ANTON
“Where are you?”
Lev’s voice crackles through the car speakers. I shouldn’t have answered because there’s a thousand percent chance that all he’s gonna do is piss me the fuck off, but I have too many plans in motion not to.
“Out.”
“It’s the girl again, isn’t it?”
I take the corner hard and whip down the sloped street. Then I park opposite her building and look up at the window I know is hers.
The lights are on in the living room and kitchen. I can see a shadow move across the curtains. Even from down here, her silhouette is enough to get my dick hard.
“I came to get my phone back.”
“That’s not why you went,” Lev says shrewdly. “We both know that. This is not the kind of job you do yourself. It’s beneath you.”
“I’ve given you and Yulian enough to get done.”
“And when have you ever cared about our workload before?” Lev asks. I can practically see the gleeful smirk on his face.
“Is there an actual reason you’re calling?” I ask abruptly.
“There’s been a lot of chatter lately. The grapevine is buzzing.”
“About?”
“You,” he says. “Marina. Rodion. All your names keep popping up.”
“That’s not surprising.”
“But it is worrisome,” Lev retorts.
I roll my eyes. “Do I sound worried to you, sobrat?”
“Maybe you should be, for a change.”
Sometimes, I prefer speaking to Yulian. He is brash and boorish. Childish at the best of times. But he has a confidence that is infectious. And he believes in the Bratva above all else.
Lev, on the other hand, is a worrier through and through.
“Well, I’m not. I know what I’m capable of. I know what my men are capable of.”
“What if Rodion has us outnumbered?”
“It won’t matter.”
“Jesus, Anton. You sound like your father.”
He stops short the moment he says it, wondering if he’s overstepped some invisible boundary. He’s lucky I’m distracted right now. I watch Jessa crisscross the window again and again. It looks like she’s pacing.
No prizes for guessing what’s got her all worked up.
I wonder idly if she has the phone in hand and is prepared to hand it over, or if she intends to continue challenging me. I’m honestly not sure which I would prefer.
“I am my father’s son, after all,” I tell Lev. “What did you expect?”
“More caution.”