Painted Scars: Chapter 19

Two weeks later

I lean back and regard Maxim as he approaches my desk.

“I’m listening,” I say.

“The next shipment is set to arrive tomorrow night.”

“How many crates?”

“Eleven. That’s the best we could do on short notice.”

“Make sure you check every gun. I don’t want mishaps on Saturday. Italians don’t suspect anything?”

“No.”

“Good. Make sure you rotate the men frequently for the next few days. What’s the assault plan?”

“Two teams. Six foot soldiers each. Dimitri and Anton will be going with the first team. Mikhail and Yuri with the second.”

“Leave Mikhail out.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to risk him getting shot, Lena needs him. Send Sergei instead.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Sergei’s behavior became even more erratic recently. He won’t follow Yuri’s orders.”

“Of course, he won’t.” I curse and throw the document I’ve been reading. “I’ll come with Sergei. Yuri can’t shoot worth a damn anyway.”

Maxim stares at me as if I’ve gone mad. Maybe I have. “Over my dead body, Roman.”

“It’s not open for a discussion. I’m the only one who can make sure Sergei behaves.”

He regards me with his jaw set in hard line, takes off his glasses and angrily points them at me. “You can’t fucking walk.”

“Maybe I can’t walk, but other than Sergei, I’m still Bratva’s best shooter.”

“I won’t allow it, Roman. It’s suicide.”

“Oh? Then let’s just give a mentally unstable person a gun and a bunch of explosives, and send him on the field without supervision? Sergei is capable of annihilating a whole city block in under an hour.”

“Well, we won’t send Sergei then. You pulled him from field duty for a reason.”

“This is a special occasion. With supervision, having Sergei in the field is like having a one-man assault battalion. I need either Mikhail or Sergei on Saturday. And Mikhail is staying out of it.”

Maxim doesn’t comment, only shakes his head and squeezes his temples.

“You never saw Sergei in the field.” I lean back in my chair while a serene smile spreads over my face. “It’s a thing of beauty. Do you know that he once cleared an enemy warehouse all by himself? Fourteen people. And he only got shot once.”

“It’s no wonder you two are blood-related,” Maxim sighs. “You’re both completely insane.”

“Well, that’s settled then.” I lean forward to close the laptop. “What about her?”

“She’s having an exhibit next month. Ivan saw the poster.”

“Just the showing, or a sales exhibit?”

“I will check.”

“If it’s sales, call the gallery in advance and buy everything.” I look up. “Anonymously. Anything else?”

I notice him tense and look to the side.

“Anything else, Maxim?”

“She changed her hair.”

“Did she cut it?”

“No. Just dyed it.”

“Blonde?”

“No. It . . . it’s purple.”

She dyed her hair purple. I can’t help but smile a little.

“That’s all, Maxim.”