Fearless 2_a Sports Romance by Amarie Avant

Author:Amarie Avant [Avant, Amarie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jessica Watkins Presents
Published: 2018-01-23T18:30:00+00:00

Vassili

On Monday morning, Natasha and I take a trip to my uncle Malich’s home. She’s in the playroom with his son, Igor’s younger children, while I sit with my two cousins in the kitchen. Every time Yuri passes the bottle, I smack the back of Igor’s head.

“Kazen, you cannot have any,” I warn him through gritted teeth. “Let your pops go a day without taking care of your grown ass!”

“Just a little taste,” Igor says. He’s a diabetic, and with Malich as a father, who loves to cook and was once a doctor in our hometown, Igor has this warped, untrained mindset. Malich enables him, and then saves his fat ass.

“Ask again, and I’m going to punch you into that wall,” I grit out.

“Nyet, brat, you don’t need any of this,” Yuri says, pouring himself another shot.

My wrath lands on him, dark gaze, and lit with anger. “This is your big brother, Yuri. Don’t wait until I correct his ass to step the fuck up. Okay?”

“Man, he’ll do what he wants in spite of what we say, Vassili. You can beat him to a bloody pulp—”

“Hey,” Igor cuts in. “I don’t need any of you piz’das speaking for me.”

“Who you calling a cunt!” I bark.

With a softer voice, Igor asks, “Are we playing cards or what?”

“Nobody said we were playing cards, man.” Yuri huffs. “Isn’t it your time to head down to the pier? It’s Monday, Igor. How am I more aware of your schedule than you are?”

Malich sets plates in front of us. “He’s not going to San Pedro. No one is.”

“Dad, what do you mean…” Yuri unclasps the top button of his suit. “Every third Monday, Igor goes, if he’s sick then I go.”

Malich slams a hand onto the table. “We’re out, Yuri. You haven’t had to assist with a shipment in months, and guess what, Igor still makes himself sick. Shit, son, you were out a long time ago. Managing our champ here,” Malich says, patting my shoulder, “is job enough.”

“Did you tell Anatoly?” Yuri asks.

“We stopped receiving his shipments last month. Albeit, there’s no telling him. My big brat—brother—thinks that he can bully us into it. Anatoly is wrong. Our lack of response should’ve gotten through that thick skull of his by now.”

“Nobody told me shit.” Yuri pushes his food away. “I have things to do. I could use the extra funds. What about the art dealings? I’ve handled those requests every quarter?”

Our family has an artist. One of my half-sister’s can freehand the Mona Lisa with her eyes closed. It seems my father is capable of investing time in his children when they have a select skill that benefit him. We have a connection at Smithsonian, and receive an inventory of new shipments to the West Coast Museum. With Yuri’s assistance, my sister replaces the originals with her own knockoffs, and he places them on the black market.

Yuri huffs again. “I need money.”

Malich puts his fork down. “What’s wrong, son? I cannot see the two of you going broke anytime soon.

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