28. Yuri

Katya and I, both, were still sorting things out about what we talked about and what it meant for both of us. These were still the halcyon days, but they were coming to an end, and quickly, however much we both didn’t want them to end.

I was distracted by Maxim and Anton and trying to figure out the password protected disk that was the key to everything, taking down Viktor and solving Dmitry’s death without alienating Katya from me forever.

I sat in my makeshift office and tried the encrypted disk password again. The problem was still whether the password was Tasha’s—and so possible to figure out from knowing her—, or Petya’s, and so im possible to figure out because he’s a psychopath whose depths cannot be plumbed by the rational mind. Even torture wouldn’t work— a masochist like Petya would enjoy the pain.

I should ask Anton what his guy Nikita has found out, if anything. Any information would be helpful here. Without something go on, I’m a dog chasing his tail here.

As I was thinking where Anton might be, Maxim came by and watched me from the doorway. He could never remain silent for more than 30 seconds, usually, but he held his mouth closed for more than a minute now, until his self-restraint became unbearable.

“What is it Maxim?”

“Just wanted to tell you the word has been spread around that she’s in one of three places, and they’re all heavily guarded, this one obviously by us. But if we expect him, we should get scarce soon, make it look like Katya is alone here.”

“Soon,” I tell him absentmindedly. The password and whatever was on this disk was just as important.

“Boss …” Maxim started again, trailing off until I met his eyes.

I’ve never seen him less sure of himself. If he was kneading his hands together or looking down and rubbing a spot on the floor with his shoe it would be less obvious, he had something to say but didn’t want to say it.

“What is it Max? Tell me what’s on your mind.” There’s never been very much on his mind, so I am actually curious now.

“If this plan works, and we get Petya, we don’t need the disk. Why still bother with it?”

“Belt and suspenders. If the belt fails, the suspenders are plan B so you don’t get caught with your pants down. It just good planning.”

“I get that boss, but it seems all you really care about is the disk, why is that?” he asked, a leading question.

“You tell me since you obviously have an answer to that.”

“My thinking is with the disk, you find out everything in a way that doesn’t put Katya at risk and that doesn’t alienate her from you— having to kill her father and all. The disk will solve that problem for you. But my question is why is that a problem at all? She’s not supposed to matter, but she seems to matter quite a bit to you.”

“That’s what you’ve figured out?” I demand. “Tasha died for whatever is on this disk, too. Maybe Dmitry. That’s why it matters to me. Fuck the plan working out either way. One way they died for nothing, but if we find out what’s on here, they didn’t.”

“Okay Yuri,” he held his hand up, palms out to me, “Whatever you say. Still, we should leave Katya alone, work on the disk from the apartment above the garage.”

“Okay, you go and gather all this stuff. I’ll let Katya know.”

“I figured you would, Boss,” he gave a knowing grin, an impudent smirk, until I stared daggers at him and he wiped it off his face before leaving.

Maxim was the dumb one.

There was no way he was right, unless I was so obviously in love with Katya that it was apparent even to him. I said the words because she needed to hear them, and I needed to say them, but I hadn’t reflected on them too much and whether they were actually true. They were true when Dmitry died, but I put that someplace deep and dark that no one could find. Not even me. Had Katya coaxed it out?

I wear this mask so often it’s difficult to tell where Yuri the Bratva don and Yuri the person starts and end. Lovesick and obvious wasn’t me, that was preposterous. And even if it wasn’t, I could hide it easily, unconsciously, from someone like Maxim.

Maxim is the dumb one, he’s wrong about this, like usual.

But a tiny, nagging voice in my head seemed to keep saying, ‘Maybe not’. He might be the dumb one, but usually it takes ages for him to warm up to a new person, and here he is, taking her side over mine. Sticking up for her. How the fuck did she manage that in just a few days?

She had made the terrible mistake of falling in love with me, but had I made the same terrible mistake?

It didn’t really matter in the end; it couldn’t be whatever it was. It wasn’t nothing. I felt something . Something I couldn’t put a name on, but it was still something, not nothing.

It would be a total victory in her eyes if I admitted to this something. Maybe I should give her this one. She’s been taking quite a few L’s lately, one W would be good for her, and it’s not like I can’t be magnanimous and spare one for her. That might make me feel better about leaving her here as cheese for the Petya mousetrap.

I try her door and it’s locked. Locked. On me.

“Open the door, Katya,” I speak through clenched teeth.

Pure challenge in that sotto voce reply, “You’re not the boss of me.”

“I might not be the boss of you right now, but I’m going to be the boss of this entire Bratva and you will stop acting like a spoiled little brat, now open the door before I break it down,” I command her.

“Try,” she says.

I kick the door just to the left of the doorknob and the door and door jamb crack, but don’t break open. That just makes me angrier. I take one step back and kick with all my might, the door flies open in front of me.

“Come here, now,” I tell her, as if my face wasn’t enough.

Katya’s spine goes ramrod straight. “Say that again,” she snarls.

I don’t bother. Instead I grabbed her and toss her over my shoulder. I turn and haul a cursing Katya through the hall and take her to my bedroom since the door to hers is now splintered.

I set her down on her feet, and she immediately pounded at my chest with her closed fists. I let her. When she sees it having no effect on me, her rage doubles, I dodge a swing at my face, catching her fist.

Her eyes widen and she lifts her leg to swing at my balls as I turn my hips to dodge, her foot landing on my thigh. That’ll leave a bruise, no doubt.

When she tries it again, I’m mad, I grab her ankle and yank her off her feet, following her to the floor as I wrestle her docile, her wrists pinned on either side of her head.

“That’s enough,” I tell her calmly.

“Fuck you.” She’s so furious her chocolate eyes feel almost red with her anger and are shooting daggers at me.

“Shut up,” I tell her calmly, again.

But she doesn’t. She tries to throw me off her, like I don’t outweigh her by a ton. “Make me!”

So, this is her game.

She arches up, I dip down, our lips are locked and I’m kissing a struggling, angry wasp of a Katya into submission.

She tastes like victory.

I start to say something, but she snaps, “Shut up, Yuri. Just shut the hell up,” and she arches her body up to mine, and kisses me hard.

She tries to flip us, but I pin her to the floor with my hips, not letting her go. She’s furious underneath me, her nails scratch my back, and her hands pull down my pants as I help, rolling my hips into hers, my cock pressing against her warm entrance.

I rip her pants off with a loud tear as the seam comes apart. She tugs at my pants harder, her nails in my ass, pulling me towards her.

We’re fighting for control and though I’m winning by shear force and physics, she’s putting up an impressive fight on pure hatred and frustration.

She looks up at me with that wounded panther look to her and spits at me, “If you don’t love me, then at least fuck me like you hate me.”