45. Andrey

45

ANDREY

The neon sign sits against a hot pink backsplash. Hot Chick. No points for subtlety.

Even from the outside, it smells like cheap booze and desperation. The kind of place my brother loves to frequent. To further prove my point, the halls are wreathed with smoke and the floors are filthy, but I'm not here for the ambience.

Byron Wells is playing darts by the bar. His back is to me, so he doesn't see me take a seat around the nearby billiards table. Just as I grab the menu on the table, a chorus of cheers echoes from behind the pillar.

"Nice shot, By!"

"You the man."

"You're killin' it tonight."

Tilting back in my chair, I peer around the corner.

Byron is reclining on a barstool like it's a throne, both his elbows planted on the bar counter. His hair is slicked back with a thick wad of gel and he's wearing a silk shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest.

"It's been a good day all around." No one asks, but he adds, "Scored a nice li'l victory at work."

"Does this victory have something to do with that hot ass little assistant of yours?" one of his friends asks.

"Maybe." Byron shrugs coyly. "Maybe not."

"She finally put out?"

I can't even pretend to be interested in the menu anymore. When the waitress walks over, I wave her away. She stalks off looking disappointed.

"Not yet," Byron says. "But she will."

So much confidence. It's just another nail in his coffin.

But one of his friends is looking skeptical. "This the same woman who's been playing hard to get all this time? What changed?"

"She finally realized my worth," Byron crows. "She wants a powerful man, and that's what I am. It's only a matter of time before I'm bending her over my desk and showing her how powerful I can be."

Without even realizing it, I'm on my feet. I didn't mean for this to become such a public spectacle, but fuck it—I'll act first and figure out damage control later.

But before I can advance on him, Byron pushes himself to standing. "Gotta take a leak. Be right back."

Fucking perfect. The simple act of following him across the bar to the men's room sends a surge of adrenaline shooting through me.

This feels good.

This feels right.

This feels like the old days, before the political ploys and the shadow wars. Back when I had one simple task and it was just a matter of executing it to perfection.

The lights flicker ominously as I slip into the bathroom. I take one quick scan, confirm that Byron and I are the only ones here, and barricade the door shut.

If all goes well, this shouldn't take more than ten minutes.

Five, if he dies quickly.

To save myself the mess, I let him finish at the urinal and shift over to the sink. It's not until he's washing his hands that he gives me a casual glance in the mirror, followed by a violent double-take.

His face is deathly pale as he whips around to face me. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I'm ranking the sleaziest bars in New York City. When I saw you in here, I knew I found the winner."

He shrinks away from me, leaning into the counter so far that the running water drenches his sleeves. "L-Listen, man?—"

I take a step towards him and sweat beads across his forehead in the dim light. "I gave you a warning, didn't I?"

He's shaking his head frantically. "No, no… I didn't do anything! Mr. Ewes is the one that?—"

I head-butt him so hard that his eyes roll back in their sockets. The clack of bone on bone is viciously satisfying.

"No," he sobs through a mouth that doesn't want to work right. "I didn't…"

"Shut the fuck up, mudak." I snatch him by the back of his neck, nails digging into his sweaty flesh as I force him into one of the bathroom stalls. The water sitting at the bottom of the toilet is fittingly murky.

Just what this fucker deserves.

"No, no, no… plea?—"

His cries are cut off as his head disappears into the toilet. Water sloshes around him as he struggles to breathe, but it's easy to keep him down. So easy to hold him here and let his life drain away.

But not yet.

Wrenching him back up for a moment, I speak while he gasps and splutters wordlessly. "You picked the wrong woman to mess with."

"Please!" he screams.

But his panicked eyes only fuel my disgust. "She's the last woman you will ever prey on."

And with that, I dunk his head back into the dirty piss water. This time, I don't let go of him until he's stopped struggling, until his body goes limp and his head bobs peacefully in the water.

Good fucking riddance.

Straightening up, I close the cubicle door and give my hands a thorough wash before I open the door. There's a disgruntled older man waiting outside, aiming an evil eye in my direction. Ignoring him, I pass the bar on my way out.

"Where's By?" I hear one of his friends asking.

"He's plastered. He probably fell in…"

With a satisfied smirk, I leave behind the oppressive bar. The air outside is clean and fresh compared with the smoke and grime of the bar. But I can't appreciate it just yet.

I have one more score to settle before the night is over. Thankfully, Richard Ewes's brownstone is only a short drive away.

Shura is leaning against the passenger side door of his Escalade when I drive up.

"Well?" I ask once I've joined him.

"He's asleep in his bed," Shura informs me. "And you're in luck: he's alone tonight. The wife's in Kentucky visiting her parents."

"Security system?"

"I disabled it a few minutes ago. You're free to walk in."

I clap him on the back. "Good man."

Shura sighs grimly as I make my way up the steps to the brownstone. He volunteered to be my backup for tonight, and I know why. Despite his hard, brusque exterior, Natalia has succeeded in worming her way into his heart, too.

He doesn't want to see her hurt any more than I do.

I let myself into Richard's house as easily as if it were my own. It's clean and utterly bland, like it was ripped from the pages of a suburban furniture catalog.

I pass a side table bearing several framed photographs, all of the same couple: a self-satisfied Richard with a much younger woman on his arm.

Men like him are all the same: So. Fucking. Predictable.

I climb up one flight of stairs and find the master bedroom on my right.

Richard is sprawled across the bed, the duvet thrown to the side to reveal his pudgy, naked body. I wrinkle my nose in disgust at the sight of his tiny, shriveled penis lying limply against a shroud of blonde curly pubic hair.

But it's a fitting way for this to play out.

I use zip-ties to strap the bastard to his headboard. As I'm lashing down his second hand, he starts to stir. I finish the ties, then drag the ostentatious armchair by the window to his bedside and wait as he blinks himself awake.

"Sorry to drop in so late, Richard—" He whirls towards me, the whites of his eyes gleaming with panic. "—but we have important matters to discuss."

"What the—" he gasps, looking around the shadowy room as though it'll offer him some explanation. "Andrey?"

I cross my legs and click my tongue impatiently. "I really don't have time to wait for you to catch up, Richard."

He starts straining against the zip-ties. "You can't just… This is my house ! I could have you arrested!"

I smile coldly. "Go ahead. Call the police."

He thrashes against the ties for only a few seconds before he realizes just how fucked this situation is for him. He's not a stupid man, not like Byron. Just an unfortunate one.

"What do you want?" he whimpers.

"You suspended Natalia."

"You had sex with her in the office in full sight of a camera! What choice did I have?"

"And what about Byron Wells?"

Richard sags. "What about him?"

"I had my men do a little digging into Byron's history in your company. Apparently, there have been quite a few sexual harassment complaints lodged against him over the years. By quite a few different women."

"I… Er, that is…" he splutters, spit flying everywhere.

"Get to the point fast, Richard—you're losing me."

He swallows hard. His Adam's apple bobs violently. "What happened with you and Natalia has nothing to do with Byron. They're completely different situations."

"I agree. The incident between Natalia and me in the office was completely consensual. The situation with Byron was not."

"There is footage of?—"

"I don't give a fuck what footage you have," I growl. Richard flushes red, then purple, then white with abject fear. "I don't care if I fucked Natalia on your damn desk. It still doesn't explain why she gets consequences while Byron gets a free pass."

"Human Resources will want to do an internal review and?—"

I hold up my hand and Richard's jaw snaps shut. "I don't give a shit about the specifics. I don't care about the damn process. I want this situation fixed—and you are going to fix it for me."

"I can't… I?—"

"You're the CEO of the company; you can do whatever you want. And trust me, Richard, you're gonna want to make me happy. Because if I'm not happy, I'm gonna come back here." I look around the room, taking in the jewelry dish on the other side of the bed. "Maybe next time, you can introduce me to your pretty little wife."

He blanches. "Don't hurt her!" he begs.

"I have no intention of hurting her. But I might make her watch me hurt you. Just depends on how much you piss me off."

His eyeballs look like they're going to pop out of their sockets. For the second time tonight, the stink of ammonia hits my nostrils like a sledgehammer. A dark stain spreads across the bed around Richard's crotch.

Honestly, it's almost enough to make me crave a showdown with Nikolai.

At least the man has a smidgeon more pride. At least he will pose a slightly bigger challenge.

This… this is like shooting fish in a barrel.

"Really, Richard." I wrinkle my nose. "There's no need to be afraid. Not as long as you do exactly what I ask of you."

He nods, tears rolling unchecked down his cheeks. "Alright. Okay. What do you want from me?"

I get to my feet. "First thing tomorrow, you will reinstate Natalia and wipe clean any black marks on her record. You will also give her a raise and an apology for your glaring lapse in judgment." I crack my knuckles and then my neck. "Personally, I think Natalia can do much better than your shitty little operation. But as long as she wants to work for you, I expect her to have a job there. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"Then we're in agreement." I pull out a knife, causing Richard to piss himself a little more. "Get a hold of yourself, man. I'm just going to cut you loose."

The moment his hands are free, he snatches his duvet and fumbles to cover himself. Smirking, I walk to the door.

"Wait!" I glance at him over my shoulder and listen. "What do you want me to do about Byron?"

"You don't have to worry about Byron. I've already taken care of that problem for you." I smile and pull the door closed. "You're welcome."