27
Vasilije
David Garvin’s house shared a driveway with two other homes, but not any walls, thank fuck. According to the real estate listing last year, it had a finished basement. That was where I’d need to pull the trigger to keep this shit quiet.
Oksana and I sat in the back seat of the Lexus, with John behind the wheel, and all our gazes went beyond the windshield to the top of the hill, where the back of David’s house was visible through the trees. The lights had gone off over an hour ago, but I was cautious. It’d be easier to persuade with my gun if he was asleep and unarmed when I got to him.
She’d been jittery on the car ride over, and now drummed her fingers on the leather.
“Stop,” I said, covering her hand with mine. “I don’t like useless noise.”
The hand was just like the woman it was attached to. Soft, delicate, and warm.
I’d come in her mouth in the shower this morning, while the water poured down on us and her wet hair was coiled around my fists. I figured she needed a break from the fucking. Didn’t want to wear out my new favorite toy so soon.
After she’d swallowed, she’d gasped as I’d shoved her back to sit on the ledge in the shower, and the sound echoed off the glass. I’d crouched down, put one knee near the drain, and slung her legs over my shoulders. Listening to her compose a symphony of sex as I worked her over with my tongue sounded amazing. Her cries of need, and those moans of pleasure? I could listen to that shit all day.
Oksana exploded with a loud cry, shuddering while my tongue was massaging her and her fingers scratched at the tile. The wet ends of her hair dripped onto her heaving chest and gorgeous tits. I’d almost told her she’d be showering with me from now on, but realized I’d never fucking get anything done. The girl and her delicious pussy were distracting.
“I’m going,” I announced to everyone in the car, including myself. I wasn’t scared, but not super comfortable either. I’d done as much research and planning as possible, but there were a lot of unknowns in the house on the hill.
Her hand shifted, turning until she could wrap her fingers around mine and squeeze. Her blue eyes looked nervous. Who would have thought this Russian girl would be worried about me? And that I’d like it?
“Good luck,” she whispered.
It was weird as hell, the need to kiss her, but I gave in to it. If I was about to walk into that house and not walk out, who fucking cared if I kissed her? I planted my lips on hers and slipped my tongue deep in her mouth, kissing her in a way she’d never forget me.
She swayed at the end of it, disoriented.
I turned to John. “If I’m not out in an hour, text Aleksandar and tell him where I am. You take Oksana back to my house and call Luka.”
John nodded.
“Don’t take an hour.” Her voice was tight as she tried for a stern tone. “I don’t want to wait that long to hear about it.”
I flashed her a full grin. Bringing her along instead of Alek wasn’t too smart, but it was way more fun. I pushed open the car door and got out.
There was no ID on me, other than my phone, which would be tough to unlock. My clothes were dark and utilitarian. I only carried two tools, a lock pick and my Glock. No under-arm holster tonight. I needed concealment and went for a rear waistband one, hidden beneath my black shirt. It’d be slower to draw, but hopefully I wouldn’t need to pull in a hurry.
Dry leaves crunched under my boots as I hustled up the hill, sticking close to the trees and ducking under branches. It was overcast tonight, making it unlikely anyone would see me. My lungs were tight in the cold air and I wanted to cough, but I held it in until the sensation passed. I made it to the back patio door and listened for any sounds from beyond the glass.
There was a sign in the front yard announcing the home was protected by a security system, only my PI said it was bullshit. The house might have been wired at one time, but the company didn’t have an account for this address on file. I put my gloved hand on the sliding door, curious. Might as well see if he’d been dumb enough to leave it unlocked, and save myself the trip to the front door and the time it’d take to pick.
The door slid open and I shook my head in disbelief.
It was noisy as hell, and I opened it just enough so I could slither through. The kitchen was dark. No dogs came rushing at me. No men waited with guns in their hands. I dragged the door closed and surveyed the room. Dirty dishes with half-eaten dinners were stacked on the counter beside empty beer bottles.
I unholstered the Glock and set off in search of David.
The depressing house wasn’t large, so it didn’t take long. He was asleep in the bedroom to the left of the kitchen, snoring away with his mouth hanging open. I stepped around the piles of clothes and carefully searched for his piece. David might not have security monitoring his home, but he’d been my uncle’s bodyguard for years. His security would be a gun or two within reach of the bed.
There was one hidden under the metal frame. I slipped it quietly out of the holster and jammed it in the back of my jeans. I didn’t find a gun under the pillow on the far side of the bed, which meant he might have the second one beneath his fat head. If he did, I’d shoot him before he could go for it.
He was in his mid-fifties, and it looked like he’d let himself go over the last twenty years. Fuck, he was a hairy bastard. Maybe after I woke him up, I’d make him put on a shirt. I didn’t like looking at the forest of curls that covered most of him.
I set the barrel of my gun an inch from his forehead. “Hey, fuckface. Wake up.”
David jerked awake. His sleepy eyes focused on the gun and immediately went alert.
“Hands where I can see them,” I said. “Right, fucking, now.”
He probably thought about going for the gun beneath the mattress, but his split-second calculation was run and he figured it wasn’t going to work out in his favor. He cautiously raised his hands.
“Sit up. Slowly,” I ordered.
His anxious eyes didn’t stray from mine. “I don’t keep money in the house. You picked a bad guy to rob, kid.”
My finger ached to pull the trigger, but the rest of me was strong. Get him downstairs first. He didn’t recognize me, and why would he? I’d been five years old the last time I’d seen him. “If I was going to rob you, why the fuck would I wake you up?”
He drew in a deep breath. Yeah, it was sinking in now.
When his eyes shifted away, I chuckled. “Thinking about going for the gun under the bed? Because, surprise. I found it.” I enjoyed the grimace that rolled through David’s expression. “On your feet. Let’s take a walk.”
He was wearing a pair of blue boxers, and thank God for that. I didn’t need to see any more of him. “Where are we going?” he asked as he came to his feet.
“Downstairs.”
His shoulders pulled back. “Why?”
“Because I love the smell of mold. Fucking move.”
I’d explored the whole place as a precaution, and had made sure the only thing that could kill me in the basement—outside of David—was the musty rot in the walls. He went down the steps at a snail’s pace, probably stalling for time, or hoping I’d slip up and get too close so he could take a gun off me.
My impulse control had improved over the last year. I understood when to be patient.
“What’s this about?” he asked when he reached the bottom of the steps. “Who do you work for?”
It was both the truth and a lie. “Goran Markovic.”
He hadn’t been afraid when he’d woken with a gun in his face, but he was scared shitless now.
“What the fuck?” His face turned an ugly shade of purple. “I did what he told me and kept my mouth shut.”
I flicked the tip of my gun toward the center of the room, then aimed it back at him. I’d prefer not to get anything on myself when I pulled the trigger.
David’s agitation ramped up. “Why’d he send you? There’s no mess to clean up here. Dimitrije died last—”
“No mess?” Anger was a thick knot in my throat, choking me. “What you did ruined people’s lives.”
He looked guilty, but visibly swallowed it back. “If I hadn’t done it, Goran would have killed me and found someone else.”
I knew it was true, but it didn’t matter. “You think that excuse is going to save you?”
He began to shake. Not so much a tremble in fear, but with frustration. Like he knew this day was coming. “Look, kid, I didn’t want to do it, just like I’m sure you don’t want to do this.”
He was even dumber than he looked, and I sneered. “You don’t know shit.” Actually, not true. He knew one vital piece of information I wanted. I had my suspicions, but needed him to confirm it. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you, you pathetic piece of shit? You murdered an innocent woman, after smearing her name. She had two fucking kids.”
David’s body quaked violently. He didn’t argue the statement, so this was pure guilt.
There was plenty of blame to share between my father and uncle for my mother’s death, but David’s reaction meant I was now staring at the man who’d physically killed her. The gun burned in my hand, all the way through my gloves.
“I know she did.” His voice was tiny. “I think about them a lot, actually.”
My mind went white-hot with rage. I wasn’t going to stand for bullshit. “You do, huh?” My eyebrow tugged upward so hard, it hurt. “How old do you think they might be these days? The younger one would be, what? Twenty-four?”
He jolted. His mouth fell open, and his eyes went so wide they were nearly all white. I watched with rich, evil satisfaction as the realization dawned on him. He was totally and completely fucked.
“Vasilije?” he whispered.
The smallest amount of pressure on the trigger was all it took, and the gun went off.
Even though I hit him with my first shot, I gave him several more slugs to the chest. I stopped as his body began to fall and before I used the entire magazine, though. That was proof how much I’d improved my impulse control.
Once David collapsed into a heap, and his brains and blood were soaking into the carpet, I dug my pair of wireless headphones out of a pocket and hooked one onto each ear. I pulled out my phone, unlocked it, and scrolled to the app I was looking for.
After the shower this morning, Oksana had asked for more time before playing me what she was working on. She was close to being done with the first song, she’d said, so I’d given her until after dinner. The music would be better when it wasn’t so bright in the house anyway, I’d convinced myself. I was impatient, though. I really fucking wanted to hear it.
She’d mentioned the bruises I’d put on her ass hurt, and when she sat down at the piano to play for me, she winced. Her body was tight with apprehension, and she hesitantly set her fingers on the keys. But once she started to play, she dove headfirst into the music. Her long fingers attacked the keys, striking them at times in a similar way that I struck her.
Calculating. With purpose.
When she’d played the final note, she took in a deep breath and turned to me, desperate for feedback.
“It’s good,” I said simply.
Her lips parted, and shock overtook her. She’d expected me to hate it, or at least have more to say, but I just shrugged and got out my phone.
“Play it again,” I demanded, setting my finger over the button onscreen to start recording.
I’d been lying through my teeth to her. The song wasn’t good; it was magnificent. I couldn’t tell her that, though. Didn’t need her getting a big head and then deciding one song was enough. I wanted more from her.
As I stood over David’s body, the gun still warm from firing, I pressed ‘play’ and the opening song of my symphony began. Fuck, Oksana had composed it perfectly. From now on, every time I listened to it, I’d remember this moment. Her music had captured my satisfaction so I could enjoy it again and again. Endlessly.
I couldn’t wait to tell her about it.