Then he looked straight at me and said, “Pora, moy drug.”
I had no idea what that meant, if it was a green light for me to take the shot. My orders were to wait until Greg had cleared the area, but before I could make sense of any of it, a single, low caliber shot rang out, and Meier crumpled to the ground next to Greg. With his hands wrapped around his bloodied knee, Meier writhed and cursed in pain. Greg gawked at him in shock as he scampered away backwards. His man lifted Greg to his feet then pushed him back into the jungle of flowers. Greg’s initial shock morphed into genuine outrage.
Lebedev’s guard quickly surrounded their boss, pushing him back toward the mausoleum with their weapons drawn. All eyes scanned the surrounding area as guns swept back and forth. I pulled my rifle up and slipped into the shadows, daring only brief glimpses around the thick concrete column at my back.
What the fuck is going on? Who took that shot?
The stunned silence under the canopy gave way to profanity, with shouts of furious indignation from both Greg and Lebedev, but their anger was instantly allayed as one of Lebedev’s brutes hauled a struggling form from the woods on the opposite side of the tent.
I ducked back into the darkness and swore to myself. “Oh God, no. Fuck!”
It was Conner he dragged toward the tent. Blood oozed from his nose and covered his mouth and chin. With two fingers, the thug restraining him dangled a small silver handgun out in front as he pushed Conner to his knees, though he refused to release the boy’s wrists. Conner howled in pain, his already-broken limb twisted awkwardly behind him.
Greg sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes wide and round. “Maguire? What the bloody hell are you doing here? What is going on?”
“You know this boy?” Lebedev drilled Greg. “He’s one of yours?”
“Kill him!” Meier ground painfully through gritted teeth.
Lebedev glanced at his accountant rocking back and forth on the ground. “Shut up,” he said then turned back to Greg. “Well?” he ordered.
Greg, still in shock, shook his head and stuttered, “No…I-I mean…yes, I…I know him, but…no, he’s…he’s not one of mine.”
With everyone’s attention on Conner, I repositioned with my eye on the scope and my finger on the trigger, ready to kill should any of them threaten Conner’s life. I wanted to rush out into the fray, but doing so would only put us both at further disadvantage. At least now I had the upper hand should things get even more out of control. With my heart pounding in my ears, I calmed my breathing as Lebedev leveled his gaze at Conner.
“Who sent you, boy?” he asked. “Tell me now and my men will kill you quickly. Make me pull it from you and you will suffer as you never have before.”
Conner raised his terror-stricken face to Lebedev. “No one sent me. I came to kill that piece of shit,” he spat with a nod at Greg. Then he crumpled a little and choked out, “Greg’s responsible. He killed Katy, and he killed our child.”
Greg shook his head when an angry murmur rumbled through Lebedev’s men. But Lebedev, his brow scrunched in confusion, kept calm, his attention still on the boy at his feet.
“Let him go,” he first ordered his man, then, “What are talking about?” he demanded of Conner.
His arms now free, Conner cradled his cast against his chest as he glanced at Katy’s portrait before him. “My name is Conner Maguire,” he said, and Lebedev sucked in a startled breath. “Leo Vasin was my best friend. Katy and I became…close after he died. She was pregnant with my kid, until that bastard destroyed them both,” he told Lebedev, though his eyes fumed at Greg. “I want him to pay for what he’s done.”
Lebedev stared down at Conner. “Maguire,” he repeated. “She spoke of you.” He choked up, and a single tear escaped the corner of his eye.
“He lies,” Greg interrupted in a panic. “He’s the son of my enemy, the man who killed my father. He’d say anything—”
“Silence!” Lebedev roared, and two of his men reclaimed both Greg and his guard, holding them with guns to their sides. Then Lebedev helped Conner into a chair. Once there, he pulled up his own in front of the boy. “Katya admitted she was pregnant,” he explained tenderly. “I was angry at first. She was my only child. But I saw that she was excited to become a mother, and I hoped she might leave her wild ways behind and finally settle down. I believe she loved you, Conner Maguire.”
With those poignant words, the big man crumbled into a wave of tears, all hope of a future generation washed away in its wake. But his display of sorrow was brief, and not a moment later did Lebedev shake the anguish from his shoulders and sigh as he peered deep into Conner’s eyes. As strange as it was, they were two men bonding over the same loss.
Their moment was broken, however, when Greg squawked from the sidelines. “The boy is mad,” he said as his eyes darted from Lebedev to Conner and back again.
“He drowned her,” the boy countered. “To get you here. This is Greg’s mission.”
“No! You cannot believe a word he says,” Greg railed. Fear etched his brow in deep scores as beads of sweat sprouted above his lip.
Lebedev stood, his fierce eyes trained on the sniveling Greg. “Bury them,” he ordered, and his men began to drag Greg and his bodyguard away.
Greg’s panic-filled gaze flitted in my direction. “Do it! Do it now!” he screeched, so loud I nearly tore the earpiece from my ear.
In alarm, Lebedev turned in the direction of Greg’s gaze, as did his remaining men, all four of them with their guns pointed in my direction.
I retreated behind the column once more. “Shit!” I swore, certain this was my last moment on earth, but then I heard Conner’s voice call out.
“No, wait, please! Stop!” he pleaded.
Worried they might be ready to pounce on the boy, I took a deep breath, and, with the gun out and my hands raised, I walked out from behind the stone pillar, surrendering myself. I closed all but the last ten feet between us. Conner was standing with his arms high, as well, but he appeared to be trying to keep Lebedev’s men from cutting me down. He’d skipped out in front of them, placing his body between them and me.
“Please, don’t shoot!” he begged. “He’s my stepfather! Let me explain, please!”
Lebedev’s hand shot into the air. “Ostanovka!” he bellowed, and the men lugging Greg and his guard halted in place at the edge of the canopy. To everyone, he motioned downward with his hands and said, “Kobury oruzhiye,” and they all holstered their weapons, though Greg’s captors refused to let go of their charges. The big man focused back on Conner. “You better start talking, young man, lest all four of you end up face down in freshly dug graves.”
Conner lowered his arms with a shaky sigh. “For months, my stepfather and I have been used as pawns in Greg’s scheme to reclaim control of your organization. He’s using my mother and me as leverage to force my stepfather to eliminate you, your accountant,” he added with a nod toward Meier, still in pain on the ground, “and several others he feels are in the way to reclaiming his so-called kingdom. But…” he said and paused with a slight but hopeful grin in my direction, “we’re safe now, out from under his thumb. Greg can’t use us anymore, Ty. Mom and Nicole are with Maks. It’s over. You don’t have to do this.”
Relief filled me, drowning out any other emotion that might continue to serve me in our still-precarious situation. But I couldn’t help it. I was overcome. With the rifle as a crutch, I dropped to the ground, my knees sinking into the wet earth.
“Not so fast,” countered a familiar voice, but with an unaccustomed edge.
Maks.
At first, I smiled, believing my reprieve complete, but when I looked in his direction, time ground to a halt, and my heart shattered into a million brittle pieces. Maks did indeed have Hannah, but her face was twisted in horror. She stood directly in front of Maks, a wire wrapped around her throat and secured to the end of a sawed-off shotgun held a mere twelve inches from the back of her head. Ma
ks’ hand was duct-taped to the handle, his index finger wired to the trigger. It was a fail-safe.
If Hannah moved, if Maks tripped or fell, if they separated the by smallest fraction, the gun would go off, and Hannah’s head would be blown from her body. But why? I didn’t understand. And neither, it seemed, did anyone else. As one second stretched into two, they all stared with mouths agape, all except Lebedev. He looked incensed. Unsure who to trust, I leveled my weapon at Lebedev before his men could reach for their still-holstered sidearms.
“Nobody move!” I commanded in a panic.
Unafraid, Lebedev pointed at Maks and Hannah and barked, “Who the fuck is this?”
Tears bubbled up, and his tortured eyes slowly closed as Conner tipped his head back. “My mother,” he sighed on a ragged breath.
Lebedev raised his brow high. “And her friend?” he inquired scornfully.
“Maks Sidorov, Special Agent, US Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Maks introduced, his ID in hand for all to see.
“FBI?” Lebedev asked Maks, his brow higher still. “You’re FBI?” He flapped his arms and snorted as he twisted from one side to the other. “Is this a joke? Am I being punked?”
“No joke, I’m afraid,” Maks offered, careful to keep Hannah between us. “Ty, kindly keep your weapon trained on Mr. Lebedev. Hannah’s life depends on it, my friend.”
My cool had long ago shattered, and sweat poured down my forehead. I swiped it from my eyes and my hands grew slicker still. The rifle trembled in my grip.
“What’s going on, Maks? What the fuck are you doing with my wife?”
“Listen to me very carefully, all of you. Alek, if you don’t want my friend Ty here to burn a hole in your head, you’ll instruct your men to peacefully relinquish their weapons. Conner, I want you to gather their sidearms and deposit them inside the mausoleum.”
When no one moved, Maks pressed the shotgun to the base of Hannah’s skull, making her scream and me rush toward Lebedev, my laser aligned between his eyes a mere foot away.
“Do it,” I hissed. “Do it now.”
Lebedev, fists curled at his sides, turned his head slightly but kept his eyes glued to mine. “Otkazat'sya ot svoyego oruzhiya,” he snapped at his men, then added, “Pryamo seychas!” when they didn’t move fast enough.
“Legko seychas,” Maks spoke, his tone a clear warning. “Easy now. Easy.”
Conner scrambled from one thug to the next, reached inside their coats, and carefully pulled their guns from their side holsters. With the four closest men disarmed, he approached the last two goons with Greg and his guard. Conner’s eyes locked onto Greg’s as he pilfered his captor’s sidearm, but when he reached in for the last weapon, Lebedev’s man swung his arm out at Conner, knocking him into Greg.
That move cost him valuable time, and in a split second, I moved my sites from Lebedev to his man and pulled the trigger, and before his lifeless body even settled to the ground, my weapon was already trained back on Lebedev. I swiped my eyes across my sleeve and heaved a quivering breath.
I’d simply reacted, thinking only of protecting Conner and preventing the situation from dissolving into chaos, Hannah’s life surely forfeit in the aftermath. I did what I had to, but bile still rose in my throat. I pressed my mouth onto my wrist to keep from puking. Conner bolted from the dead body at his feet, his eyes wide in shock. Walking backwards, he nearly collided into Lebedev before he bee-lined for the crypt and laid the surrendered weapons down.
“Now close the door,” Maks ordered.
Conner obeyed then retreated, keeping a safe distance from everyone. Hannah was crying with her hands at her mouth, but at least they were unbound. Maks leveled calm eyes at me. There was a message there, but I couldn’t decipher it. I didn’t understand what was going on, why he was using my wife so brutally, what part he played in this twisted affair.
“You got your way, Sidorov,” Lebedev said. “Now if you would be so kind as to tell me what the hell is going on, we might be able to salvage this mindless clusterfuck.”
“I doubt that’s possible at this point,” Maks said. “This is the end for you, I’m afraid.”
“It’s about time,” Greg added as he and his man skirted their way toward Maks. “But such a flair for drama, Maksim. My goodness, I had no idea.”
For a second, I allowed my weapon to track Greg, until Maks growled a warning, “Careful, Karras.”
I swept the rifle back onto Lebedev. “What the fuck, Maks? Whose side are you on?”
“He’s on my side, Mr. Karras,” purred a voice from my past.
My heart lodged in my throat, and my eyes snapped to the side for the briefest moment, but it was enough to confirm what I feared most to be true.
Dmitri Chernov was alive! How was that possible?
Even more unbelievable, Greg appeared just as shocked as I. He stopped dead in his tracks, his face white as a sheet, and his mouth sagged open in wonder as he locked eyes with his father. All Greg could manage was a soft shake of his head. At first, his eyes misted up and a slow smile spread across his face, but as he came to realize what his father’s return really meant, the grin faded, and the joy at being reunited with a long-dead father turned to hurt. It was the same soul-crushing pain I’d witnesses the day before when Greg shook my hand.
Duplicity. Treason. Betrayal.
As each treacherous knife ripped deeper into what remained of Greg’s bitter soul, I detected the protective shield he kept over his heart growing thicker, stronger.
Impenetrable.
And in that moment, I knew I had witnessed the birth of an even greater monster.
CHAPTER 62
Tyler
Greg took a tentative step. “Papa?” he called out, his voice high and unsure.
“Stay where you are, Grigory,” Dmitri ordered.
But Greg didn’t seem to hear him. He put his hand out as he took another step. “I don’t understand, Papa. You’re alive?” He shook his head. “Where’ve you been? Why wasn’t I told? Why did you keep this from me?”
“I’m sorry, Grigory. I couldn’t risk anything happening to you. If you’d been a part of this, you would’ve been at risk. That’s why I sent you away. It was the safest thing to do.”
Greg finally halted. “But…you trusted Maksim. Why not me, Papa? You saw I could take care of myself, in and out of the pit. Why couldn’t you trust me? Why Maks?”
“Maks was imperative to the operation from the very beginning. He set up everything, faked my death, snuck me out of the country, kept an eye on you. And now that I am ready to reclaim control, he will be at my right hand. Only he can keep the FBI from meddling in our affairs. You will learn a great deal from him, Grigory. Embrace this opportunity.”
Greg’s face twisted, though whether in anger or bitterness, I couldn’t be sure. He clamped his hands into fists at his side. “I set this whole thing up, Papa. Maks only worked in the background, to keep control over Maguire and Karras.”
“And he will see to it that they are taken care of, that your plan comes to fruition, and you remain safe from prosecution. His family is important to ours, my son. I have to honor our alliance. This has been a long time coming.”
Greg shook his head, his brow crumpled in confusion, pretty much like the rest of us. We all stood stock still and stared at the two men as they hashed out their family secrets. Lebedev’s lips were mashed into a severe line as he was forced to listen to his predecessors’ squabbling, while his men itched to wrestle back control. Maks stood in bored amusement, just waiting it out, as Hannah trembled at the end of his perilous leash. Even Meier stopped moaning to listen in. But I was growing more worried as the seconds ticked by, unwilling to be “taken care of” as Dmitri had so ineloquently put it. What the fuck did that mean anyway?
Conner was equally concerned. He kept glancing over at me nervously. He caught my eye and, with his own, directed me to his good hand stuffed into his jacket pocket. Pos
itioning his body so no one else could see, he opened his pocket and allowed me a glimpse at the small silver handgun inside. My eyes bugged out for a half-second before I focused back on Lebedev, but as soon as I could, I looked back over and gave Conner a small shake of my head. I feared he’d act out foolishly and put his and Hannah’s life in even greater jeopardy.
My attention was drawn back to Greg when he stomped his foot like a child.
He narrowed his eyes. “Maks has been well paid, Papa, just as you specified in your will. He doesn’t require any other compensation. He’s a means to an end, and I will not have him usurp what is rightfully mine, what I’ve worked for nearly five years to regain.”
“It is his, too, Grigory. If not for his family, your cousins could’ve assumed authority. They saw that Mikhail was dealt with, so that any claim his children might have had died with him. They are why we rose to head the Vory. They neutralized any risk Mikhail’s mutts posed to our sovereignty, as his only living heirs. And most importantly, Maks protected us when the federal government got too close. It was Maksim who took care of the meddlesome Agent Moody. He’d uncovered everything and was about to bring us all down, including you. Maksim kept your hands clean of that. He allowed you to manipulate strings, to control your puppets, and because of him, no scrutiny will be leveled on your shoulders.”
My blood turned to ice at Dmitri’s words, at learning it was Maks who so brutally murdered Aaron, and knowing exactly whose shoulders scrutiny would be leveled on. Mine. My nerves pinged with anxiety, and my weapon began to slip from Lebedev’s head.
“Uh-uh, Ty,” Maks scolded. “Keep your weapon up. You’re the only thing keeping his men from striking, and if they strike, so do I, and Hannah will suffer for it. Is that what you want, for your innocent wife to suffer yet again for what you’ve done, for who you are?”
Leverage (The Mistaken Series) Page 40
