The Marriage (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 3) Bethany-Kris (read this if txt) 📖

set up to me—like you’re forcing me to walk into another pile of shit I don’t see. Give me some fucking answers.”

Maxim’s attention fixated on the gun between the two sitting in the middle of the table, although closer to Demyan.

“You’ll have to ... get rid of it,” Maxim said. “And the car outside, too.”

Demyan’s brow sipped low. “What?”

“Your bratva will have to claim the killing of Dima.”

The killing—

“You’re not making any sense.”

“I am,” Maxim returned just as fast, “you’re just not getting all the details.”

And when were they ever important?

Demyan heard what the man didn’t say.

“What are you really here for, Maxim?”

“Chicago will be leaderless. It’s already in ruins. They’ll fear you. They already respect you. Dima’s death with just—”

“You’re insane,” Demyan uttered.

Again, his gaze fell to the gun just an arm’s length away. The fog of confusion and frustration was beginning to clear, and Demyan could see where Maxim was going with this. Even if he didn’t seem to want to outright say it.

He wanted to end his story his own way.

“It’s right there, Demyan,” Maxim said, his voice urging Demyan to met the man’s eyes. “Pick it up, finish the job here ... I’ve already put everything else into place. Make sure they find the body. Claim this death, too.”

“I don’t know that you’ve done anything, actually.”

“This way, we both get what we want.”

“This way?”

“Demyan—”

“You can’t ask me to do this,” Demyan barked.

“I haven’t even properly asked yet. Would it make you feel better if it felt like I forced your hand?”

“How can you joke about this?”

Maxim only smiled. “What good is a friend if he won’t kill you when there’s no other choice?”

That joke fell flat, too.

Demyan was cold all over.

“It’ll work,” Maxim assured quietly.

He couldn’t look away from the gun again.

“You said to claim Dima’s death, but he’s not dead, Maxim.”

“But he will be.”

Demyan reached for the gun, then, the butt smooth against his palm as he felt that substantial weight of metal in his hand. “One last time—where is she?”

“She’ll find you.”

He didn’t bother to ask what that meant.

What good would it do?

“I would rather have you do it than someone else,” Maxim said when Demyan flicked off the safety and racked the gun without a word. Maybe his rambling helped soothe whatever nerves were making themselves known in those last seconds. “I can trust you to make it quick, and clean. I won’t do it myself. Not the ... honorable thing.”

A piece of Demyan understood that ...

“Anything else you want?” Demyan asked.

The man only really came here to die, anyway.

“Tell her what I said, look me in the eye when you do it, and don’t waste time,” Maxim replied. “I’ve wasted enough already. I’m sure everybody would just like to get on with it by now.”

So be it.

Demyan stood up from the chair, and aimed his gun. He didn’t take his eyes off Maxim when he pulled the trigger.

NINETEEN

“You’re still sitting in here—shit, have you even turnt a trick?”

Karine’s head snapped up at the sharp, high-pitch voice of a girl that had made more than one comment since she walked through the door three days before.

Neena, with her long, beachy waves and loud personality was just one of a few girls in the Madame’s stable that kept trying to bring Karine out of her shell. You’d think there’d be more cattiness amongst women who specifically gathered for the sole purpose of selling sex, but actually, they all seemed quite friendly. Like a little crew that constantly came and went through the front doors of Madame Cherie’s Chicago townhouse.

She didn’t think the girls meant any harm, but she was well aware of things they would never know ...

Like someday, she wouldn’t be here.

They were only a means to end.

What was the point in making friends?

“You know, I got two nights before I finally got turned out,” Neena told Karine. “You’ve got an extra one on me. You nervous?”

Why was she still trying to make conversation? Hell, Karine had yet to figure out why she agreed to this plan of her father’s ...

Or if she could see it through.

“I—”

She was saved from having to make conversation with the young woman when Cherie made her presence known in the doorway of the bedroom Karine had been allowed to use. The Madame didn’t knock or even ask if she could enter before she did—and that partly answered a question Karine had about this place, and these women.

They weren’t completely free here, either.

Everybody paid a due.

“I found a wig for you,” Cherie said, striding over with a chunky blonde mane of unruly curls in her hand. Even at six feet tall, the woman still wore towering heels. Her height was as impressive as her cold demeanor could be when she dealt with her girls. “Although, it’ll need some work. Neena—did you have something for me?”

Just like that, Neena was reminded of her place, and made her presence scarce without another word. They didn’t want to make their mom mad, as most called Cherie. Or that’s what Karine noticed. Every woman that came in and out of the house with phones constantly beeping or ringing, never left without putting money on the counter. And they were all well cared for while they did it.

As long as Cherie was happy.

Karine smiled, unable to contain her amusement, while Cherie stood behind her to help her put the wig on. First, Karine’s hair had to be tied up and glued down, the woman explained, but even a good tug wouldn’t bring it off by the time she was done.

“I think we should go with something white,” Cherie told her. “It’s exactly the look Dima would appreciate in the girls. He often asks for it, and I’m sure when he gets back tonight and makes a call for a favorite, he’ll be happy to hear there’s someone new to try.”

Karine couldn’t meet the woman’s gaze in the mirror anymore.

She hadn’t known when it would happen—when all of this would suddenly turn