"I won't. How about I just put a fucking bullet in your brain instead?"
"Naah, you love me too much. Where the hell is Bazarnik, anyway?"
"Stop. Twirling. That. Fucking. Coin."
"Never gonna happen. So, where is he?"
"Where do you think he is? He's in Russia, blowing shit up in the diamond mines. It's the only place I can trust the fucking pyromaniac."
Glazov turned in Novak's direction, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankles. Lacing his fingers together behind his head, he gave his cousin his full attention. "You've piqued my curiosity, Novak. Why would you want me to call in an explosives expert to deal with this?"
"Technically, he's not an explosives expert. It's more of a hobby, really, and since you upgraded that incinerator into a full-blown crematorium … It's perfect. He likes burning shit up. Maybe it'd be fun for him to burn dead bodies up."
"Or, better yet, maybe even some live ones," Glazov drawled. "Far be it from me to not make certain my employees are having fun."
"I like the way you think. But, yeah, he's a Krysha-a roof-a 'cover', if you will. He's one of your most violent enforcers and the son of a bitch is cunning. When you get the diamond business established, you could use him to protect your retail presence from outside enemies. Your daughter-in-law can't be dealing with chemicals right now and you're already bringing in Viggo, the cleaner from Russia. Why not bring them in together? Then you get a two-fer."
"What in the hell is a 'two-fer'?"
"Two for the price of one, my man. Just because you have money, that's no reason to not be frugal."
"So now you're looking out for my finances? How admirable of you," Glazov muttered as he rolled his eyes. "But, seriously -- Bazarnik!? The man has spikes in his head and a tattoo on his face. Actual. Spikes. In his head."
Novak cocked his head to the side and looked at Glazov like he was sorry for him because he just wasn't getting it. "Seriously? You're really saying that to me?! I'm tatted, awled, and pierced every-damn-where -- including my fucking cock and balls."
"Oh, the balls are pierced now too? When did that happen?"
Novak shot Glazov a sly smirk and began rubbing the ever-present Russian coin between his thumb and forefinger as he waggled his eyebrows smugly. "You know how it is. Anniversary present for the little missus."
Glazov closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. Clearing his throat, he scoffed, "No, I wouldn't know anything about that. When it comes to anniversary gifts, Kathleen is content with baubles and crazy fucking in the playroom. And 'awled' is not a word in the English language-it's something you made up. I believe the correct term is 'body modification'."
This time it was Novak rolling his eyes as he shot his cousin a sardonic look. Glazov scowled in return before muttering, "The man likes hanging by huge hooks from the ceiling and sticking pins in women like they're fucking voodoo dolls. And as far as your cock and balls are concerned, I don't care if you fucking 'Bedazzle' 'em and tie them up with a pretty bow! Frankly, I make it a point of not thinking about your cock and balls. You've ruined that for me now, so thanks for that."
"You're welcome. By the way … tsk, tsk, tsk, the first rule of kink is to never judge someone else's."
Glazov's voice rumbled from deep in his chest as he replied through gritted teeth, "I don't need a lesson on kink etiquette, Emily Fucking-Post, and I'm not judging Bazarnik or his fetishes. I am, however, trying not to draw attention to myself or Bratva. My point is simply that he's a poster boy for trouble. He's the kind of guy a cop immediately pulls over because of his appearance."
"And I'm not?"
"The cops know better than that. And you know perfectly well you're indispensable around here-it's why you're so cocky. I've created a fucking monster."
"That's what she said." Novak grinned as he blew on his fingertips and rubbed them across his silk shirt.
"Novak … don't let it go to your head."
"It already has. Can't you tell? Or would you like to see – I have no problem showing you the new stuff. I mean, who knows, it might inspire you to--"
Glazov held up a hand, cutting him off. "Not going to happen. I swear, your ego enters the room before you've even gotten to the front door." A long silence, then, quietly, "I'll think about it--" Glazov jabbed his pointer finger at Novak. " – the Bazarnik thing. Not the other thing."