Page 31 of Bedazzled
“Look, just- here, come sit down. You want a drink? A smoothie?”
He started laughing, heading for the couch. “A smoothie? Who are you talking to? Is Maksim here?”
Rubbing my forehead, I laughed too. Everyone in the Morozov circle found Maksim’s “healthy” smoothies acutely disgusting. They always looked and smelled like ground-up lizard. “Oh, shut up! I do have some whisky here… yeah, Johnny Walker Blue Label.”
“Perfect.”
I eyed the half-empty wine bottle. I’d told myself I wasn’t drinking anymore tonight, but… what the hell, I had a guest. Filling my glass and grabbing his, I joined him back on the couch. “You get to finish half your drink and then I want answers.”
Shaking his head with a grin, he lightly tapped his glass to mine.“Sláinte.”
“Right back atcha, pal.”
We drank in silence for a moment before he settled back with a sigh. “I like your new place.”
“Yeah? Thanks. I didn’t want to stay… anyway, thanks,” I looked down at my glass for a moment. “Okay, spill. And don’t leave out anything because I thought you were dead and right now I want to kick you in the nuts or something. I was so pissed off at Yuri and Maksim because you didn’t get a funeral!”
He pointed a stern finger at me. “No kicking the family jewels. I’m lucky I still have ‘em. First thing. I’ve been waiting to say thank you since I came to, all wired up in that ICU bed. You saved my life by stopping the bleeding long enough for the paramedics to get there.”
“So where the hell did you go?” I smacked him on his shoulder instead of the family jewels which he still deserved for letting me think he was dead.
He finished his whiskey, rolling the tumbler between his palms. “Just me being here goes against everything the Pakhan would want, you have to know that.”
Frowning, I said, “I have never spoken about the Morozov Brat-tastic lifestyle. I’m not starting now, especially if it means risking your life. Again.”
“Brat-tastic…” Patrick was chuckling again. “Okay. Since everyone thought I was dead, the boss knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me to poke around Dublin and Belfast and infiltrate the O’Connell Mob.”
“And risking your life just when you got off your deathbed. Nice.” I said sourly.
“Ah,” he shook his head at me, “he also offered me the chance to leave the life for good. Take my money and go find a tropical island, buy a bar, die of skin cancer because I will never tan…”
“And you still chose the Bratva.”
“They’re my family,” he said simply. “But back to why I’m here. I picked up enough valuable intel and it was getting too risky, so the boss brought me back home. With my fancy, elevated status as hisObshchak,he wanted me to move into Yuri’s penthouse.
“Apparently,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “he doesn’t intend to return to New York enough to keep it.”
I flushed, finished my wine, and stood up. “You want another one?”
“Aye, of course,” he said. “So I was walking through the place yesterday and looking around, and I checked the safe. It was clear he hadn’t opened it because there was dust all over the painting in front of it.”
I nodded; it was the one in his bedroom.
He blew out a long breath. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. This is against everything I swore an oath to, but I have to believe my duty to Yuri is still in keeping with that. I found this in the safe.”
He pulled out a letter with my name scrawled across it in Yuri’s bold handwriting and a velvet jewelry box.A little one.
The kind you would use for a ring.
I scooted away to the far end of the couch. “I don’t… I don’t want that. It wasn’t for me anyway. I don’t know if they’re keeping you up on current events pal, but that heartless dick is getting married this week.”
“Please.” He pushed it at me. “Please just read it.”
Swallowing that stupid lump that would not stop moving up into my throat, I opened the letter.
Moye serdtse…
“My heart?” I said bitterly, “That’s a laugh in EnglishandRussian.”
