by SR Jones
Not that she wants to go, but it’s a good thing she’s on the same page as me because if she wasn’t I’m not sure what would happen. And the thought scares me.
I turn from the mirror and tell myself to get a grip. Allyov used to say I was a true Russian, and more Russian than Ukrainian. When I asked him why, he said I suffered with the melancholy of mind all true Russians did. He said we are a beautiful nation, but a sad one.
I’ve had enough of being sad. I want to feel the sun and the light, and I want to do it with Violet.
I’ve had the house valued, and it’s worth more than I thought. I’d make what I put in and more if I sold it. But I’d make even more, long term, if I rented it. You can charge a fucking fortune for renting out a place like this.
Not only to tourists. But also to film and television companies. My research shows they’d pay a fortune to film in a house like this. An absolute fortune.
My investments are performing well. I have a broker I use for some of my investments, and he puts them in a variety of funds. But I also research the markets and do my own investing. I see him as a backstop in case one day I make totally the wrong call.
So far, I haven’t.
If you watch the news, keep abreast of events, and have good knowledge of the money markets, you can make a killing. I also think having a grasp of history helps.
Maybe it’s wrong for me to use a seemingly innate grasp of these things to make money, but money is a means to an end. For some it is about power, I don’t care about that. For me, money is freedom. It means I can walk away from something if it isn’t working for me because I can survive, for a long time if need be, from the profits I’ve made.
So I don’t feel guilty for playing this game, but I also don’t fool myself. The money I’ve earned, and made, doesn’t make me any better than anyone else. I once saw a young woman wearing a t-shirt that read, You might be winning the rat race, but you’re still a rat. I liked it, made me smile. Now, this rat is done. I’m getting out of the race for good.
My only fear is how the other vermin in this game will react to my decision.
The night comes around, and after eating some bland soup from a can, and trying not to smile at Violet forcing down Justina’s fish pie, I yawn loudly and say I’m tired. It’s not a lie. I am. Exhausted more like. It’s as if because I’ve finally stopped chasing revenge, all the adrenaline and anger fueling me for years has simply left, leaving me deflated and tired out.
Maybe it is the injury and the pain killers making me feel this way, or maybe I’ve been running on adrenaline for way longer than even I realized.
Violet follows me up the stairs and says she’ll help me into bed.
“Sleep with me tonight,” I ask her.
“What if I hurt you?”
“You won’t. I thought about it. We can watch a movie, and then I’ll put a pillow between us so we can’t roll together. I want you in my room. In my bed.”
“Okay,” she says. And it’s as easy as that.
I smile at her and inwardly curse. I need to stop fucking smiling for a few days. It hurts. The irony is, I hardly used to smile at all, and now it’s agony to do so, I find my face forming the expression all the time.
“I’ll go and grab a couple of things,” she says.
Two minutes later, she’s back with her toothbrush and a t-shirt of mine she wears as a nightdress. I love her wearing it, but I would rather have her naked.
I’ve already cleaned my teeth, and it’s interesting with a broken jaw, and I’m in bed naked.
She climbs onto the bed, and she makes an elementary mistake. She’s wearing no underwear. As she crawls up the bed, the t-shirt rides up giving me a perfect view of one delectable ass cheek.
I can’t resist, and I smack it smartly. She squeals and turns to me, face flushing. “What’s that for?”
“Do I need a reason?”
“You’re … you… Oh, you’re just.” She clearly doesn’t have an answer as to what I am, but I do.
“I’m starving,” I tell her.
She frowns at me. “Soup isn’t a decent meal for a man of your size, but you missed a bullet with the fish pie.”
“I’m not starving for food,” I say.
“Oh.” Now the cheeks on her face match her ass. She’s flushing a gorgeous shade of pink.
“You’re injured.” She looks down at my leg.
“Why don’t you do all the work then?”
“I’d risk hurting your leg.”
I look down at my leg. “Not if I close them, and then you get up here and straddle me … wide.”
I pull her in for a kiss, taking care to keep it extra light. These injures seriously suck because they’ve messed with our fucking big time.
“My injury is nearer to my knee, so if you ride me backward, you won’t be touching that area at all.”
“Backward?”
The way she says it has me busting out laughing.
“Yeah, backward. Straddle me facing forward, away from me, down the bed, and angle yourself up high so you’re not near my lower legs.”
“Okay,” she giggles, and it’s adorable.
“Take this t-shirt off too. I want to see your naked body.”
She does as I say, pulling the t-shirt off and then climbing over me.
“No, not yet.” I stop her as she starts to push the covers down away from my crotch.
“Come up here first, and let me make sure you’re ready for me.”
She does as I say and straddles my face. I want to taste her so bad, but can’t. So instead, I use my fingers to part her folds and simply look at her, taking her in.
“Andrius.” She says the word with some protest to it.
“What?”
“What are you doing?”
“Looking at you. You’re so fucking beautiful.”
I decide to do something because she’s still shy about some aspects of sex, and if I keep looking at her like this, she’ll probably freak out and put a stop to the proceedings.
I stroke her beautiful clit, taking care to be gentle until she starts to get into it, her sex getting wet, and her legs starting to tremble a touch. Then I pinch it to see how she reacts, and she gives a gasp and the leg tremble increases. I file it away like I do all the things I’m learning about her and what she likes.
I keep at her clit with my thumb and push two fingers inside her. She’s wet and tight and hot, and Lord God, I can’t wait to feel her around my cock.
When she’s into it big time, breathy gasps and little moans escaping her, I pull my fingers out, lick them, and tell her to turn around and ride me.
She stares down at me for a moment, and says, “As soon as your jaw is mended, I’m going to kiss you so hard.”
And I’ll totally hold her to it.
Violet turns herself around and straddles me. Her gorgeous ass is facing me, as is the beautiful curve of her back and her long fair hair. I’m expecting her to take it easy, but she impales herself on me in one slow slide, stealing my breath.
When she starts to move, I swear I see stars. I realize as I watch her that she’s not sitting down fully on the downward stroke to extra protect my injured leg, and I want to grab her, pull her under me, and fuck her slow and easy for hours while I watch her. I can’t, though, and this is good. It’s so fucking good.
It doesn’t take long before I can feel the electric current zinging at the bottom of my spine that tells me I’m going to come, and she hasn’t yet.
“Stroke yourself, baby,” I tell her.
“Don’t need to,” she pants back. “I’m … oh … Andrius… God.”
She comes around me, and her clenching muscles set me off.
The way she gets off me, so careful not to hurt me, but also graceful despite the odd positions she’s contorting herself into, makes me smile. Motherfucker, I’ve got to stop doing that.
“You could have been a gymnast,” I say.
She scoots up the bed and lays against
me. Her hands are under her head on my chest in a prayer position, and such a fierce and overwhelming sense of protective love fills me it takes my breath away.
“Hey, Violet.” I tip her chin up so she’s looking at me.
“Hhhhmm.” She’s also sated and relaxed now.
I was going to make a big speech, apologize for not saying it before, but it doesn’t feel right in the moment. I simply want to tell her.
“I love you,’ I say.
She goes still. So fucking still that for a horrible moment, I think I’ve made a massive error and maybe she’s planning to leave me or something.
“I love you too, Andrius.” She lifts her mouth to mine and places the gentlest butterfly kisses over me.
It’s torture because I want to devour her, and I can’t. Stupid fucking jaw.
I wrap my arms around her and enjoy a rare feeling of peace.
“So this fucker thinks he can do this and get away with it. We’re all behind you, Andrius. We need to take him out. Piece of shit.” Gregory is sat next to Allyov furiously chewing gum because he’s trying to give up smoking.
“The problem is, he wants to do business with us,” Allyov says. “This is bad what happened to you, Andrius. He shot you for something I did to him, and that’s not okay. However, he’s been in contact, and he now believes the matter is resolved. He did, when I pushed him, say you can take a baseball bat to one of his guys, if you so wish.”
I stare at Allyov and know I’ve made the right fucking decisions.
You’re like a brother to me, Andrius. Yeah, right.
I decide to fuck with him for a little while. I shake my head. “I don’t think agreeing to those terms is sending the right message. After all, I’m your right-hand man now, right? Like family. If I accept merely beating up one of his underlings, we look like pussies.”
“He’s right,” Gregory says, then shuts his mouth when Allyov turns a look of pure evil on him.
“What’s going to happen is I’m going to break his legs, and then we can do business with him.” I bite back a smile as Allyov’s jaw works.
“You break Boris’ legs and there will be no doing business. You know this. He will come after us with everything he has; it will be all out war.”
“Maybe it’s better to take him out?” Gregory speaks again, but with less certainty. “How can we trust him after what he did to Andrius.”
Allyov sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Because … what he did to Andrius is part of our code. He won’t do anything else now. He’ll work with us. And he has much of the arms market cornered. A tie-in with him in this market will make our two organizations the ruling controllers of the arms trade.”
It won’t. I don’t tell Allyov this, not yet, but he has a war coming.
Last night, I had a call from my Greek friend, Alesso. He’d heard word the Italians want some of the action and are not happy to see it carved up between Russian groups.
I will give him a heads up, though, about the pile of shit coming his way even though the motherfucker doesn’t deserve it. Before that, though, I’m about to do him the biggest favor of his life. And then walk away for good.
One last favor.
One last job.
The last hit.
My trade with him: I’ll save him, and he’ll owe me, and I’ll use it to walk away.
“Andrius, I know this is hard for you to swallow,” Allyov mutters. “It is hard for me too, but I swear if my own son or brother had been treated this way, I’d ask them to swallow it down for the greater good.”
Maybe it’s why his son is always in fucking rehab. I don’t say anything, simply stand with my hands crossed in front of me, legs wide, as I wait for him to go on.
“You’ll be well compensated. We’ll discuss it in private, but no man of mine gets hit this way and isn’t compensated for it.”
I have more money than I know what to do with, and he thinks he can pay me and make this all okay?
I started this to get vengeance for my murdered family, but I got in too deep. Caught up in the sticky web of the loyalties and counter-loyalties of this kind of life.
With Kyrylo dead. I only have Artem Antonich remaining to go after, and I’d rather have Violet and a life with her now than revenge on the past. Even Boris, who has fucked me up, is getting off without any consequences.
Why? Because there’s something … someone who matters more to me than making that prick suffer.
I’ll recover.
I go after him, and I open Violet and Justina up to being possible targets.
I glance to Alexei and Misha. They’re packing, but so am I. My trusty Colt 1911 .45. Allyov thinks this is a friendly meeting, and as far as he’s concerned, we’re still partners. It’s not like the time I requested a meeting with him to discuss Violet; this is normal shit. Everyday stuff, and I regularly conceal carry.
I doubt Gregory is carrying, and Allyov will have a handgun in his desk because he hates carrying them on his person if he doesn’t have to. Some other phobia of his about shooting himself accidentally to add to the germaphobia and the fear of nut butters.
“I don’t want compensation,” I say.
Allyov’s brow draws down. “What?”
“Yeah, don’t want it. I also will leave Boris alone. I have information too, which both you and Boris will find of vital importance. But then … I’m done.”
Allyov gives a short bark of laughter. “Done? What do you mean done? People aren’t just done. You don’t simply walk away from this. You know far too fucking much, my friend.”
“Listen to me.” I lean forward, hands on the desk braced on my knuckles. “I’m finished. I won’t talk. Think about it, I’d be incriminating myself to a fucking insane degree if I did, and I’m simply going to walk away. It can be done, and I’m about to do it. I won’t even be in this country.”
Allyov stands, jerking his chair back.
“And I have information for you that means you’ll owe me more than you can ever repay. Enough to buy my freedom with, I’m sure you’ll agree, once I share. I want to go and spend some time in the sun, to properly recover. I’m always going to be there for you if you ever really need me. But … day to day? I’m done.”
Misha transfers his weight from one foot to the other. It’s a tell, and I brace myself to move, and move fast.
“What fucking information? And where will you go?”
I shrug. “Not sure yet, but I want to leave England, and recuperate.”
Allyov watches me for a long beat. “How about you work on a management basis? You’ve got business brains.”
“No. I want out, Sergei. But I do have my parting gift. One which I think you’ll be extremely interested in.”
“Oh, yes.” He pauses and laughs. “It’s not a girl, is it?”
I’m tempted to say no, of course not, because I’m not a psychopath, but I don’t.
“It’s just the information I promised. You have a very leaky organization, my friend, and someone has been talking.”
“Boss, this is bullshit. He’s a cheeky fucking cunt.” Misha is flushed, and his hand is now openly on his weapon.
“Shush, Misha.” Allyov closes him down with two words.
“Boss.” Misha’s tone holds a hint of desperation.
I’m not even looking at him, but my peripheral vision is fucking awesome, and the moment the muscles on his arm bunch in preparedness to move, I pull my Colt out and fire two shots straight in the chest.
“God.” Allyov falls back in shock, stumbling over his chair behind him and falling to the ground.
Misha is already down, and Alexei has drawn his weapon. I’ve already got the Colt trained on his forehead.
“Drop it.”
Allyov stands, and his eyes are wild. “What the fuck have you done?”
“Saved your fucking neck.” I move toward him, gun still on Alexei, watching Gregory too, and making sure Allyov doesn’t lunge for his desk drawer.
“Mi
sha has been selling information on you, as well as generally flapping his lips.” I walk over to Misha and kick him, glancing down at him to make sure he’s not breathing. He isn’t. Be a fucking miracle if he was, seeing as he’s not wearing a vest, and I’ve double tapped him in the chest.
Happens, though, and best to be safe.
I look up, and Alexei is still itching to go for his gun, and Allyov is staring at me with his mouth hanging open. “He’s been with me for years.”
“Time is no indicator of loyalty,” I retort.
“I presume you have proof.”
“Yes. I have a recording of Misha giving away details of the route you plan on taking for some of the arms you’re going to ship. The man he’s talking with is high up in the Italian Mafia. They want their share, and they want revenge for you taking over some of their New York business. They’ve been using a ship flying under the Belize flag to basically take your shipment.”
I throw a disc on the table. “It’s all on there.”
I owe Alesso and Damen so fucking much. They bought my freedom with this information.
“Shit.” Allyov pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly. “I’m going to need you now more than ever.” He fixes me with a pleading look.
I shake my head. “No, I can’t. I’m fucking done, Sergei. You have to let me go. I’m finished. I’ll always be loyal to you, and I’ll always be friends with the men who got me this information, so you can rest assured if anymore ever comes my way, I’ll be straight on the phone to you. These friends, they have interests that match your own, and I’ll act as matchmaker if you want? And like I say, I’ll always help out if things ever get truly fucking bad for you, but I fucking need this.”
“You have some interesting friends,” he says.
“Yes, I do. I also have some very dangerous friends, and some of those friends owe me. Anyone comes after me or mine, I intend to collect, and they’ve sworn to make good on their debt.”
“I won’t come after you.” His shoulders slump a little, and he suddenly truly looks his age. “But I will keep you to your promise if I ever need you, purely in emergencies only, of course.”
