.
I nod and take one of them. “I’ll handle the upper level. You get downstairs. Make sure to douse William, the drapes, anything that will burn.”
He limps away and does as I request without protest, still nursing his wounds from earlier. Vasily will probably have something to say about me beating his face in, but I’m long past giving a fuck.
I douse the carpet, the beds, and Nina’s body with gasoline. When Andrei shouts that he’s done downstairs, I grab the pack of matches I found in the bathroom and set flame to the beds and the carpet. Downstairs, I repeat the process on William’s body and the other places that Andrei points out. The smoke is already starting to fill the house, and when the fire alarms are triggered, I gesture for Andrei.
On our way out the door, he nearly trips over a muddy pair of shoes. The same shoes I tripped over on my way in. And it isn’t until he looks at them and his brows pinch together that I realize the scarf isn’t the only thing Kat left behind.
“Whose shoes are those?” he asks.
“Probably Nina’s,” I lie.
He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen her wear them. And she hasn’t left the house today, so why would they be muddy?”
The one time I need Andrei to be a dumb fuck, he starts piecing shit together.
“Then they’re Elizabeth’s. Who gives a shit? We need to go.”
“There was a scarf upstairs too.” His brows pinch together. “That drunk chick from the club. She had one just like it.”
“Andrei, we need to get the fuck out of here. The cops are coming,” I bark.
He takes one more long look at the shoes and then bolts out the door. I should be thinking about my exit strategy, potential witnesses, and a million other problems that have just presented themselves, but there’s only one thing on my mind now.
Andrei knows, and I am so fucked.
I told Andrei I would meet him back at the club, and he bought it for now. When I pull up to Kat’s apartment complex, I’m not entirely sure how this will play out. It’s not even dinnertime yet. People are still up, getting home from work and watching TV. It’s not like I can drag her out of here in broad daylight. But I can’t leave her here either.
My fist rattles the door in its frame before Rachel finally pokes her head out through the chain.
“What do you want?” She glares.
“I need to see Kat.”
“She isn’t here,” she hisses.
“Bullshit.”
“Look, asshole. I don’t know who you are—”
I slam my shoulder into the door without warning, and Rachel stumbles back in horror as I enter the apartment and shut the door behind me.
“Don’t scream.” I shake my finger at her when she opens her mouth. “I don’t want to hurt you, but if you make a scene, I’ll tape your fucking mouth shut.”
Her eyes dart to the door. She considers her options, but it doesn’t take her long to accept that she’s trapped.
“Kat isn’t here,” she repeats. “I don’t know what you want, but—”
“Where is she?” I glance down the hall toward her room.
“She bailed.” Rachel glares up at me. “I don’t know what’s going on. She just came home, freaked out, and said she had to leave. She grabbed a bag of clothes, and she was gone. That’s all I know.”
Christ.
I don’t want to believe it, but the empty silence in the apartment only seems to confirm Rachel’s account. If Kat was here, she’d be out in the living room by now, trying to defend her friend. That much I know.
“Show me.” I gesture for Rachel to move, and she hesitates.
“C’mon. I don’t have all fucking day. Show me her room.”
Finally, Rachel staggers down the hall, glancing over her shoulder every couple of feet to check if I’m still here. She doesn’t trust me, and I can’t say that I blame her.
“Satisfied?” She crosses her arms when we reach the end of the hall.
Kat’s room is in complete disarray. Clothes strewn across the bed, her dresser drawers open. She was in a hurry all right, which only manages to confirm what I suspected. She saw something she shouldn’t have, and now she’s in the wind.
“Where did she go?” I pick up one of her sweaters from the floor and toss it onto the bed.
“I’m telling you, I don’t know.” Rachel shakes her head. “She wouldn’t say. She was totally spooked by something, and she just kept telling me she had to go.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose to temper the headache I feel coming on. “Where are your garbage bags?”
“What?” Her eyes narrow.
“Where do you keep the garbage bags?” I repeat.
“In the kitchen.”
“Start folding her clothes,” I order. “Don’t try anything stupid.”
She sits down on the bed with an exasperated sigh and starts folding. I retrieve the garbage bags from the kitchen and return to help her. Kat doesn’t have a lot, but what she does have is in this room. And if I find her, I want to make sure she has the rest of her belongings. But more importantly, I need to know that nobody else will come looking for them here.
“Do you have somewhere else to go?” I ask Rachel as we stuff two bags full of everything Kat left behind.
“What do you mean?” She blinks. “I live here.”
“Not anymore.” I grab a wad of cash from my wallet and toss it onto the bed beside her. “It isn’t safe here for you either. You need to leave. Tonight. Do you understand?”
“What the hell is going on?” She swallows. “What did Kat get herself into?”
“She didn’t do anything wrong,” I answer roughly. “The only mistake she made was meeting me.”
“I knew you were fucking trouble.” Rachel glances around the apartment with a sentimentality I haven’t felt in years. Not since I had a home with my mother.
“Look, I’m going to lay it all out for you.” I tug the handles of the garbage bag shut and tie them together. “You pack your shit and leave. Find another place to live. Stay in a hotel. Do whatever you gotta do. But don’t come back here. Don’t call the cops. Forget you ever knew Kat, and as far as you’re concerned, you never met me. If you follow those simple rules, you get to live. It really is that fucking simple.”
“Who are you?” she whispers.
“I think you know who I am.” I offer her a dark look. “So don’t make me say it.”
“Where the fuck have you been?” Vasily snarls.
“I thought I had a tail.” My jaw flexes as I glance at Andrei, cowering in the corner while he nurses a whiskey. “I drove around the city for a bit to make sure everything was clear.”
Vasily seems to consider my words, nodding when he’s satisfied that I’m telling the truth. “What the fuck happened, Levka?”
“Ask your son.” I glare at Andrei. “He can’t keep his dick in his pants, and he was high as a goddamn kite. He lost his shit, and everything went sideways. There was nothing I could do.”
Vasily growls and begins to pace the length of the room. “And the drive?”
“We couldn’t find it.”
“I don’t like loose ends.” He stares at me with a stony expression. “You know that.”
“Then next time, send me and leave Andrei here to do what he does best.”
Vasily shakes his head. “Enough. I will deal with Andrei. For now, I want you scouring the city. Check everywhere that William von Brandt ever set foot in the door. We need to find that drive.”
I nod my assurances and turn to go, but he stops me. “There is something Andrei said. It concerns me.”
“What is it?” I turn to meet his gaze.
“He mentioned a girl who was at the club. Someone you took home. Andrei seems convinced that she was at the von Brandt’s house. She may have seen something.”
Tension bleeds into my muscles, and I can only hope Vasily hasn’t noticed. “I will take care of her.”
“No more loose ends,” he grunts. “Do you understand, Lev?”
“No loose ends,” I repeat.
“I want proof when it’s done. Something tangible. Don’t forget where your loyalties lie.”
Again, I force myself to nod.
“Nothing comes before blood, Uncle,” I answer solemnly. “I give you my word.”
Four Years Later