"Sitnikov."
Vlad looked up from his place at the table where he had been sitting for the past twenty minutes. He didn't like waiting. It was an insult. Insults made Boris twitchy. Vlad was sincerely hoping he wouldn't have to kill the younger man, sent to check out the Bratva's American interests. It could cause problems back in Russia.
He watched the blond soldier's approach with barely concealed impatience, annoyed that this was the person who would be reporting on him. He lit a cigar and let the fragrant smoke linger in his mouth. The act relaxed him somewhat and created a fine haze across the table. The homeland bosses knew better than to annoy Sitnikov. Or they used to, before they decided to send children into his organization.
"You're late."
The quietly spoken words were said w
