8. Bratva #2 #2
Despite the mayhem of the last few hours, Gabriel needed information on Barbianna Bogdanova. She’d killed a man three times her size with nothing but her hands, yet it was the first time she’d taken a life.
Who is this woman, for real?
Rather than push her for answers—which was his usual MO—he’d go easy. If she was telling him the truth, and this was the first time she’d killed anyone, she had to be spinning out pretty good.
“How are you doing?” he asked as he hopped on I-395 south toward Springfield.
“Kind of numb,” she said in her Russian accent. “I’ve been trained, but training and real-life are two different things.”
“Trained in hand-to-hand combat?”
“Yes.”
“Firearms?”
“Yes, but I don’t keep up with target practice.”
“From what I could tell, you don’t need it. You’re a lethal weapon in your own right. I’m in awe.”
“I knew the minute you stepped out of the bathroom you were a dead man.”
“I’ve never had anyone save my life,” he said. “I’m in debt to you, Barbi.”
“Yes, you are.”
They drove in silence to the crematorium. At the gate, Gabriel eyed the outdated speaker, doubting it even worked.
He pushed the button.
“Been expecting you.”
The gates opened, he drove in, backed up to the building. As they were getting out, the front door opened. A slender, hippy-looking man moseyed over rolling an extra-large gurney.
“Heard you caught a big one, huh?”
Gabriel opened the hatch.
“Musta been a bleeder,” CJ said.
“No blood.”
“Poison?”
“No.”
“I give up,” CJ said. “How’d he croak?”
“Heart attack,” Gabriel replied.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Barbi take a calming breath. He had her back… that was the least he could do.
They slid the tarp onto the oversized stretcher and into the building. While Barbi closed the door, CJ rolled the body into another room, then got busy removing the ropes. After he exposed the corpse, he said, “Check his pockets.”
“Already did.”
“Check ‘em again,” CJ insisted.
Gabriel confirmed, all pockets were empty.
Dressed in a heat-retardant jumpsuit, CJ donned a mask. “Gonna get hot. Better step against the back wall.”
He and Barbi did as instructed.
CJ lined the stretcher up to the opening, then pressed a button. The body moved toward the inferno.
“This is bad,” Barbi murmured as the Bratva disappeared into hell’s fire.
CJ shut and locked the door. He pulled off his mask, walked over to the computer and set a timer. “This one’s gonna take a while. He’s a big boy.”
“How long?” Gabriel asked.
“It’s been years since I’ve had someone that large,” CJ said, “but I’ll estimate six hours.”
Gabriel pulled out a wad of cash, counted it fast, and handed all but twenty to CJ. “Three-hundred.”
“Much obliged. You can wait in the outer room.” He glanced at Barbi who was fixated on the inferno. “Can’t stay in here, ‘cause it gets too hot. I’ll be in my office.” He pointed to a closed door.
It was quarter to six in the morning.
“We should wait for a while,” she said.
“You from Poland, maybe Bulgaria?” CJ asked.
“Yes,” Barbi replied.
CJ smirked “Alrighty. Make yourselves at home. Knock if you need anything. I got cold waters. You two look like you could use ‘em.”
“Please,” Barbi said.
CJ vanished into his office, returning with two unopened bottles. “Bathroom’s right through there.” Then he pointed to the corners of the ceiling. “I got cameras, so leave whenever.”
As Barbi lowered her head, she shook it slowly.
She’s not okay. Help her out.
Gabriel took the water, thanked CJ. After CJ moseyed into his office and shut the door, Gabriel handed her a bottle. She opened it, guzzled half.
“I’ve got to get home to change—” she said.
“You sure? You’d make quite an impression if you showed up for work in that.”
Her lips twitched as if she wanted to smile, but none came. “My boss is expected today. I don’t want to leave yet, but I can’t be late.”
“Can you let someone know you won’t be in ‘til later?”
She shook her head.
After downing the bottle, she said, “I’ll figure something out.”
They retreated into the outer waiting room. She said very little, mostly paced back and forth. Kept checking her watch. She’d become more jittery than during the ambush or its aftermath.
After they’d been there an hour, she said, “I can’t stay, but I don’t trust CJ. He has our faces on video. He could stop the cremation—”
“And do what with the badly burned body?” Gabriel asked.
“Blackmail us,” she blurted.
“How ‘bout this? I’ll run you home, return here and wait. Give me your number—”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Right, sorry.” After a beat, she said, “I don’t know my number. The phone is new. You can send a message through Evangeline Develin.”
She was becoming more and more complicated by the second. He acknowledged her with a simple nod, said nothing more.
En route back to DC, she said, “You don’t need to go back to the crematorium. I’ll drop you at home, but you shouldn’t stay there. It’s not safe.”
Never one to be fearful, she had a point.
“I’ll grab a few things, camp out with one of my brothers.”
Back in DC, she parked in front of his home, cut the engine. “I’ll go in, make sure you’re safe.”
He flashed her a smile. “Get to work. I got this.” He collected her hand, kissed it softly. “Thank you for tonight.”
“Which part?”
“All the parts.” With a wink, he exited and shut the SUV door.
As he made his way toward the front door, he pulled his pistol from its holster.
This is war and I’m at the center of it.
HALSTON
Gabriel jogged up the front steps. She waited as he unholstered his weapon and disappeared inside his home. A shudder slid down her spine.
He’s fearless.
She pulled down the visor, glanced at herself in the mirror. Her wig was askew. She straightened it out, pulled into the early morning rush hour traffic.
Get it together or you’re really gonna mess things up.