Page 99 of Darkest Deeds
Epilogue
Niko
Miami, Florida
One Year Later
Whoever saidthe more things change, the more things stay the same nailed that shit dead on. Stepping off an airplane onto Florida soil in December is still like getting punched in the dick by Satan.
X waits a respectable distance away, holding a set of keys in his hands. “Welcome home, Mr. Gaheris. Your car is waiting for you.”
I stare at him behind my reflective sunglasses. He’s decked out in his usual blue banker suit with his brown hair slicked back. Always blue and never a hair out of place. I wouldn’t be surprised if Xavier has a poster of Leonardo DiCaprio in Wolf of WallStreet hanging up that he gives double finger guns to every morning.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Is something funny, sir?”
“You’re really dedicated to that look, aren’t you, X?”
“Yes, sir. It’s important to portray an image of consistency. Every great man has a signature style.”
I open my mouth to make a smartass comment when he cocks that damn eyebrow even higher and scans his eyes from my black leather jacket down to my black jeans, looking away with a small smirk.
I don’t know whether to laugh or put my foot up his ass.
Well played.
I rush down the rest of the airsteps and steal the keys out of his hand. “Everybody gets one, X. Enjoy it while it lasts.”
X doesn’t respond. He knows better. For the last year he’s met me in the same place, holding the same keys, with the same greeting.
“Welcome home, Mr. Gaheris. Your car is waiting for you.”
Home. I haven’t had one of those since I was seventeen years old. Even then, it was filled with violence and hate. The only thing that kept me tied to that place was one woman who needed me to protect her from a monster. When I left, I found myself once again tied to a place where another woman needed me to protect her from her own monster. For eight years after that, home was a weapon, a job, and a vendetta.
Holding a gun in my hand will always feel normal, and the men I call family are still violent killers. However, I no longer have a vendetta. Instead, I have a real home, and someone who has waited three weeks for me to return.
Turning the ignition on the Audi, I hit the gas and peal out of Miami-Opa Locka Airport.
A man should never keep a lady waiting.
Especially one with an entire Bratva at her feet.
* * *
The crimsonred neon light floods the walkway as I approach the door to Seven. From outside I can hear shouting, so I don’t bother knocking. For once, the asshole bouncer isn’t on his phone. In fact, he’s wide eyed and alert, his eyes bouncing from me to the inside of the club and back.
“Hello, Mr. Gaheris.”
“What the hell is going on in there?” I try to peer around him, but all I can see are large men’s backs and a pair of pale arms flailing in the air.
“Police raid.”
“Another one?”
He shrugs. “They won’t go away until she gives them what they want. I don’t know why she doesn’t stuff their pockets so they’ll shut up. That’s what Dmitry always did.”
“You just answered your own question.” I turn toward the dark hallway, a smile breaking across my face as a long string of Russian insults immediately quiets the incessant yelling.
“Idi nahuey. Tvoya mama shlyukha na vokzale!”