Leverage (35 page)

I peered at the mirrored image etched into the reddened flesh on my chest. It was a star, similar to a compass rose. I ran my fingers across it and recalled what Aaron had once told me of Vory tattoos. This eight-pointed star was one of the most common among them. Besides denoting rank, it branded me a killer at the behest of my boss, Greg.

This was his statement, his proclamation. I was his now, completely.

There was no going back. I could be killed just for having these tattoos. Though unofficial, I was now part of the Brotherhood, the
Bratva.

I...
was Vory.

Maks glanced back and forth between me, the road, and the paper in my hand. “Murder?” he asked. “What murder? What are you talking about? What is that?”

“It’s an itinerary,” I replied.

“For what? What does it have to do with Ty? And what goddamn murder?”

I looked over the names, locations, and directions listed on the paper then refolded it and stuffed it back into my pocket. “Before I tell you, I want the same deal you gave Ty.”

He snorted. “What deal? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Immunity. I want immunity from prosecution before I tell you anything else.”

“Why would you need immunity? Have you done something prosecutable?”

“I’ve no idea,” I said with a shrug. “I just need to know, before I say anything, that you won’t use it against me. Otherwise, I won’t tell you.”

“Again, that would be obstruction, Conner, and that
is
prosecutable.”

“No,
that
would be me invoking my right to remain silent, a right I was recently reminded of by the Seattle Police Department. So, what’ll it be, Maks, deal or no deal?”

He thought about it then said, “Fine, whatever. Now tell me before I change my mind.”

I was on the verge of spilling when I suddenly thought better of it. I had an odd feeling and wasn’t comfortable disclosing sensitive information from such a vulnerable position. Maks was the law, and he was armed. I was alone, injured, and completely at his mercy.

He’d driven into Georgetown, a rather rundown neighborhood near the county airport, but up ahead I saw a restaurant with a few people coming and going. I pointed toward it.

“Let’s stop there,” I said. “I’d rather sit down and talk face to face, if you don’t mind.”

“Actually, I do mind,” Maks replied.

“Sorry but…I’d feel better with a little…company around me. Besides, I’m starving.”

He eyed me with suspicion but turned down the alley next to the Jules Maes Saloon. “This better be good,” he warned as he parked the car. He unlocked the doors, and we walked into the restaurant. It was a casual place, dark but tidy, and surprisingly busy for a bar just after ten in the morning. That alone helped calm my nerves, and I didn’t feel at such a disadvantage.

We took a seat at a booth away from the crowd. A waitress placed two menus in front of us. Ignoring Maks’ glare, I studied my menu until the waitress returned. I ordered a burger and fries then followed the waitress’s stare as she turned her attention to Maks.

“I’ll have the same,” he ordered, “plus a couple IPAs, whatever you have on tap.” He said it with such calm authority, the waitress never even checked my ID. She simply wrote it down and smiled as she collected our menus then walked away.

I raised a brow at Maks. “It’s a bit early, don’t you think?”

He removed his glasses and slipped them into his inside coat pocket. “By the smell of your breath, I’d say it doesn’t matter. Vodka was it?”

I couldn’t help but raise my hand to my nose and mouth and remember the shot Greg had forced me to swallow earlier.

“I thought you were in recovery,” Maks added.

“And I thought you were on duty,” I bit back, causing Maks to fume at me silently, so I sat back with a sigh and shrugged. “What can I say? Circumstances beyond my control.”

“I think it’s time you shared those circumstances with me.”

So I did. I told Maks all about my evening with Greg and his goons. His jaw ticked the entire time, and as the story stretched further along, he ordered two more rounds of beer, I assumed to mellow his own anger, but maybe also to loosen me up, which it did. I found myself not only sharing the details of Greg’s plan for Tyler, but my plan for him, as well.

I laid out the paper I’d stolen from Greg’s file. At the time, I’d actually thought it might help Ty, to foil Greg’s plan and save my stepfather from having to kill against his will. But after hearing Maks confirm every sordid thing Greg had said about Ty—after learning what he was capable of, what he’d put my mother through, made her suffer—all I wanted to do now was get back at him, expose him for the criminal he was and see that he was punished for it.

I unfolded Greg’s note then smoothed it out on the table. “Greg gave Ty a dossier with information on the Vory he wants taken out.” I slid the paper under Maks’ nose. “I stole this from the top of that file. It’s a summary, a list of names, dates, and the locations where Greg wants Ty to assassinate them.” I pointed to the first item on Greg’s list. “You be there waiting for him at his first kill, you’ll have everything you need to arrest and prosecute Tyler Karras.”

Maks peeled his gaze from the document and looked up at me. “It would be conspiracy charges at best, difficult to prove, harder to prosecute.”

“Then you let him complete his mission and kill one of those Russian motherfuckers!”

“Keep your voice down,” Maks hissed as he leaned in with a sneer.

“I don’t give a shit, Maks. Each and every one of them deserves it. Look what those pricks did to my mother.”

“Conner, I can’t allow Tyler to actually kill someone. Legally, I’d be an accomplice and face collusion charges, possibly even conspiracy.”

“Who the hell’s gonna know? Just me, and I’m not gonna tell. I’d be just as liable as you are. Come on, Maks, I want those fuckers dead, and I want Ty in jail where he belongs. This is the proverbial two-birds-with-one-stone. Plus, you get the credit, to redeem yourself for fucking it up the first time. It’s a win-win situation.”

Though I could tell he was thinking it over, he shook his head. “Sorry. I can’t permit Ty to kill anyone. And I could have you arrested for even having this conversation with me.”

I slammed my good hand against the table. “Whatever, Maks, give those Russian fucks a bye, if that’s what you want, but you get Ty on attempted murder at the very least. Wait ‘til he attempts a shot, then arrest his fucking ass.” I leaned in, close to his face. “You do it, Maks. Ty deserves it. You know it, and I know it. You do your fucking job and arrest that prick!”

Maks pulled away with a tiny smile and a weird look in his eye. Then he shook his head at me. “Seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree now, does it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “Means you’re a lot like the man you now profess to hate so much.”

“I’m nothing like Ty.”

Maks chuckled. “Aren’t you? Isn’t Ty’s thirst for revenge what got him into this mess in the first place? You’re doing the same thing. It can’t lead to anything good, I assure you.”

I shook my head, refusing to acknowledge his point, but seeing the validity of it nonetheless, not that it mattered. I still wanted Ty to pay for what he’d done to my mother, and to me. I was determined to find a way to get Maks to do just that.

“So, what?” I asked. “You’re Ty’s friend first, Special Agent second? That it?”

Maks stared down into the last of his beer. “No, not at all. Karras and I merely tolerated each other all those years ago. We were never friends. Aaron was the only one Ty was friendly with. He even protected Ty from the higher-ups in Command. I never really understood that, to be honest.” He tipped the glass to lips, drained it, then set it back down hard on the table.

“Maks, look…I’m sorry if I got a little carried away, but…you can do this, without breaking the law. Think of it as a sting, if that’s what it takes. You’re just setting Ty up. You know the time, you know the place, you even know the victim. Whether he chooses to break the law or not is up to him. If he does, arrest him. It’s as simple as that.”

He glanced away for a moment and nodded. “And what about your mom?” he asked, once again staring me in the eye. “She’s about to have Ty’s kid, isn’t she?”

“She already has, but…she’ll get over him, like she got over my dad, and both she and my baby sister will be better off in the long run. It’s the right thing, Maks. For everything you know he’s done. He deserves it.”

Maks nodded with every point then mashed his lips together and shrugged. “Yeah,” he finally agreed. “He does. Always has.” He sighed loud and long, like it was the hardest decision he’d ever had to make. “All right. We’ll set it up.”

I couldn’t keep from smiling, though a part of me felt badly for some reason, my mom, I supposed. I didn’t relish the idea of destroying her marriage or her happiness, but it was the right thing to do. Ty had to pay for what
he’d
done to her, as well as for what the Russians had done. That was his fault, too. It was only fair.

“Good,” I said. “I wanna be there when it goes down, to see the look on his face.”

Maks shook his head, his brow high. “Yeah, that is
so
not going to happen,” he said as he swiped the paper away, folded it neatly, and slipped it into his pocket.

I shrugged, knowing it was pointless to argue. It didn’t matter really. I’d already memorized everything on the first three targets. I’d do whatever it took to be there and witness the downfall of Tyler Karras once and for all.

Following my branding as yet another Vory dog, I was given new quarters inside Greg’s house, a great privilege I was told. If it allowed me more freedom than being locked in a metal box, then I was all for it. Unfortunately, I was being watched closer than ever and had a guard on me at all times, even in “my room.”

I wandered around my newly assigned apartment. It was adequately outfitted with a queen-sized bed, a side table and lamp, and an armoire with a flat screen TV inside, all very masculine, contemporary and sleek, even the bathroom, which was tiled in heavy slate. But just because my accommodations had improved didn’t mean I was any better off. I was just closer to Greg, more readily available when he chose to blow his whistle and beckon me to his side, exactly what he was doing now.

My guard opened the bedroom door and ordered me to precede him into the hall. Greg wanted a meeting to discuss my first assignment. I was escorted downstairs to a home office—large, darkly paneled, and impressively detailed. Greg sat behind an ornately carved desk where he tapped away at his laptop keyboard. He didn’t even look up when his man opened the doors and showed me in. He merely pointed to the guest chair opposite him and said, “Have a seat,” then continued pecking away in silence.

I kept my eyes pinned on Greg instead of allowing my attention to skim over the room. That was the intention of a space such as this, to intimidate the guest while validating its owner. I didn’t need to soak in the details to understand it spoke of power and influence, dominance and wealth. Frankly, I didn’t care, nor was I impressed. I knew the man well enough already, what governed him and directed his actions. He was a coward who used others to attain what he couldn’t on his own. Hard to respect a man like that. Yet everything about Greg begged for respect and validation—demanded it like a child throwing a tantrum. Greg could bully all he wanted, but he’d never truly have the respect of those he ruled. Someday soon, he’d come to realize that. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be around to witness it or not.

“Alrighty,” Greg said as he folded his hands and finally looked up at me. “First things first—your wife and child. You said you wanted proof they were free and safe, did you not?”

I stared at him, rather stunned. “Um…yeah…yes, proof…please. I…I want to know they’re home…away from all of…this. Safe.”

Greg chuckled at my inarticulate jabbering. “Of course. You are ever the gallant husband and father.” He pecked out a few more keystrokes and watched his monitor for a brief moment before turning the laptop around toward me. “Violà!” he said.

I broke eye contact and slid the device closer. There was no sound, but it appeared to be cell phone video. The person holding the camera was sitting in the back seat of a vehicle, Greg’s Escalade from what I could tell. Next to him, on his right, was a backwards-facing infant car seat, and on the other side sat Hannah. She had her left arm slung across the car seat with her hand resting protectively between the cameraman and Nicole, who lay sleeping peacefully, cocooned in a pink fleece blanket.

As Hannah fidgeted with the beanie covering Nicole’s head, she glanced up and looked straight into the camera. She smiled, though it appeared forced, like she’d been ordered to, but her eyes were calm, if a bit sad, as she mouthed, “I love you, Ty,” and gave me a thumbs-up.

The camera focused down on Nicole for a minute then swung around to capture the area outside the car windows. I recognized the street our home was located on just before the vehicle pulled into our driveway and came to a stop near the side door at the kitchen. While the cameraman kept recording, the man in the front passenger seat got out and opened Hannah’s door as my wife struggled with Nicole’s car seat. Greg’s man stepped in when she couldn’t disengage it herself. He popped the lock and pulled the seat clear of its base then walked Nicole up to the stoop with Hannah dead on his heels. He set my daughter down on the concrete stoop before he stepped back and gave Hannah a slight nod.

The camera stayed on Hannah as the man returned to the car and the driver reversed back down the driveway. But before the SUV turned about and left, the door to the kitchen opened, and Conner burst through. Hopping over his new baby sister, he careened into his mother and threw his arms around her. His face was buried in her hair at her neck, but I could tell he was crying as his shoulders quaked in relief. Then Greg’s SUV hurried back up the street, and the video faded to black.

Tears stung my eyes. I covered my mouth with one hand as I closed Greg’s laptop and sat back in my chair. It was done. Hannah and Nicole were free, and Conner was home to watch over them. I’d done it. I’d saved my family. Relief washed over me, and I could no longer keep from weeping in bittersweet joy.

“Ah, a happy ending then?” Greg purred, his tone strangely heartfelt.

“Yes. Thank you,” I replied as I nodded. For once, I was genuinely grateful to him, but that didn’t stop me from asking for his guarantee. “Promise me you’ll leave them alone from now on, and I’ll swear to be whatever it is you want me to be—your dog, your servant, your killer, I don’t care—as long as you leave my family in peace. I want your word.”

Greg pressed his lips together and peered at me. “Of course. You have it. I give you my word; I will not touch your family.” He stood up and leaned over his desk with his hand out.

I stared at it for a moment then caught his eye for another before I reached in and accepted his hand. Greg smiled—that same sad smile he gave me the other night before he let me see Hannah one last time. I found myself looking deeper into his eyes, and he didn’t try to hide from me either. There was pain there, a vulnerability I’d rejected previously, interpreting it instead as pure greed and selfish ambition, not that greed and ambition weren’t there, because they were. It just seemed, at that moment, that the greed and ambition were the result rather than the motivating factors.

I was reminded of the first time I’d laid eyes on Greg, when he was hardly more than a boy fighting in his daddy’s arena of gladiators nearly five years earlier. I remembered the look in his eyes when he’d beaten his opponent and, with his arms raised in victory, looked up at his father for approval, probably realizing that approval had been at the expense of his soul. What kind of father would do that to his own child, barter his soul as part of a lesson?

That’s the pain I saw in Greg’s eyes, that betrayal, and it caught me completely off guard. I didn’t know what kind of man he was before all this, but I did know what it felt like to be good once, and to have thrown it all away and later realize I could never truly get it back. No matter the reason, that sense of utter hopelessness was the darkest, bleakest feeling any human could ever possibly feel.

Greg dropped my gaze and gently pulled his hand from mine. “You and I aren’t as dissimilar as you might think,” he explained. “I understand your dedication to your family, and I applaud your commitment, your willingness to sacrifice on their behalf. You’re a lucky man, and they’re obviously worth it.”

He slipped back into his chair and cast his eyes downward. “I’ve searched for many years for someone to believe in, who believes in me in return. My men—they’re paid to be here, so their loyalty only goes so far, you know? I wasn’t fortunate enough myself, but…I always wanted a brother, that one person who’d have my back without question. You were lucky to have had that, as well. And, while I know it’s not the same and never will be, I hope, someday, we can come to think of each other as…well…as family.”

He peeked back up at me then, just for a moment, but that’s all it took. I saw what he was doing. He was reaching for a lifeline. Greg was human, after all. He obviously wanted to connect with someone, quite desperately, in fact. But, while I understood the depth and pain of his loneliness, while I believed he deserved to be touched by someone he loved just as much as I or anyone else did, after everything he’d put me and my family through, all I could muster for Greg was pity.

I knew what that was like, to see that in someone’s eyes. I’d seen it in Hannah’s right before I said goodbye, and it destroyed me, because it meant I was that much more vulnerable. No man wants to feel that—least of all Greg—and in an instant, that shield he usually wore over his eyes came slamming back down into place. Seems he was right; we weren’t that dissimilar. He straightened his back and started to pick through the papers covering his desk.

“Okay,” he said and cleared his voice, “now that we have all that out of the way, let’s get down to business, shall we?” He found what he was looking for and laid it out in front of me. “Your first assignment, Aleksander Lebedev, also known as The Swan. Did you study up on him?” he asked, all business and tightly controlled. He was in such a rush to get past the awkwardness of the last moment, he didn’t even give me time to answer before he rehashed his speech about who was who among the Vory.

I glanced at the photograph Greg had given me then looked over the paperwork with Lebedev’s itinerary. I wondered if it was correct.

“Are you sure about this, that he’ll be here?” I asked. “I mean, a funeral? How could you know about this so far in advance?”

Greg smiled, but this one was different from the last. It was more like all the others he’d given me—malevolent and conspiratorial—and it twisted like a knife in my gut, reminding me what this discussion was all about. Me killing someone for Greg’s gain.

“Yes, well,” he said, “I have worker bees in the Lebedev hive. We kind of had to
make
that one happen.”

“Make it happen? What does that mean?”

“The Swan doesn’t go to just anyone’s funeral. He’s very discriminating. So we chose someone close to him.”

“You chose? You mean you killed someone just to get this bloke to attend his funeral? Are you fucking mad?”

“Well, not just anyone. It’s someone very special, someone he loves very much.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t personally touch anyone in the Vory? If you killed
this
poor fool, what do you need me for? Kill Lebedev yourself.”

Greg leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. First,
he
was actually a
she
, and
she
was not part of the Vory.
She
was Lebedev’s daughter, and I wasn’t technically responsible for her death. You were, I’m afraid, when you allowed Katy Holender to be waterboarded. The poor girl, drowning like that, and they say it isn’t possible.” He shivered animatedly then started straightening up the mess of papers on his desk.

I sat there staring with my mouth open. “You…” I began but choked on the single word. “You killed Katy?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know. Your wife admitted telling you, did she not?”

“Yes…Hannah told me it was Katy and not her, but…she died? You killed her?”

“No, that would be you, for being too slow on the draw, as they say.”

“I shot that man! I shot him so you’d stop! And you killed her anyway? Why?”

He shrugged. “It was the perfect way in. I couldn’t pass it up.”

“
She was pregnant!
”

“Yes, well, Nova, my queen, was none too pleased with that development, but she found it inspiring. It was her idea, and it all worked out for the best. Now I have the perfect opportunity to get The Swan where I need him, or, I should say, where
you
need him…

“Tomorrow at one, River View Cemetery in Portland. The river makes for an easy escape, there are lots of large monuments, trees, it’s hilly. Should be an easy shot, and Lebedev is a hulk of a man. Now, if we’re really lucky—and I strongly believe we will be—Eduard Meier will be there to pay his respects as Lebedev’s Councilor and right-hand man. That will give you the opportunity to kill two birds with one shot, almost literally.”

I was still in shock over Katy and hardly heard what Greg was saying. I’d assumed they’d been working together, yet, when I factored in Leo’s death, I couldn’t quite connect all the dots. But Katy’s death proved one thing absolutely clear. No matter what, I could not trust Greg, even with him giving me his word, shaking hands over it, or reaching out as family. Greg was out for one person only.

Greg.

I was merely his mercenary, and tomorrow, with the sword of Damocles once again hanging over my head, I would cement that position forever and lose what little humanity I’d struggled for so long to hold on to.