20. Alexander

Chapter 20

Alexander

T he truck idles across the street from an Italian restaurant. It’s a little past nine at night and I’m ready to get back home, but we have a job to do.

Lev stares out the front window and says nothing. It’s been like this for the past week. We go on jobs together, start haunting Italian spots, but he refuses to say a fucking word beyond what’s necessary.

Honestly, I can’t blame him. I get that he’s angry. I’d be pissed in his position too, but at this point it’s getting a little absurd.

I have a Rolex watch in my lap. It’s one of the pieces from the fire. I go over it with a soft cloth and a cleaning solution, doing my best to get the smoke damage off the gold and the diamonds. I’m not sure if the movement can be salvaged, but if I can at least get the case cleaned up then it’ll have some resale value.

“Mother fucker better come out soon,” Lev mutters to himself.

“He’ll come. We got good info.”

“You got info. I’m not sure if it’s good.” He glances at me. “You’re still working on those watches?”

“I’m an optimist at heart.”

He grunts and shakes his head. “Waste of fucking time.”

“Tell that to your dad.”

“He doesn’t give a shit how many Rolexes you save, you realize that? He’s always going to hate you.”

I nod to myself, still working on the watch. “I figured.”

“Then why bother?” Lev glances at me, sounding more curious than angry.

“Because of Natalya.” His eyebrows raise and I keep going. “I don’t think your father’s ever going to forgive me, but he might forgive his daughter. And he might want to have his grandson in his life. If I can do some small things to maybe ease that transition a little bit, then I’ll do it. So I’m cleaning watches as a show of good faith for the day your father wants to come around again.”

Lev doesn’t reply right away. He’s still watching me and I keep on cleaning, because it’s work, and work’s important. My hands are busy and my mind’s at ease, or at least that’s how I think of it anyway.

“You’re such a prick sometimes,” Lev says, but he sounds like his old self for the first time since everything happens. There’s a slight smile on his face. “Seriously, I get why people find you annoying. All that perfect shit.”

“I’m far from perfect.”

“Yeah, no shit.” His smile fades. “I’m well aware.” He turns back to the restaurant.

“You should call her back, you know.”

“I’m sure you think that.”

“Seriously Lev. She misses you. Me and Nat fucked up, but you don’t owe me anything. I’m just some guy. But she’s your sister and you can’t keep blocking her out forever. That baby’s going to be your niece or nephew.”

His lips press together. “I know that.”

“Talk to her. She’s been in a bad place and I think that’ll help.”

“Why the fuck do you care?” He glances at me again and shakes his head. “Yeah, alright, I get it. Same reason you’re cleaning the watches.”

“Smart man.”

“Fuck off.” He sighs and leans back against the headrest. “Yeah, alright, I’ll think about it, okay? Not for you though. Fuck you. I’ll call because I know she’ll need me.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“Fuck off.”

We lapse into silence again. I know Lev will follow through. He’s a good person at heart and his relationship with Natalya is important to him. Right now he’s angry, but this is our new reality, and sooner or later he’s got to get past it. At least enough to forgive her.

I hope it helps.

She’s been miserable. I know I’ve been making it worse. It drives me fucking crazy, the way she comes into my apartment and starts ignoring the very simple things I ask of her. It’s not like I’m forcing her to scrub the fucking toilets—I just want her to pick up after herself.

But I also know it’s not the biggest deal in the world and I should just keep my fucking mouth shut.

I’m a prick. I’m stubborn, like her, and obsessive. But I do care about her, and I want her to patch things over with her brother.

“Holy shit, look,” Lev says, sitting up straight. He nods with his chin toward where a man’s hurrying down the block, walking away from the restaurant we’ve been staking out. “The fucker’s finally on the move.”

“Meet me a couple blocks over,” I say, jumping out. “Take the truck.”

He doesn’t argue. We’ve been working together long enough to know how this goes. I jog to the sidewalk and hurry until I’m on the guy’s tail, a tall Italian kid named Rico Malone. He’s a mid-level lieutenant in the Marino Famiglia, and we heard from legit sources that he was there the night they smashed and burned Fed to the ground.

Rico’s clueless. He’s a little drunk and he’s got his phone plastered to his face. I can’t hear him, but he’s jabbering away at someone, weaving along the sidewalk in his expensive Jordan sneakers and a gold chain that’s probably worth a fifth of what he paid for it. Unless the cheap idiot stole it from our shop.

Up ahead, the block breaks for a narrow alley, one of many in Philadelphia. The street’s dirty and covered in puddles from a rain earlier, and as Rico gets close, a truck suddenly turns down in front of him.

Rico curses and throws up his hands. Lev cut that one fucking close and nearly clipped the kid. The truck stops, blocking his path, and Rico’s cursing and kicking the tire.

I approach from behind, flip an extending baton into my hand, and crack it across his left knee.

He goes down with a scream. His phone hits the pavement and clatters away. I smash the steel baton using the hard tip to break his other kneecap. If the bone isn’t shattered, he’s one lucky mother fucker. I grab his collar and drag him into the alley, away from the light. Lev pulls the truck in, blocks the entrance, and kills the engine.

Rico rolls side to side, groaning. I crouch down and shove him up against the wall until he’s in a seated position, face sweating and twisted in agony.

“You know who I am,” I say, staring into his face.

He’s breathing hard through his teeth. “You’re that Russian fuck. You stole the girl.”

“My name’s Alexander. This is my friend, Lev.”

“Not friends,” Lev mutters as he flips a knife open. “More like reluctant colleagues.”

“The complicated nature of our relationship isn’t important.” I shove the tip of my baton into his chest. “What’s important is this. You fucked with our shop.”

“Fuck off. I didn’t do shit.”

I flick my wrist down, snag the chain, and rip it off his neck. He groans as the clasp bites into his skin before breaking. I hold it up and pass it back to Lev, who appraises it.

“One of ours,” he confirms.

Rico’s eyes widen. He says nothing for a beat. Then he pretends to get indignant. “I bought that myself. Fuck you two. Do you have any idea what’ll happen when Adriano hears about this?”

I whip the baton into his cheek. He gasps in agony as it cracks a tooth loose and rips skin along his lip. He turns sideways and spits blood.

“Here’s the thing. You stole from us. You burned our shop to the girl. You wasted millions of our dollars. And now we’re going to make you pay.”

“Fuck you,” Rico says, seething, but there’s fear in his eyes. “It wasn’t only me, okay? I wasn’t fucking alone. It wasn’t even my idea.”

“Tell me who was with you.”

“I can’t,” he moans.

Lev kneels down and jabs the tip of his knife into Rico’s hand.

The kid moans in agony as Lev rips it back out.

“Talk,” Lev says. There’s no light in his eyes. No levity, no joy. This is Lev on the job. A stone-cold psychopath killer.

The real Lev hiding beneath the smile.

Rico talks. He spills his guts. We get more names than we could’ve ever wanted. “They’re gonna kill you,” Rico says, laughing wildly, eyes jumping between us. “They’re going for the girl too. You think she’s fucking safe? That Russian bitch left Adriano at the altar, and there’s no way we can let her keep breathing. You’re so fucked. You’re both so fucked!”

I grab Rico’s hair and wrench his chin back. Lev cuts his throat from ear to ear. The blood flows into the gaps between the paving stones and pools in a low-lying depressing in the middle of the stinking alleyway.

We leave his corpse for the rats.