“Ah, Maxim. It’s good to see you. How is America?”
“Thank you for having me, Grigoriy. You look well. America is good.”
“I hear you have made a good life for yourself. We are proud of you.”
“Thank you, Grigoriy.”
“You are like your father, Maxim. He was a good man. He obeyed the Vorovskoy Zakon. It was a tragedy when he died so young.”
Living by the Vorovskoy Zakon, or Thieves' Code of Conduct, was life to the Russian Mafia. Only fools broke its rules. My father died unexpectedly of a heart attack when I was a teenager.
My mother died soon after–I suspected from a broken heart. That left my younger sister, Inessa, and me orphaned. Grigoriy made sure she and I were okay, but certainly not out of the kindness of his heart. He was grooming me for bigger things.
“Sit, Son.”
Son. Another title I wasn’t crazy about. Others would have been too happy, delirious even to be called Son. But, I hated Grigoriy. He was a vicious little man with a gigantic chip on his shoulder.
I sat down. I had a feeling I was about to be grateful for the sturdy surface under my ass. His next sentence proved me right.
“It’s time you did more for us, Maxim.”
Fuck! I knew where he was going with the conversation. Money laundering wasn’t enough anymore. Grigoriy was about to up the stakes of the game.
“I’ve kept my word, Maxim. Did I not give you what you needed to start your own company in America? Have I not secured good business for you?”
Yeah, at a steep fucking price!
“You have, Grigoriy. And I will always be very grateful.”
You hateful bastard. If it weren’t for my import and export company, you would be without a legitimate means to launder your blood money.
I was young and stupid when I left Russia. I believed the man sitting across from me when he promised me, he’d never ask me to do anything I couldn’t handle. But what choice did I have? I refused to let Inessa grow up in such a ruthless world.
My sister was stunning. At the tender age of fourteen most men in the organization had their eye on her. I had to get her away from the vermin. So, I took the calculated risk. I never regretted my decision. Not until that very moment.
“Good. Come, have a drink with me. Tonight, we eat, we drink. Tomorrow, we will talk more. You like Tatiana? I will give her to you.”
Geez, that makes up for everything. Thanks, G!
7
ANGEL
Correction Officer Dupreez was on duty. He was by far the prickliest of the COs at the prison. Years of unexpected turn-aways and irritation had taught me to be careful in my preparations for my monthly visit with Peter Meyers.
Firstly, I was mindful not to wear clothes that resembled those of the inmates or the custodians. Nothing revealing was a given, but no one told me when I went the first time that I couldn’t wear a bra with wire in it, or clothes with metal buttons, so I was refused entry. It was super hard that day not to flip the CO in question the bird. Especially since I was a teenager at the time.
“Good morning, Officer.” I forced a smile.
“Ms. Harris,” he greeted with indifference.
Dupree seemed to be in a not-so-fucking-miserable mood. Ho hum, good news for me. We moved through the usual formalities without a hiccup. I was almost suspicious of my good fortune. The woman behind me wasn’t so lucky. No one had informed her that she couldn’t wear a wig. She was pissed! It paid to read the rules beforehand.
Peter was waiting for me when I entered the hall. I sat down across from him, as I always did.
“Hi, Angel,” he said and smiled.
“Hi, Peter. You look well. How are you?”