“What about sleeping pills?” I ask.
“Don’t you think I already tried those?” He sighs and resumes cleaning the gun. “It doesn’t work. Nothing fucking works.”
“Did you consider quitting? Leaving the Bratva and going to some deserted island or whatever?”
“Yeah, it wouldn’t do it for me. Without work, I would probably flip completely.”
And God save us all if that ever happens. If Sergei does flip at some point, someone will have to put him down like a rabid dog.
“How about swapping with Pavel? You could take the clubs. Less stress there.”
He looks up at me and bursts out laughing. “Can you imagine our polished put-together Pavel negotiating with Mendoza? Don’t get me wrong, Pavel does a great job with the clubs, but Mendoza would eat him alive. We would lose millions.”
We probably would. I still find it hard to understand, but Sergei is exceptionally good at what he does. It seems that in order to do good business with unhinged people, you need to have your own lunatic who speaks their kind of crazy.
“And what about the meeting with his men tonight?” I ask. “Can you handle that, or should I go instead?”
He looks up at me and smiles. “You hate meetings.”
“Yeah, well, Pakhan’s orders.” I shrug. “So?”
“It would be best if you go. I’m not sure how much shit my sleep-deprived brain can deal with at the moment. Roman doesn’t like my way of showing displeasure.”
“Like trying to cut off Shevchenko’s hand when he asked for better terms?”
“What he asked for was a steal.” He reaches under the table, takes out a big metal box that looks rather heavy, and places it on the table. “Do you know what they do to thieves in some countries? They cut off their hands. I like that practice.”
Why am I not even slightly surprised? I look at my watch. “I better go then.”
Sergei nods. “Don’t let them lead you on. We already set up the rates and quantities for this quarter, I’ll text you the numbers.”
“Alright.” I stand up. “Call me if you need anything. And please start taking Roman’s calls.”
“Sure.” He shrugs, opens the lid of the box, and takes out something that looks like a small grenade launcher.
“You don’t have a tank stashed in the garage, do you?”
“A tank? Why the fuck would I keep a tank in the garage?”
“No reason. I was just wondering.”
“If you need a tank, I can ask Luca. He has the best shit.”
“Luca Rossi?” I look at him. “If Roman finds out you are buying guns from the Italians, it won’t end well. You know we agreed on exclusive for weapons purchases with Dushku.”
“I can buy my personal guns from whomever I want, Mikhail.” He smirks. “But it would be for the best if Roman doesn’t find out. He’ll probably throw a fit, you know what a drama queen my brother is.”
I shake my head. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will. Let me know if you change your mind about that tank.”
When I get back to my car, I call Sisi, then Denis, and after that send a message to Bianca.
21:19 Mikhail: I don’t know when I’m coming back, probably in the morning. Sisi will come early to help Lena prepare for day care. Denis will come to take you to your ballet class after he drops them off. I will be waiting for you when you are done. Just text me the address.
Afterward, I call Roman to update him on Sergei, put the phone on the dash, start the car, and curse. The only thing I hate more than business negotiations with our suppliers is clubs.
Chapter 10
When I exit the school building around noon, Mikhail is already waiting for me by his monstrous SUV. He is leaning on the hood with his arms crossed in front of his chest, looking mean and sexy in his all-black outfit and aviator glasses. His casual posture says he doesn’t have a care in the world, but I’m not fooled. He is aware of everything happening around him. I’ve noticed how he scans his environment every time he arrives somewhere, weighing all possible threats in the vicinity. It’s as if he is always expecting someone to jump out of the bushes and start shooting.
“How was the class?” he asks when I approach.
I don’t intend to discuss the fact that the class went great, or that they asked me to come again next week. Mikhail owes me something from last night, and I plan on taking it. I stop in front of him, cock my head, and regard him through narrowed eyes.