“Well, technically it’s about helping his daughter, if that helps.”
“Which one?” he asks, suddenly perking up.
“Nadia,” I say, noticing the brief flash of pain that washes across his face. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen a crack in the perfect façade he always puts forth. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and he leans back in his chair, stone-faced once again.
“You should’ve lead with that,” he says with a laugh that sounds forced even to me. “What’s little Nadia gotten herself into?”
“I have no idea, and I don’t really want to know. Mikhail says for you to call him if you’re interested and want the details.” I grab a pen and scribble down the number on a sheet of paper. “You’re not under any obligation to help them, and as much as I hate the Bratva, Mikhail seemed like a decent enough guy. He didn’t seem to want trouble.”
When I make no move to go, Vadim enters the number into his phone and puts the paper through the shredder he has hidden under his desk. I imagine that gets a lot of use.
“Something else on your mind, Nikolai? I have another meeting after you, so you’d better just spit it out.”
“We have a confidentiality thing, right?” I ask, not wanting to say shit until I’m sure that what I’m about to say never leaves this room. I’ve spent my life carrying around the weight of what I did when I was eighteen, and I want to know if I can finally stop worrying. I need to make sure before I involve Moira in my life, because whether she wants to admit it right now or not, she is very much a part of my life, and if I have my way, she’ll always be a permanent part of it.
“Anything you say in here, stays in here. You have my word,” Vadim says, and the smooth, practiced way the words roll of his tongue in Russian tells me he’s said it a million times in his career.
“I did something back in Moscow before Dima and I fled, and I want to make sure that I no longer have to worry about the consequences from those actions.”
Vadim laughs at my cryptic message and says, “What’d you do, kill a man or something?”
When I don’t even give a small smile, let alone join in his laughter, he sits up a little straighter and says, “Who was it and did anyone see you?”
It’s downright eerie to see Vadim go so easily from laughing to talking about murder as if it’s a topic he discusses on a daily basis, which for all I know, he does.
“Ilya Fedorov and his best hitman, and no one saw me. Mikhail knows. He’s known all along, I guess, but he didn’t see me do it.”
He lets out a low whistle. “You’re the one who slit his throat? God, you must’ve been, what, seventeen? Eighteen?”
“I was eighteen, and the bastard deserved it for what he did to Sergei. They both did.”
“Does Dima know?”
“No, and he never will, Vadim,” I hold his stare until he looks away.
“Don’t worry, Nikolai. I never talk, remember?” He rests his forearms on his desk, and I can tell he’s switched fully over to lawyer mode. “You’re in the clear. I mean, no witnesses, and it was so long ago that even if they dug up the bodies, there’d be very little DNA left, and what did show up, we could easily explain away. What did you do with the murder weapon?”
“I took it with me and threw it into the Gulf of Finland when we escaped.”
He smacks his desk and gives me a big smile. “Perfect.”
“You were made for this job. You know that?”
The wolfish grin he gives me is answer enough. “So I don’t need to worry about this coming back and biting me in the ass?”
“No, not at all. The only thing you need to worry about is the Fedorov family, but it sounds like Mikhail is more than happy to let bygones be bygones. Consider yourself very lucky. Most Bratva leaders wouldn’t be so forgiving.”
“I’m aware,” I say, feeling some of the tension start to leave me. I’ve carried this worry around for so long that I know it’ll take a while before it’s finally gone, but at least I don’t have to worry about it endangering Moira. Now, I’m more anxious than ever to get back to her and make things right.
“Thanks for letting me know and for agreeing to help Mikhail.” I stand up and shove my phone back in my pocket.
“Don’t worry,” Vadim says with a wicked grin. “They’re going to pay dearly for my help. If Igor wants me to help his sweet daughter, then that bastard’s going to pay double and do some serious groveling.”
Seeing the look on Vadim’s face, I almost pity the damn idiot who crossed him. I give him a wave and walk to the door.
“I’ll send you your bill,” Vadim says with a laugh.
“I bet you will, you greedy bastard,” I say, before walking down the hall and out of his fancy building. Before I’m even to my car, I’m calling Moira again. When it goes straight to voicemail, I let out an angry groan and hang up. I don’t want to leave her a damn message, I want to talk to her, explain what happened, and apologize. I just want her back in my arms. Nothing is going to feel right until she is.