Knocked Up By the Russian Boss by Bella King
Chapter 17
MAXIM
Sergei and I double-check the address as we head out to the house of the IT specialist. Slava has come along more or less as a guard of sorts, which frees up Sergei and me to discuss logistics. If the images online are correct, there are three different entry points in the house that aren’t windows.
Under normal circumstances, I would anticipate that any computer specialist worth their salt would have a sophisticated armed security system, but in a gated community, that would just be overkill.
At least, I hope so. The way these assholes get through their days is by pretending that everybody is out to get them. It gives them something to protect, a sense of importance.
Surprisingly, all we have to do to enter the community is give the name of the person we’re allegedly visiting. The gate guards obviously don’t care and hate these people just as much as anybody would. I can’t say I blame them, having to deal with the absolute pinnacle of self-important, existentially bored rich people day in and day out.
We roll up to the house silently. Slava is tense and obviously eager to rip heads off, but I doubt he’ll have to do anything at all with how quiet it is. I wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbors.
The house is just as we had thought, exactly like all the others in the neighborhood, surrounded by a sea of obsessively manicured grass that I guarantee nobody is allowed to walk on. The lack of taste and excess despite the means to have something better makes me dislike this guy even more than I already did.
We decide to go in through the front door. Hiding in plain sight seems to work better in residential areas where all of the alcoholic housewives are waiting by the windows, gazing out into their quiet streets to find something to call the cops about.
Breaking in is surprisingly easy, too. That’s what he gets for feeling too safe.
As we step inside, I expect an immediate altercation, and I keep my pistol up as we make our way through the house. The inside is no better than the outside, except now it’s glaringly evident that this guy has no wife or girlfriend to make his house more livable. It’s a little pathetic.
Slava is chomping at the bit for a fight, but I’m afraid he isn’t going to get one. There’s no trace of the guy being here. No car in the driveway, no noise inside the house, no movement whatsoever.
I have to say I’m a little disappointed for Slava myself, but the part of my brain that isn’t animalistic and testosterone-driven knows that making a scene will only make matters worse for everyone. All we need to do is get the laptop and get the hell out of here.
“I think I found the office,” Sergei says, motioning toward a room that’s just off the kitchen.
I move with him through the doorway.
It’s a pretty standard home office, just as uninspired and depressing as the rest of the house. Ivory’s laptop is easy to spot, being the only one that features a Vineyard Vines sticker. I remember it from when I snooped in her apartment.
“I’m just going to grab it and leave. We can’t stick around here,” I say to both Sergei and Slava, who are taking their time studying every minute detail of the house as if they’re going to buy it themselves.
Sergei glares at me. “Come on, this guy would be so fun to fuck with,” he says as he motions toward a collection of Dragonball Z Blu-ray discs, proudly displayed on the wall nearest to the master bedroom.
“Absolutely fucking not. He might be a huge nerd, but he’s got tons of leverage within the police department, and he could probably ruin us easily if any trace of us was left,” I reply.
Sergei rolls his eyes. “Why the fuck do you need to be a boy scout all of a sudden? We’re literally here so that you can get a girl. There’s no payout for Slava or me,” he replies.
He’s right, but I don’t like that he’s complaining about it.
And besides, it’s not all for nothing. If I’m able to permanently sink my claws into a family with tons of political influence, that could secure the future of the Family indefinitely. We could back out of the pharmaceutical side of the business and eliminate the associated risks.
Of course, Sergei hates doing any work whatsoever, so I can see where he’s coming from. No big picture, no macro scale, just Sergei missing out on another day of watching TV and getting high. He doesn’t even have any heads to bust with Slava.
“Come on …” Sergei whines.
“Why can’t you just do what the fuck I tell you to? It’s not like anything good can come of you trashing some dude’s house, especially not someone who could fuck our shit up if they found out,” I reply.
Sergei likes to pretend that he and I are on the same level when it comes to staying ahead of the opposition. There’s a part of him that knows it isn’t true, but instead of listening to that part, he chooses to let it make him insecure.
“Fuck you, man, I broke into this house for you,” he continues as Slava stands against the wall awkwardly, glancing back and forth at us both.
“Whatever, we’re leaving anyway,” I say, deflecting as I become aware of the fact that we’re arguing about a break-in that we’re currently committing. We don’t have much time before the specialist gets back, I’m sure. Somebody like that can’t have anywhere that important to be.
Sergei scoffs as we head out. The thought of having to stay with him through the night makes me want to pull my own eyes out.
My apartment should be ready for me to move into it by now, so I’ll tolerate him for the drive back into the city, but no longer. Not until he gets his head straight. He needs a firm wake-up call, and unfortunately, I might have to be the one to give it to him.
