Page 35 of Prior Claim
“Raska without a leash.” Anton threw the crumpled up plastic at the wall. “This isn’t the first time I’ve run into the Merchari. The worst of the worst. Traffickers. Drugs. Money laundering. Monetarily motivated assassinations. If we have a chance to take them down, we have to take it.”
Sevastyan swallowed, suddenly wanting a drink. “Okay.”
Anton looked at Sevastyan as if surprised.
“I said okay,” Sevastyan repeated. “As long as we’re together.”
Anton nodded. “I’m home, son. It’s been a long damn time. But I’m home.”
Once Anton was asleep, Sevastyan let himself strip off and get into the shower. The memory of his mother putting the gun to his head played over and over again. He slid down the tiles and curled up, knees to his chest, arms around his legs, and bowed his head, letting the warm water beat down on the back of his skull.
Raska. Not Mother. Never Mother.
Raska. Raska. Raska.
He beat his forehead against his knees and hugged himself tighter, cold on the inside despite the hot water filling the bathroom with steam.
Sevastyan
Present day
“Twelve years,” Sevastyan said. “How much longer do you think we can do this?”
Anton shook his head again, not meeting Sevastyan’s eyes.
Are you even trying? Sevastyan kept his doubt behind his teeth. “Collin and Alice still think you’re dead.”
Anton grunted. He poured himself another drink.
Sevastyan sipped at his brandy, breathing it in. Better than the smell of the layered-in stale stagnation of old cigars in the room. It was making his fingers itch for a cigarette, but smoking made Rei cough. He’d given up cigarettes the same night he’d dragged Rei out of the fire. “Collin’s done more toward our goal than we have.”
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of involving him. Collin and Alice are off limits.”
Sevastyan glanced up. Anton was glaring at him.
Sevastyan shook his head and gave a scoffing laugh. “My mission is to contain the fallout from Gang not being a cooperative victim. He’s sleeping in the same condo as Collin right now.”
Anton just stared back at Sevastyan.
Sevastyan shook his head and looked away, wiping his nose with his thumb. “Richard and his protégée are ready to burn bridges over him.”
“Don’t tell me . . .” Anton rolled his eyes and reached for the bottle again, topping up his cup.
“We haven’t had this kind of a chance to make such a powerful ally.”
“And put everything else at risk,” Anton snarled. “Your brother almost died two months ago.”
Because of you, Sevastyan thought. Rei’s steady presence burned against the side of Sevastyan’s leg. It wasn’t fair, exactly. The entire situation that had put Collin at risk had been old and centered around Richard and Linda Reevesworth’s inheritance from their uncle, or rather their refusal to continue the criminal ties their uncle had cultivated when they took over his businesses. As Richard’s lover, Collin had just been a convenient hostage. Not that Anton would believe that.
Anton closed his eyes. “There’s too much attention. Lie low. For heaven’s sake be quiet. If you’re already drawn in, it could smear over to you as well. Make sure your numbers are good. Don’t slip. Don’t give them a reason to doubt you.”
“We haven’t had a chance like this in two years.”
“And the last chance I thought we had blew up spectacularly. I’m tired, son.” Anton fussed with a cigar box and found his lighter in the mess of things on the side table beside him. “Now isn’t a good time.”
Sevastyan forced himself to sit back on the couch and cross one ankle over the opposite knee, his wrist resting on his knee.
Anton puffed on his cigar. “Give it up. They’ll just come after you.”
