Sold to the Hitman(36)
“Do you like chicken?”
“Yes.”
“Rice?”
“Yes.”
“Vegetables?”
“Of course.”
“We can work with that.”
When the food arrives, I have no idea what it is or where to begin. He hands me a pair of long, skinny wooden sticks and tells me to use them instead of a fork. I look at him like he’s lost his mind, suspicious that he must be playing a trick on me. After he places his hand over mine and shows me how to place the chopsticks between my fingers and pinch pieces of chicken off the plate, I start to get the hang of it, though I never quite do it gracefully.
The rest of the day goes by smoothly, the two of us lounging around. In the afternoon, I fall asleep on the couch, and Andrei goes out to buy new bedsheets. When I wake up, he’s come back and changed into an exceedingly handsome suit, his hair slicked back. He gently urges me to get up and put on a gorgeous gown we bought yesterday.
“Where are we going?” I ask, rubbing my eyes sleepily.
“Wake up, sonnyy, we’re going to the opera.”
My eyes go fully wide at this announcement and I immediately leap off the couch, rushing to get dressed. I have never been to an opera, and I have no idea what to expect. Once or twice, my mother left the radio unattended, and I heard a couple songs being belted out by women with powerful voices. I could never tell what they were saying, but that didn’t subtract from the beauty in the least.
Andrei drives us to the massive, elaborate theater, my face frozen in an expression of overwhelmed awe the entire time. Andrei is gallant and prince-like in his suit, tall and noble in his bearing. I know everyone’s eyes are on us, even in the context of the expensively-dressed, high-society crowd. We settle into our seats and watch the opera, his hand wrapped around mine.
It’s an utterly magical night. I am amazed at the power and strength of the opera singers, the beauty of the sets, even the decorum of the audience. Everything is perfect, except…
During the third act, Andrei quietly disappears from my side, offering no excuse. He remains gone for quite some time. I am mostly too wrapped up in the gorgeousness of the opera to pay too much attention, but my husband’s absence does ring like a strange alarm bell somewhere in the back of my mind. Something is off, but I don’t know what, and I am too afraid to ask.
13
Andrei
I hate to leave my wife alone, even in the safety of the opera house. But I have ulterior motives for coming here. My hit on the Frenchman was sloppy, the only kill I’ve botched since becoming a professional. So it tears at my mind.
There’s no way I can risk exposing myself, not when Cassie’s well-being is on the line, so I’ve had to look into matters carefully. Which means slowly. If word gets around that one of the Bratva’s killers is looking into the hit, it’ll incriminate me. And that’s all it takes in my world to be undone. For good.
Finally a source turned up something, a Frenchman was in town with some pull, a rare thing. And he was at the opera, meeting with a powerful local connection about the death of his brother.
I make a detour along the private box seats until I find exactly the one I am looking for. There, I can see the slickly dressed Frenchman, with his silver-frosted tips sat with a sour expression, talking to someone out of my view.
“Mon frère! My own brother, killed in your city,” he says, anger welling up in the well-dressed European, his French accent thick as he spoke in English. “Killed by one of your own, a Russian,” he says with such distaste.
“Not every Russian in the city is on our payroll,” says the other voice, but I can’t see the face of the man saying it, he’s blocked by a red velvet curtain.
The Frenchman curses in his native tongue.
“That is not good enough, Kasym!” he says, but I don’t recognize the name. “Not after all the shit I covered up for you in Paris, and beyond,” he adds with such distaste. “You owe me. And more than that,” he says, grinding his teeth.
“Don’t say anything you’ll regret, Pierre. I know,” Kasym says, holding out a hand bedecked in more rings than any man ought to wear. “I will protect the flow of the goods. And if that means I have to gun down half my fellow russkiye to find the man who did your brother in, then I will. That is a promise.”
Pierre stiffens a little, but then seems to soften, giving a nod to Kasym.
“I have looked over you a long time, on behalf of your father, I consider myself like an uncle. Do not let me down, Kasym. I want this man to suffer. To see everything he ever had taken from him. Anyone he has ever loved to die before his eyes, just as I heard my brother die.”