their hands on their guns, prepared at a moment’s notice to protect their king.
I buried myself further into my coat.
Konstantin caught the movement. “Are you cold?”
“No.”
He smiled slightly, breaking his terrifying mask for only a second, before turning forward once again.
Then, through the fog, shapes began to form. Sleek, dark motorcycles rolled forward, their engines so loud I couldn’t hear my thoughts. They parked themselves in what looked like a random order, but I knew it was purposeful. Protect the king was a common mindset, it seemed.
Men dismounted their bikes. Their husky voices blended together, making it hard to pick out a single sentence. All of them wore leather vests, decorated with emblems and words I didn’t know.
A single man stepped out from the crowd. He had a long gray beard, paired with dark sunglasses and an impressive beer gut. In small writing on his vest I could make out the word President.
“Tarkhanov,” the man greeted, his voice rough.
Konstantin bowed his head in greeting. “Hatchet.”
Hatchet slipped off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of inquisitive brown eyes. His skin might be sun damaged, his beard and hair unruly, but intelligence was obvious in his expression.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said.
“You too.” Compared to Hatchet’s rough exterior, Konstantin looked just the more terrifying. “Though it is under sad circumstances.”
Hatchet snorted in agreement. “Damn right.” He gestured to a few other men. “My VP, Jaguar, and Road Captain, Mad Dog.”
Jaguar had shocking green eyes. They contrasted against his olive skin and inky black hair like specks of electricity, whereas Mad Dog resembled his President, with the same worn features and overgrown hair. They both nodded in greeting.
“Gentlemen,” Konstantin noted. He bowed his head towards Artyom. “My security advisor, Artyom Fattakhov, and Ms Falcone.”
I wasn’t surprised he hadn’t introduced Dmitri and Roman. I was more surprised he had taken the time to introduce me.
I tried to keep the shock off my face, but I couldn’t stop myself from turning to assess his expression, to try and gather a single hint about what was working on in his brain. Had he done it to unsettle the gang? Or to unsettle me?
Why had he said Ms Falcone instead of Mrs Falcone?
“Nice to meet you all,” Hatchet said. My attention moved from Konstantin to the biker. “Let’s talk business.”
“As we came to do. Your woman?”
“Flowerpot.” He rubbed his mouth. “Or, well, Bethany Norden. She was my Treasurer’s wife.”
Behind him, a few of the men shifted on their feet. Uncomfortable.
“How did it happen?” Konstantin inquired. I was certain he already knew, he just wanted to hear it again.
Hatchet didn’t look pleased as he said, “We found her in her kitchen, beaten to death. Her teeth were removed…” His brow furrowed in a flash of fury. “Cowards probably snuck up on her. Flowerpot wouldn’t have let anybody in the house; she wasn’t stupid.”
“Did anybody see anything strange?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Most of the club was on a ride. Annual Halloween drive. And none of the other Old Ladies saw anything.”
Konstantin cast his eyes into the distance, expression almost thoughtful. “I see.”
“Heard you have some bastard,” Hatchet said. His eyes briefly darted to me. “Rumor is that some of your women were attacked.”
“We do have a man by the name of Edward Ainsworth,” Konstantin said. “He is a low-level player, however. He works for a man named Titus—does that name ring any bells?”
Hatchet shook his head. “None.” He turned to his men. “Anything?”
They all shook their heads, but the one he called Jaguar said, “It is the name of a Roman Emperor, Prez.”
“So, most likely not his given name,” Hatchet agreed. He turned back to Konstantin. “Has Edward said much?”
“Other than devoted ravings for his master, no,” Konstantin said.
“It was just one man?”
Konstantin smiled faintly. “There was another. A man by the name of Viktor Eristov, Vik to his friends.” He gestured to me. “However, Ms Falcone killed him.”
The biker’s assessed me again, trying to see the murderer in me. I glared back at them. I wasn’t some bug to be inspected beneath a microscope.
“How’d you manage that?” Hatchet asked, almost warily. Like I was a second away from attacking and killing him, also.
“I poked his eyes out.”
Konstantin’s teeth flash in delight as the bikers shifted once again. This time they weren’t uncomfortable, but wary. Watchful.
Why Konstantin had invited me to this meeting was beginning to make a lot more sense.
Faint fury sparked low in my gut. How dare he bring me out here to hold me up