Chapter 6: Chapter Five

Police suspect the Pier Killer may be a woman based on the hate crime toward women’s reproductive organs, reports reveal. —The Seattle Tribune

Nikolai

The elevator doors closed. I glanced at my reflection through the smooth metallic surface and looked away.

My entire life I’d avoided mirrors, shiny surfaces—anything that would reveal to me what I already knew about myself.

That I was a monster.

The eyes are the window to the soul, and I knew better than anyone else that mine was a very dark place.

In bartering for Maya’s life, I hadn’t once thought about what I would do when I was finished with her.

Granted, she had to survive that long.

And so many pieces had to fall into place for that to happen that I knew getting attached would damn near kill me, destroy possibly the last shred of humanity I had left.

When the doors opened, I forced a smile across my lips—it felt awkward—it always did because happiness was such a foreign emotion I wasn’t sure I would even recognize it if it came and hit me upside the head.

“Mr. Blazik.” Tom Mikelson, one of the board members, walked by me giving a slight wave of his hand.

“Tom.” I nodded and forced the smile wider. “How’s your wife? Recovering from hip surgery?”

“Oh yes.” Tom rocked back on his heels then pushed his spectacles up on his large nose.

He resembled a younger version of Santa Claus, with graying hair, ruddy cheeks and pronounced lips and nose, he was the closest thing to a friend I had.

Which was pathetic when I really thought about it.

“She loved the flowers.” He nervously tapped his pen against his leg as he was prone to do when I engaged in conversation with him. He was fidgety, always fidgety when approached by authority.

“You didn’t really have to do that.”

“I did,” I said in a soft voice, trying to put him at ease. “And I’m happy she’s doing well.”

“Yes well.” Tom cleared his throat.

“Was there something else?”

He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Mr. Petrov is waiting for you in your office. I noticed him waltz in when I was coming down to deliver some contracts.”

“Thank you.” I touched his shoulder. “I’ll deal with him. Why don’t you take a long lunch?” I pulled back. “In fact, take off the afternoon, visit that wife of yours.”

His eyes narrowed in the protective way they often did when he suddenly felt the need to come to my defense, I might be the boss but he had a son my age, and always felt the need to step up to the battle if called.

“Listen Nikolai, if Petrov is sniffing around again I can—”

“It’s fine.” I chuckled. “I promise. Now, go take care of your wife, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He licked his lips, his eyes darting back and forth with uncertainty before he stepped back and nodded. “Right. I’ll do that.”

“Good afternoon, Tom.”

“Nikolai.”

He rarely called me by my first name. It still made him uncomfortable to do so, and he only threw it out there when he was concerned. I thought of it as a paternal instinct, but I wouldn't know.

Both my parents were dead.

I straightened my tie and made my way to my office.

Sheila, my assistant, shared a look of disdain with me before shaking her head and grabbing her purse.

“An hour should be adequate.” I opened the door for her to leave and listened to her heels click against the marble floors. Typically, she took her breaks whenever Petrov was in the building.

I didn't want her asking questions, and I sure as hell didn't need her to know what was going on so that she could incriminate not only herself but my entire company.

I reached for the door to my office and pulled it open.

Classical music floated through the air. The distinct smell of expensive cigars and my finest whiskey gave way to the familiar scent of Petrov.

He was seated at my desk as if he owned the damn world, twirling a cigar between his fingers.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“As well as could be expected.” I walked over to the sidebar and poured myself a healthy glass of whiskey and sat on the couch, showing him my ease at his visit even while I was wondering in the back of my mind if he really would keep his end of the bargain.

“Good.” He stood. “I was worried.”

“Bullshit.” I took a swig of whiskey. “Try again.”

He pulled his lips back, revealing even white teeth as he formed a menacing smile against his pale complexion and dark hair.

Petrov was a large man, he enjoyed the finer things in life and it showed in his skin and inability to wear a suit that wasn't made strictly for his large body.

“Can a father not be concerned for his daughter?”

I pressed my lips together to keep myself from insulting him and stood. What about his other daughter? The one that was currently dying from cancer? Did he care for her?

Just thinking of Andi made me want to run my fist through the man's arrogant face, but now wasn't the time to act, not yet. “So, now that you know she's just fine, you'll be leaving?

“Wasn't that part of the deal?”

“The deal…” he repeated, puffing out smoke from his mouth. “I've come to renegotiate.”

“No.” I walked slowly toward the door.

“I rarely hear that word.”

“I wonder if it's because you kill the individuals before they have a chance to utter it.” I tilted my head in amusement. “Now, if that's all?”

“This isn't over.” Petrov put out his cigar on my mahogany desk and strutted toward the door. “Eventually you will renegotiate, you'll need a favor so I keep your little secret quiet.”

It wasn’t fear I experienced in that moment, more like dread. I’d fought for years to keep my identity a secret, to keep my family name in the clear.

“The contract states you have no choice.” I crossed my arms. “So, unless one of us breaks said contract…”

“Hah.” He tilted his head back and barked out a strangled laugh. “Have you seen my Maya? I’m surprised the contract isn’t already void.”

“I have self-control.” Disgusted that my suspicions were correct, I turned away from him, giving him my back was basically like pulling a gun on the man. It was disrespectful, but it was all I had.

Having him in the same building, let alone the same city as Maya didn’t sit well with me. She’d always been more of a pawn than a daughter, and I was beginning to realize how much.

“Till we meet again,” Petrov said in a calm voice.

The door to my office shut with a quiet click.

And I was left staring at the smoking cigar on my desk. Wondering how the hell I was going to keep my end of the bargain, when ten minutes ago I was contemplating all the ways I could break it.