Page 21 of Maksim
Three hours. Three phone calls.
That’s what it took to track down Elira’s supposed fiancé. It sounds like a lot of time invested, but two of those hours were merely waiting on a call back from the head of a trafficking ring the late Anton got a few of our whores—Elira included—from.
I don’t know why I went out of my way to find him. The heartbreak on her face this morning when I told her what she should’ve already known was unnecessary on its own, but proving it… What will that accomplish, other than more heartbreak?
I don’t know. I may just be a fucking monster, but the idea that she might have some notion that there’s a Prince Charming out there coming to her rescue feels too uncomfortable to allow.
No one is coming to her rescue. There was no fiancé. This is as good as it gets.
Sorry, princess.
The photo of the trafficker, with his information written on the back, hangs from my back pocket as I walk up to Hugh’s door, and it slides from my mind when I hear the sounds of gunfire. Not real, from a video game, but it’s still obnoxiously loud.
I yank open the door and step inside, instantly feeling at home. More so than in the three-bedroom suburban hell I live in for Anya’s sake. If I didn’t have a teenage sister to care for, it’s possible I would’ve moved in here a long time ago.
It’s seven in the evening, but Hugh’s youngest brother, Fox, is in flannel pajama bottoms and a wife beater on the couch with his friend, Vlad, who is only slightly better dressed. A cigarette dangerously dangles from Fox’s mouth as he stabs at an Xbox controller. Vlad’s feet are planted on the surprisingly cleared-off table, his legs spread too wide. It smells like ass in here.
I changed my mind. Anya or no Anya, this place is too much of a bachelor pad. My lip curls, but when Vlad sees me, he doesn’t seem to notice my disapproval. He nods.
“’Sup, Mak?”
Jesus Christ.
I raise my chin. “Where’s Hugh?”
“Shower,” Fox answers. He laughs. “They must’ve given you trouble today. I could smell brain matter on him from down the block.”
Really?
As a reflex, I angle my nose to sniff my shoulder, but I’ve already showered the gore away. Someone came in to pay a debt but disrespected Nikita in the process. If it were only me, I probably would’ve let it go, but Roman was around, and I wanted to make a point, prove my loyalty to a fellow lieutenant. If my boss knew how much I despised him, Hugh would be washing my brains off himself right now instead of the man he beat to death with a golf club earlier today.
“Always,” I reply, heading for the kitchen to grab a beer.
My eyes find the basement door as I walk past it, a jolt of excitement making my spine straighten. I continue to the fridge, grab a beer, and when I turn around, I pause.
A petite pair of feet stick out from beneath the kitchen table, and I follow the woman’s legs up to her supple ass, hidden by the white skirt of a dress.
I squint and lean toward the table as if that’ll give me powers to see through wood.
That isn’t…?
Elira didn’t seriously leave the basement already, did she?
What the fuck would she be doing under the table?
Fox struts into the kitchen, headed for the fridge, and when he notices where I’m looking, he slaps my shoulder with a laugh.
“She’s been doin’ that shit all day, man. We told her a dozen times she doesn’t have to clean, but she doesn’t understand shit.”
“Lucky man!” Vlad yells from the living room.
“Yeah, no shit.” Fox waggles his eyebrows while looking between Elira’s ass and me. “You keep her here as long as you need, my man.”
“Ask him if she can cook!”
Fox flicks his eyes toward Vlad’s voice. “He doesn’t know the bitch!”
Vlad doesn’t respond, but Fox lifts a finger when he seems to get an idea. He goes to the cupboard and pulls out a box of macaroni and cheese before tossing it on the counter and going to the table.