Page 91 of Emerald Vices
Not yet. But we won’t have a choice soon.
“Have Viktor brought to the manor,” I sigh. “If you’d rather have Vaska and Yuri handle it, then give them the order.”
“I can fucking handle Viktor,” he glowers. “I can take that motherfucker with my eyes closed.”
I know that much is true.
It’s Katya who’s more of a struggle.
38
ANDREY
The door flies open and a six-foot-one mess lands on my Persian rug. He smells like shit. Between Efrem’s bloodstains and Viktor’s filth, I really will have to throw the damn thing out.
Shura fills the doorframe a second later, towering over my brother, who is trying and failing to peel himself up off my floor. Shura, ever the helpful one, “accidentally” kicks him on the way to my desk.
“Delivered as promised.”
“Mudak,” Viktor growls, glaring up at Shura from where he remains plastered on the floor. He half-rises again, trips over the edge of the rug, and falls right back on his ass.
None of us move to help him. It takes a while for the whole circus to spin itself out, so Viktor is practically foaming at the mouth when he finally stands. His clothes are stiff with grime and every miniscule motion sends foul waves of stale smoke and booze wafting toward me.
“Jesus, Viktor.” I wrinkle my nose. “You reek.”
His bloodshot eyes swirl in their sockets as he focuses on me. “How dare you? If our father knew about this?—”
“Running to Daddy to tattle on me, Vicky?”
“My absence will be noticed.”
“By the whores who warm your bed at night? I’m guessing they’ll be relieved you’re not around.”
“Fuck you!” He swipes at the spit dribbling down his chin. “Listen, if this is about those cops who raided?—”
“How do you know about that?”
Viktor’s mouth hangs open. My God—this is going to be even easier than I thought. I’d be pleased if I wasn’t so repulsed instead. “What was the point of that stunt, Viktor? Trying to earn Papa’s approval?”
“There’s nothing to earn. Otets trusts me.”
“The old man doesn’t trust you for shit,” I say. “He doesn’t even like you. He tolerates you. For the moment, at least.”
“I’m his right-hand man!”
The vile creature wobbling on his feet in front of me is so much more broken than I remember. I can’t even bring myself to despise him. Pity is the only emotion left.
“One day,” he says, “I’m going to rule the entire fucking Kuznetsov Bratva!”
Shura barks out a harsh laugh. “What self-respecting man would follow you?”
Viktor lists to the side, but manages to clamp a clammy hand around the edge of my desk to right himself before gravity drags him back down where he belongs.
“Who are you to talk?” Viktor crows. “Half your men aren’t even loyal! They’re coming over to our side in droves. They don’t want you as their pakhan; they want Slavik. After Slavik, it’ll be my time.”
“This is your time, brother,” I tell him calmly. “As good as you will ever have it. Enjoy the drinking, smoking, and whoring while you can. It’s all gonna end soon enough.”
Viktor cackles like a madman, sounding lucid for the first time since Shura dragged his carcass in here. “You don’t know what you’re in for. Otets will win. He’s got a big ally on his side. He doesn’t need any of the others—the Brigade, the Halcones—none of them matter compared to—” His eyes bulge mid-sentence. Then he twists to the side and throws up.