Undisclosed location in the Russian Far East
The hood came off Borodin Gerasimov’s head with a snap. His brain ached, and his mouth was gummy with thirst. How long had he been drugged? Hours? Days?
He squinted into the softly lit surroundings. He’d lost his glasses in the struggle, making everything appear as shapes and blurs in his diminished eyesight.
But the smells. Moisture, chlorine, scented oils … his heart seized with fear.
Aminev’s bathhouse.
He drew in a deep breath of the humid air and calmed his brain. If Alexi Aminev wanted him dead, he’d already be dead. The fact that he was here meant Alexi wanted something else. Money, Gerasimov decided. This was a shakedown.
One of the blurs in front of him moved, drew closer, and sharpened into Alexi Aminev’s bearded face. “Did you have a good trip, Borodin? Were my boys too rough on you?” His voice was so low it was almost drowned out by the white noise of the hot tub jets in the water behind him.
He tried a smile. “No, Alexi. No problem, they had a job to do. They just got carried away.” Gerasimov tried to rise but found he was cuffed to one of the teak deck chairs that littered the bathhouse.
Don’t lose your head. Be cool.
“Alexi…” He paused. How to play this? Casual or penitent? “I—I was just about…”
Alexi’s face loomed into sharp detail. His breath smelled of sour vodka and rotten meat, and there was a chunk of something caught in his front teeth. His pupils were dark pinpoints in the muddy brown of his eyes.
Gerasimov dismissed the tingle of fear that tried to worm its way into his thoughts. Alexi Aminev was a businessman. Gerasimov was a businessman. They would reach an agreement and go their separate ways. He’d made enough in profits from the China deal that he could afford to share. Hell, he’d made enough from the China deal that he could afford to retire.
This was a negotiation. Treat it that way.
“What? You were just about to what, Borodin?” Aminev was so close that his whiskers scraped across Gerasimov’s cheek. And they were alone. Gerasimov noticed that for the first time. Where were all the women? And his ever-present entourage of tattooed confidants?
He drew his head back as far as he could. “Call you, of course. The China deal was ten times what we expected. I think success like this calls for some celebration.”
Aminev’s hairy face moved even closer, snuffling his neck. “I agree,” he said, his words almost lost in the hollow of Gerasimov’s collarbone. The other man’s beard scratched his skin as it traveled up his neck. Gerasimov’s flesh shrank in disgust.
The snuffling reached his jawline. Hot, fetid breath tickled his ear canal, offering a sick thrill of pleasure. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again when Alexi planted a wet kiss on his temple. Then the other man bit down on his ear.
Gerasimov screamed, his voice echoing in the open space.
Aminev’s face loomed in his field of view again, his lips twisted into a leer, mouth dripping blood. A piece of flesh—his flesh—poked from between Aminev’s teeth. The other man started chewing. Then he made an exaggerated swallow and a dumb show of opening his mouth to demonstrate that Gerasimov’s ear was all gone.
“You were saying, Borodin?”
A warm flow ran down Gerasimov’s neck, pooled in the hollow of his collarbone, and dripped down his chest. His breath came in quick, ragged gasps, and his vision started to close in.
A chilled glass pressed against his lips. Vodka flooded across his tongue, cutting through the gumminess of his mouth. Aminev’s meaty paw slid behind his neck, tilting his head back. “Let’s not pass out yet, Borodin. We’re just getting started.”
He choked on the vodka, but the bite of the cool alcohol cleared his head. His mind slipped into frantic calculations. “You’ve seen the news,” he said. “There’s no way they can trace it back to us.”
Aminev stood. “Hold that thought.” He padded away into the blurry land beyond Gerasimov’s vision. There was the sound of snorting. Good Christ, the man is taking more drugs.
When Aminev came back, he was shirtless. His broad chest was completely covered in fur. His heavy pectorals swung like hairy breasts, and his belly bulged over the belt. He bowed closer. “You were saying, Borodin?”
Gerasimov couldn’t tear his eyes away from the drop of blood in the man’s beard. A pink tongue snaked out and worried at the blood. Gerasimov felt the sourness rise in the back of his throat as he grappled with the truth.
He wasn’t getting out of here alive.
“Take the money!” he screamed. “All of it. It’s yours. You can still get away.”
Aminev’s eyes glittered. His hand slid behind Gerasimov’s neck again. Powerful, but strangely comforting. He pressed his forehead against Gerasimov’s. “You don’t get away from the Brotherhood, Boris. You know that.” He giggled. “They’re coming for me. It’s just a matter of time.”
He reached behind his back and drew out a Grach handgun. Gerasimov’s eyes followed the weapon as the other man laid it on the stone floor. He grinned up at Gerasimov. “You thought this was for you? Too easy, Borodin. This is for me. But before I go I have one thing to take care of.”
He stood and stretched, the powerful muscles of his upper body rippling. “You, Borodin, you fucked me.” One set of hairy knuckles pawed at his belt buckle. Gerasimov heard the sound of a zipper.
“Get ready, Borodin, because now I’m going to fuck you.”
Gerasimov tore at his restraints. The heavy chair rocked on the stone floor.
Aminev stepped out of his trousers, and Gerasimov caught a flash of red silk underwear. The other man hooked a thumb in the waistband and dragged them down his thighs.
Gerasimov screamed and pushed back against the chair with all his might. The front legs rose off the floor; the chair teetered for an instant, then fell backwards.
Hot water and shiny bubbles surrounded him in the hot tub. The chair sank slowly until it clunked against the cement bottom of the pool.
He opened his eyes in the frothy hot water. Alexi Aminev, fully unclothed, stood on the rim of the pool.
Gerasimov blew all the air out of his lungs and opened his mouth wide.