23. Laszlo
Someone had to die tonight.
It was going to be someone who deserved it, and I had the perfect replacement. Well, not perfect. I wished it could be Jimmy, but he was M.I.A. since I got my hands on his money.
I ended the call with Lyn. My trench coat was littered with pockets, filled with miscellaneous tech, including the latex prosthetic gloves I kept on me just in case. They were fitted with fake fingerprints, matched to my skin tone and even had my tattoos inked on them.
My fingerprints wouldn’t be on the gun at all.
I rejoined the men in the car, my leather gloves over the latex.
“And how is your little girlfriend?” Bodrov said in a mocking tone.
The SUV idled along a different stretch of the abandoned industrial park.
“It’s all good,” I said, looking down at the gun in my gloved hand.
“You know, being whipped might not be good for you. A man has to be in charge of his women, not let them boss him.”
These pigs could never keep their bullshit straight. I wanted to snap at that greasy fucker, and demand which is it: was I gay, or was I too smitten with my girl?
My girl.
Tonight was supposed to be spent with her. Instead, it was an opportunity I had to seize.
“She asked me to call, and I want to make her happy. A man has to keep his woman happy, no?” I challenged Bodrov with a raised brow, pleased with how even my voice was.
He mulled it over with a growing lascivious grin.
“I’m sure with all you’re packing in those pants she is quite happy.” Bodrov elbowed Urvan’s side, but a withering scowl turned him sombre.
I forced a stilted laugh at his crude remark.
He was speeding up his own demise.
I’d celebrate my promotion by wiping that smarm off his face.
“Would’ve been a lot easier if you’d done that hobo in. Other bosses might think your pickiness makes you weak, but I like to see the passion in you,” Bodrov remarked.
“He’s a thoughtful man. Willing to take out someone we need gone. How did you learn Gorky was skimming?” asked the once silent man in his icy voice.
“Credit cards piled up in debt, then gone. New car, paid in full.”
Urvan listened, hearing what I wasn’t saying. These obvious things were missed by Bodrov. He wasn’t paying attention to those in his circle.
Bodrov’s face was red with humiliation, slinking further into the shadows of the SUV.
“And he tried to use crypto to hide his tracks. Same sort of thing we’re doing but he’s using it against us. We can’t let anyone use our own weapons against us, can we? What kind of message would that send?”
Urvan returned the polite bow of my head. There seemed to be an understanding between us that I didn’t belong in this brigade, and it looked like he hoped that I would give him what he needed to tell the Obshchaka that.
I couldn’t fuck this up.
“He’s here, boss,” said Rurik.
Gorky was desperate for an in with the Bratva. It was easy to lure him out. His new car pulled into the vacant lot near us.
Bodrov reached over me and opened the door, as if I needed help. Frankly, he liked to be in contact with me too much.
He acted like his homophobic bullshit was a cover for his own desires. The machismo rotted him on the inside, the self-hatred turning him volatile and cruel. How many poor gay or trans kids had he bullied in school, afraid to admit his own truth?
I could almost pity him, but he didn’t deserve it.
I checked Bodrov’s gun, ensured the silencer was in place.
“Ah, your gloves,” Urvan said.
I removed the leather gloves, tossing them in the backseat of the car and took the gun with my ‘bare’ hands. The inside pocket fit the weapon well, as if it were a sign that this moment was right.
The other men watched from behind tinted glass as rain fell in sheets. My dark hair dripped down my collar, the chilly night not enough to ease the burning inferno in my veins.
Gorky’s eyes widened then narrowed at me. He flinched, stepping back, pressing his ass into his car as he raised his hands. His gaudy shirt was sweat stained, and I could smell a greasy body odour from several paces away.
“Hey, I was told Bodrov had something for me. He sent you to handle it?”
“Yes. Did you tell anyone you came here?”
“Of course not! I’m no loud mouth,” he scoffed.
His nose had healed somewhat, but it was off centre. I stared at it, swallowing every ounce of anger. It would be easier if he thought we were being friendly.
He was desperate for scraps, and he was eager to feed gossip around the club if he thought it would get him somewhere. My silence put him on edge, and of course the first thing he did was prove how much he loved talking.
“You know that Roxy chick? Redhead, big tits, great ass? Well, listen, she stole some six figures from her man before they split, and I convinced the dumb bitch to give it to me, but she sent it in crypto. You’re the moneyman, right?”
Sweat shined in the sallow light of the flickering, naked bulb at the edge of the lot. He wiped some rain with the edge of his tacky shirt. He was nervous, hence his attempts to fast-talk me.
He was trying to buy himself time enough to figure out what was wrong.
“I am. You want me to clean it?”
“Yea, yea,” he said, wiggling his cellphone. “It’s all in here, but I want it in bills.”
“I can do that, no problem. Here. Take my card.” I reached into my coat. The pistol in my hand was leaden. He was within arms reach of me. I barely had to aim.
“Oh, and a little something extra from my girl.”
When I killed Gorky, I wasn’t thinking about my stars.
I did it for Lyn.
So there would be one less man in the world she’d have to be afraid of.
With the silencer it was anticlimactic. Gorky’s shit-eating grin hadn’t time to fade before I pulled the trigger. Even in the rain, one red flower blossomed on his shirt, then another. He toppled backwards, and the cracked asphalt rippled beneath him as he hit it with a meaty thud.
I grabbed his phone and unlocked it with his face. I changed the passcode so I could get into it later and pocketed it.
Blood pooled beneath him, fanning out, before being washed away with the heavy rain.
It wasn’t the time for half measures.
I pressed the silencer to side of his skull, and brain matter squirted from the hole in the other side. Two more into his throat. The final shots obliterated his face.
Urvan smiled as the door opened, and he bagged the gun with ‘my’ prints on it.
There was no sign he noticed my literal sleight-of-hand, and I discretely removed the prosthetic gloves before sliding into the car, accepted into the brotherhood.