Dash felt a little sick. “And… are you?”
Dmitri shrugged. “I’m either the baby-killer or the baby-defender, depending on who I sell my munitions to. When I’m selling to my personal customers, I tend to be a baby-defender.” His voice took on a darker tone. “But when I’m doing deals on behalf of the Premier, it’s not so good.” With a note of barely-controlled rage, he growled, “When I’m working for the Premier, I’m pretty much a murderer.”
Dash stared at him making such a candid admission. “Why don’t you stop? It looks like you have enough money to do whatever you want.”
Dmitri laughed. “It’s not that simple. But there’s good news; it won’t be complicated for much longer. The Premier’s not a young man.” The knuckles on his hand turned white as he clenched his glass. “I can outlive him.”
