Distrust (Smirnov Bratva Book 1) by T.l Smith

pussy, you know, two holes and one goal and all that. Then just as she’s about to come, I want to load that gun, then…”
    Freya starts waving her arms around. “Stop! If you’re about to say what I think you are, you are one sick fuck.” She snatches the bottle back from Anton and takes another chug.
    “I wasn’t, I was just saying…” he pulls his gun from the front of his jeans, “…this is my baby. She goes with me everywhere. Why not the cunt as well. You know?”
    “Sick… fuck…” she spits.
    Anton starts laughing because that’s a compliment to him, where she thinks she’s just insulted him.
    “So you’re going to be the boss’s wife soon. How do you feel about that? You do know he likes to tie his women up and keep them in the basement,” Anton continues to tease her.
    “Well Anton, if I’m his wife, I won’t be his woman now, will I? And if he even thinks of tying me in the basement, I’ll castrate him when he sleeps.”
    Viktor laughs, he actually laughs. Anton and I look to him, eyes wide, mouths open, shock written all over our faces. We haven’t heard him laugh since we were teenagers, that was when he started dating his bitch of a cheating girlfriend. Never once since. “Why are you all staring like he grew a third head?” Viktor stops and stares at Freya, it’s then that I see it. He likes her, a lot . More than he’s letting on. His face isn’t hard when he looks at her, it’s full of sympathy.
    “Viktor is stone. Viktor doesn’t laugh,” Anton says pushing the bottle of vodka along the bench. I look back to Freya, wondering how I can marry her, how I could even love her. I don’t know, I know more about her than I know about Elina, but she doesn’t make my belly burn or make my toes tingle. I see her more along the lines of a sister that one day I may have to kill.
    I go to tell her, tell her we can’t do this when my phone rings. When I look at the caller ID, I don’t know who it is—it’s a private number.
    Freya snatches it from my hand and smiles when she answers it. “Future wife of Kazier Smirnov,” she says cheerfully. I don’t know if I should be pissed. A part of me is, a part of me finds her amusing as all hell. Her face drastically changes, then she drops the phone slightly from her ear and looks to me, then looks back at the phone, ending the call. We all stare at her, she’s now angry, her face scrunches up. She throws the phone on the bench, looking at it like it’s grown a third head. Then it starts to ring again.
    “Don’t answer it,” she says, her voice has lost all its humor and she’s now pissed.
    “Who was it?” I ask because I have no idea with it being a private number.
    Her nose scrunches up. “Your whore,” she spits. As soon as she says it, my brain flicks and I know I’m reaching for the phone and putting it to my ear before I register what I’ve done.
    “Elina,” I say.
    She never calls me, ever.
    I didn’t even know she had my phone number.
    “Tell me that was your answering machine, Kazier.” She breathes heavy into the phone. “And that your future wife didn’t just hang up on me, because that would lead to me being very angry.”
    I look to Freya and see the hurt in her eyes. She asked me to stop, yet here I am, giving in to my every will just to listen to her speak over the phone.
    “It’s over, Elina,” I say while watching Freya. A little hurt lifts, her forehead loses some of the lines she was holding. Elina laughs, and it’s not her usual laugh she shares with only me. I alone know her true laugh. I don’t think she’d laugh the way she does with anyone else. She holds it for me, but this laugh is staged and extravagant.
    “It’s never over, Kazier. You are mine, just as much as I am yours,” she says ending the call. I stare at the phone before I can look up, wondering how she got this number. No one has this number apart from my inner circle, this is not my business phone. I grab the bottle of