Page 115 of Twisted Little Game

Yegor clearly wasn’t expecting us. He goes in for a hug, for me and then for Maks, and invites us inside.

My heart is slamming in my chest. I have no clue how much Yegor knows. Is he aware of the information we’ve found yet? Are we walking into a trap, or are we setting one?

“We were in the area,” Maks tells him.

I remain silent.

Observing.

I need to focus on every small detail.

“Come, come. I have a few friends over.”

Yegor leads us down a couple of shallow steps into the lower area of his front living room. Tall windows look out over the stately forested backyard, and the fireplace is roaring in the center of the wall.

There are three men and one woman sitting around the large, low table in the center of the room. Cards and chips litter the table, and everyone has a drink and a cigar.

I check their faces quickly.

Not Malettis.

Unless they’re new hires or low-level grunts, I don’t recognize them. But when my eyes land on the third guy, next to the woman, my heart skips a beat.

It’s him.

Lucian Farina.

Sitting there, wearing a cream-colored suit with a deep, blood-red tie.

All of them glance up at me as I step down into the area, and Lucian’s eyes linger on me, but he’s careful not to stare for too long.

He has no clue that I already know who he is.

What he’s been doing.

What he’s been saying to my beauty.

“Guys, these are my cousins, Roman and Maks. I’m sure I’ve talked about them,” Yegor says, then introduces each of them to us individually.

There’s Lucian. The girl next to him is his date, Nicole. The two other guys are Benny and a man he introduces as Tackle, which I assume is a nickname he got because he looks like a slab of muscle.

Still not quite as tall as me.

Not as thick, either.

Benny’s eyes are bloodshot, and I notice remnants of white powder on the table in front of his spot. All of them have been drinking, and the air reeks of cigar and Amaretto liqueur.

“Sit, sit,” Yegor says. “You want in on the next round?”

“Maybe the one after next,” I say, speaking for the first time since walking in. “Yegor, we need a word. In the backyard.”

He gives us a wide, painted-on smile, nodding and stubbing his cigar out in the ashtray below him.

“Of course, of course, gentleman. Guys, you’ll be entertained in here while I go chat with my cousins for a moment?”

Benny is pouring out a fresh line of coke in front of him and waves one hand in response.

Tackle remains silent, staring out into the distance, and Lucian Farina is the only one who glances up at Yegor.