Red Reaper - Soldiers of Fortune [book one]

Chapter FOUR

Lucky O'Cléirigh

"I can't explain it, Konstantin, but--" I squint at him in the soft moonlight of the terrace, searching for the right words to express myself without sounding like a fool.. "When we talk, It's like you understand me, it's almost like I've known you forever.. I don't know how you make me feel this way.."

He shrugs unknowingly.. "Perhapz it iz becauze I know myself.. It iz vury eazy to show to you."

"There's no mystique? This is just who you are?" I take a step towards him and he takes a retreating step away, returning to his place by the railing as if silently implying he'd rather not be too close to me.. Lifting his glass of Vodka to his lips he finishes it in one mouthful and sets the cup back down..

Even if his words are sweet, his actions speak so much louder.. It kind of stings..

"Da.."

Too deflated to push my luck, I retreat back to my own spot by the rail in the corner of the terrace.. "All the time?"

One of his hands slides down to slip into his pocket while the other twiddles his cigarette.. "I am alwayz who I am.."

I giggle nervously, trying to slice through the strangled new tension he has created between us.. "Huh.. Imagine if you weren't!"

He frowns across at me in confusion.. "Thiz iz not possible."

I trip over my own joke, the miscommunication apparent.. "No.. I was joking-- I was saying like-- if you weren't always yourself that'd be crazy because then you'd have multiple personalities-- Like a psycho--"

Shut up, Lucky!

I kick myself for my blabbing mouth..

What the hell am I even talking about?!

The Russian doesn't laugh, instead he nods thoughtfully. "Ah.. I see.." He is warm and cold all at once.. Gentle and harsh.. Kindly abrasive when he speaks again I am sure we aren't understanding each other anymore.. "Perhapz thiz iz true.."

The sudden shifting in him is eerie and dark and I am quickly forced to backtrack to retract the offence I'd made against him.. "I don't mean it like that--"

He sighs and flicks away the burnt down butt of his cigarette, watching as it drifts down to the empty street below.. "Byt' ne v svoyey tarelke.. I do not belong in thiz place, Malishka.. Not here with you, or down there with 'ze Americanetsy mudaks.."

He waves a gesturing hand across the skyline..

"W-what does that mean?" I grip the bannister as my breath gets short.. I hadn't meant to upset him and I hate that I have..

"It haz been so long since I have seen my home.. I feel sometimez az if I am maybe --like you say-- 'crazy'.." He takes the cigarette packet from his pocket again and repeats the motions, tapping one out to hold between his lips before offering the box to me..