Chapter 8
DANILL
BARRY WANGER IS EASY. Too easy. Which is why I watch him a bit longer than I typically would for a job this simple. Mainly because I think that there could be more to him, to this, but there doesn’t seem to be. Everything about him is superficial and surface level.
He even makes a call to Davydov in public and discusses business. He’s cocky as hell. Not a good trait to be when you’ve tried to fuck over the Pakhan of a Bratva in a drug deal. Tried to keep his money, spent that money with no goddamn recourse. I’m not sure what Davydov is getting from him, what was promised, what was delivered, and what wasn’t, but it has to be big if he wants him taken care of the way that he does.
The Bratva doesn’t typically take care of anyone high profile. We have in the past, but in general, we try not to be on any authority radar that way. Staying inconspicuous, keeping out of the limelight. Except, when I officially take Holland, I’ll not just be in the limelight, I’ll be in the fucking middle of it.
My phone rings and I look down at the name on the screen. It’s my real estate agent. Normally, I wouldn’t take a call while I’m watching and gathering information on a job, but this is an important one.
“Everything has cleared, it’s been posted, and the deed has been recorded as yours.” “Thank you,” I murmur.
“Can I ask why you’d want that? It’s not that far from where you already live.”
Smiling, I chuckle to myself. I can’t tell her the truth. If she knew, she’d probably think that I was insane. She might even try to turn me in to the authorities.
So I lie. “I wanted something for investment.”
“I could have found you something with a much larger return, Danill.”
I hum. “I understand, but this is what I wanted.”
She thanks me for the job and asks that I call her if I need anything else. Ending the call, I continue to watch the fuck across from me. He’s talking loudly. Telling Davydov that he’s sorry, that he’ll find some more product and that he’ll make sure he’s paid back in full, plus ten percent.
All lies.
And ten percent would not even be the goddamn tip of what Davydov would want as interest. Davydov knows this. He’s just biding his time, playing the game. I don’t blame him, there’s no need to tip anyone off on what will happen.
“I will get your product. I swear it. I’m good for it,” Barry announces. “Is there something that I can give you to keep you happy until I can get your product and/or money?”
I think about his question and wonder what on earth he could offer instead of product and money. Then something ugly settles in my gut and he answers. It’s exactly what I thought it would be and I wonder if I could get away with killing him right this second.
“My daughter. She’s famous, she’s sexy, she hasn’t been with many men. I know because I’ve had her followed for years. I even have her doctor give me updates every time she’s in for a visit.”
If I could kill him right now, I would. But also, I want to make sure that it doesn’t come back on me in any way. If I could make him suffer, I would. I wish that I fucking could too. A quick, easy, pretend suicide is not enough for this piece of shit.
Leaving him, I turn and start the engine of my car before I shift it into drive and head toward Holland. Her building is about an hour from where her father lives. It takes me thirty minutes to get to her.
I’m not surprised to see her standing outside of her building, talking to the same man that she was in the club with. It must be a friend of hers, only a friend, I can tell by her body language that there is nothing else there for her. Him, I’m not so sure. I watch as they make their way down the street.
I stay behind, my eyes focused on her as she makes her way toward a café and slips inside. I stay where I am, deciding that I need to see her more than just a second or two. I stay in the car, watching and waiting, when my phone rings.
Lifting it to my ear, I answer it. “I want this done sooner rather than later,” Davydov announces.
“I do as well.”
“Are you ready?”
There is a moment of silence and I clear my throat. “I am ready. More than ready. I will handle it all. My contacts have been informed and markers have been called in.”
“Good,” he murmurs. “Good. The party?”
Ending the call, I watch the door and wait for Holland. She will make her way here soon enough, I just have to wait. Then I find her name in my phone and decide to send her a text. It’s been over a week since I’ve seen her. I’ve been ass deep in research and planning the demise of her father, now it’s time that I enjoy myself a little bit before completing the job.
WILL YOU BE HOME TONIGHT?
There is a moment where the message has been read, but she doesn’t respond immediately. Then I see the little bubble appear as she starts her text.
HOLLAND: WHO IS THIS?
YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS.
HOLLAND: DANIEL?
YES, BUT IT’S DANILL.
HOLLAND: IT’S BEEN A WEEK.
IT HAS AND I WANT MORE.
HOLLAND: I’LL BE HOME IN THIRTY MINUTES.
I WILL SEE YOU THERE.
HOLLAND
At first, I’m completely embarrassed because I think that perhaps my dad forgot to pay the rent and it’s some kind of notice about nonpayment and I think I might just die if my neighbors saw that.
Then I realize that’s not what it is at all.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
“What?” Nate demands.
“Somebody bought my apartment.” “What?” he screeches.
Locking the door with a shaky hand, I grip the paper tightly and hurry downstairs to meet Nate. He’s standing in front of the building, his mouth hanging wide open.
“Give that to me,” he demands.
Nate snatches the paper from my hand and I watch as his eyes scan the sheet before he lifts them back to meet my own. He presses his lips together, rolling them a few times, then lets out a low whistle, again.
“Says you can continue to pay rent to this new company. But sure as shit, someone bought your apartment.”
“I didn’t even know you could buy these places. I thought it was all owned by one person or company, not individually. I asked my dad to try to buy it a few years ago and he told me that they said no.”
“Sometimes offers are too good to resist, maybe that’s what this was.”
“But why mine?” I ask.
Nate shrugs a shoulder, folds the paper, then slips it into my handbag. “Let’s go get that coffee. Nate needs to hear all about that sexy as shiit stranger with the tattoos.”
He says the words, but there’s a bite to his tone that I don’t quite understand. I shrug it off before looping my arm in his, and we walk down the street together.
There is a small café just a few blocks away. It’s where we always go to discuss life’s major issues, for either of us. Today those issues revolve around me, next time they’ll revolve around him, I’m sure.