“Two vodka. Neat.”
The bartender nodded, and turned to ready the drinks, abandoning the one he was already prepping for someone waiting at the bar. Ruslan spun around to face the crowd and Kaz followed the action.
“So, Vasily was his usual self, yes?” Ruslan asked.
Kaz forced his scowl away. “Same old.”
“The twins’ birthday is in a couple weeks.”
Shit.
Kaz had forgotten about that. Their fifteen-year-old sisters would be soon turning sixteen. Vasily and Irina, their mother, had probably planned something for the girls. Vera, their other sister who was one year older than Kaz, would come in from the city for it.
But Ruslan …
Blyad.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ruslan said.
“I’ll talk to him—he shouldn’t exclude you with the family.”
“It’s easier.”
“But you want to go, no?” Kaz asked. “See the twins, and Vera? Irina, too.”
Ruslan frowned. “It’s been a while for all of them.”
Kaz was aware of just how long it had been since Ruslan had been allowed to any family event. Vasily kept up appearances well enough, for show and nothing else, but he made every effort to keep Ruslan away.
He hated that for his brother.
“I’ll talk to him,” Kaz said again, offering nothing more.
The brothers turned at the sound of glasses clinking down on the bartop.
Kaz picked up his drink and tilted it toward his brother. “Za zdorov'e, brat.”
Ruslan returned the sentiment before tipped his own glass back and emptying it in one go. Kaz took his a little bit slower, wanting to enjoy the taste of good vodka.
His brother clapped him on the shoulder after he’d discarded his empty glass to the bar. “Stay and drink. Watch the people. You never go out unless it’s for the bratva. I’ll be around.”
Kaz thought about it, and decided maybe he would stay. He’d only promised to come and see the club in live action, given how much work his brother put into it, but he did like the place.
“Find me after you’re done vetting people at the door,” Kaz said.
Ruslan laughed. “Unless you’ve already found some krasivaya kiska to take home.”
Well, Kaz chose not to respond to that.
But he did grin.
Before long, Kaz was milling through the throng of people, his gaze sweeping the floor for anyone he might recognize or for some problem that might show up all of the sudden. It wouldn’t be a surprise if some fool thought they could try something. He was sure that Ruslan had a dozen different plans at the ready, in case an issue came up, but the habit was hard to break.
Kaz didn't know how to break his habits.
He stayed to the far walls and corners as he strolled around the joint. His front to the people, his back to the wall—always. Cowards had a way about them. They preferred to hit a person from behind. So even if the club was lively with no threat in sight, Kaz couldn’t help his instincts.
Back to the wall.
Front to room.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a flash of blonde that drew in his attention. Just as quickly as he saw the woman, she was gone, swallowed into the dancing, swaying bodies.
Still, he looked again.
Sonder was hot.
And not just a great club that was filled with patrons. No, hot.
Violet could barely breathe when the music turned up, and the people started moving faster around her. She had already tossed back a few drinks and danced with her friends until her feet hurt in her heels. She still wasn’t ready to leave. She shrugged off the leather bomber jacket she wore overtop of her cherry-red, bodycon dress. At the same time, she leaned forward and took a sip of the green-colored drink Nicole offered. The sour sharpness of the liquid burned the whole way down, but she barely even noticed.
“Good, right?” Nicole asked.
“So good.”
Violet looked around, trying to find where Amelia had disappeared to in the swarm of drunk, sweaty bodies. She quickly found her, right in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by other people with drinks held high and grinding together.
“I think she forgot about Franco,” Violet mused.
Nicole snorted. “I guess so. Not like that’s a loss. Want another drink?”
Violet knew she should refuse the offer. As it were, she felt light on her feet and a little hazy in the head. But she hadn’t risked her father’s wrath and traveled all the way from Manhattan to Coney Island for nothing. She planned on having a damn good time, partying it up to celebrate her twenty-first birthday, and nothing more.
“Yeah, get me another,” Violet said.
Nicole spun on her heel and made a beeline for the bar again. Violet cut through the people toward where Amelia was still dancing in a group of strangers. The beat of the music pumping through the venue pulsated from the floorboards and into the soles of her heels.