“I’m not leaving a message with a f*****g secretary,” Sergey spits. His eyes are glowing with rage. All the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. “I understand why Rodion confessed to you.”
“Confessed what?” I ask, even though I don’t want to engage Sergey in any kind of conversation right now.
He taps his forearm. “I hear you know his role in the family business. Or maybe Timofey told you. If he’s letting you walk around his house un-f*****g-supervised, then what the f**k do I know?”
Timofey must have told Sergey that Rodion showed me all the tattoos he had representing the people he’s killed. Is that why he’s so upset?
“You’re looking for Timofey?” I ask. “Not Rodion?”
His top lip curls. “I said ‘my son,’ didn’t I? You don’t think I know my own goddamn son?”
I’m not sure
