Chapter Ten
Cameron
“WHAT DOES ‘OUR’ mean?” Tess asked.
“As in, he’s a company asset,” I replied.
“We got him three years ago. Caught red-handed brokering a precious gems deal between a Saudi prince and one of our undercover officers. We gave Krist the choice between spending the rest of his days sleeping on a bare concrete floor in a black site prison or he could be our little rat and enjoy a teeny-tiny piece of cheese now and again. He’s been cooperating ever since.
As far as the criminal underworld is concerned, Mr. B is open for business, and business is good, but behind the scenes we’re working him like a puppet, using him to gain intel on dozens of heavy-duty players in the black-market trades. ”
Tess raised an eyebrow. “And you think he can help us somehow?”
“Having Mr. B as a partner was the only carrot big enough that I could think of to dangle in front of Sasha’s face that might keep him from killing us.
If we can pull this off, not only do we get to keep breathing, but we may gain further trust with Sasha.
The only thing these guys truly care about is amassing wealth. Well, that and showing it off.”
Tess let out a quiet sigh. “So how do we contact this Mr. B?”
“That’s a fair question.”
“Noah,” she bit out in irritation.
“To be honest, I was kind of hoping you’d be able to help in that department.”
“How the hell can I help you contact a Belgian man I’ve never heard of until an hour ago?” Tess hiss-pered.
“He’s not Belgian. Krist Darwood is from Cleveland,” I replied.
“How the hell does Krist Darwood from Cleveland come to be called the Man from Brussels?”
“That’s actually a funny story. It all goes back to—”
It was then that I noticed the three kids who’d been playing basketball had concluded their game and were walking down the sidewalk towards us. There was nothing inherently menacing about them. Their clothes, their movement, all normal, and yet a caution light flashed inside my brain.
“Look sharp,” I said to Tess, whose back was turned to the incoming trio. “Some kids are coming our way.”
The tallest of the three wore a black hoodie and looked to be in his early twenties.
The other two couldn’t have been older than eighteen.
The second tallest was wearing jeans and what looked like an authentic vintage RatHound T-shirt.
The smallest of the trio was at least a foot shorter than black hoodie guy and was carrying a well-used basketball.
Tess and I moved aside, leaving plenty of room for the three to pass, but that didn’t stop black hoodie guy from muttering “Ubiraysya s dorogi, suka!” (Out of my way, bitch), before checking my shoulder as he walked by.
I failed to flinch in the slightest, causing him to slam into my shoulder a little harder than he’d planned, making him to lose his footing and step into the gutter.
“Ty namochil moi tufli, ublyudok! (You got my shoes wet, you piece of shit!) the kid yelled.
“Vam sleduyet byt' vnimatel'neye i smotret', kuda vy idote..” (You should pay closer attention to where you’re walking.)
Black hoodie guy steadied himself before puffing out his chest. “What the fuck did you say to me, Pindo?” Clearly sussing out that I was an American.
Not wanting to draw attention, I did my best to deescalate the situation.
“No problem. Just making sure you’re okay,” I said with a friendly wave. “Have a nice night.”
“Maybe I’ll have a nice night with your girlfriend, huh? Maybe we all will,” he said, motioning to his friends to the right and left of him.
I fought back the urge to put my fist through his skull right then and there, opting instead at one last crack at diplomacy.
“How about we all move on,” I said.
Black hoodie guy pulled a switchblade from his pocket, pushing the button to release the spring-loaded blade. “How about you give me your wallet, mother fucker.”
With the kid’s thick Russian accent, it came out more like “mahder fahkar,” causing me to chuckle.
“Keep laughing, Pindo, and I’ll kill both of you,” he threatened, waving his knife back and forth.
“So, what’s the move here, huh?” I challenged, casually unbuckling my belt. “What are you going to do with that thing? Stick me? Slice me? Do you even know how to use that knife?”
“You’re gonna find out. Plus, there are three of us, and only one of you,” he said.
“I know, I don’t like your odds either,” I replied, dropping my smile. “Now put that blade away before you cut yourself and move on.”
“Typical fucking American cowboy man, huh?” he said, stepping forward. “So tough, even without your six shooter. Isn’t this where you tell me how stupid I was to bring a knife to a gunfight?”
I shook my head, removing my belt. “No, this is where I tell you how stupid you were to bring a knife to a belt fight.”
* * *
Tess
“Give me your wallet or I swear I’ll—”
Before black hoodie could finish his threat, Wallace whipped his belt, buckle first, at the kid, connecting with his hand, causing him to drop the knife instantly.
Both the second tallest kid and I scrambled to pick it up, with me beating him by mere milliseconds.
“You stay right there,” I instructed, pointing the knife at him.
I then saw Wallace wrap his leather belt around his knuckles before delivering an absolute haymaker to the jaw of punk number one, whose feet actually left the ground before his limp body dropped the ground like a sack of wet mice.
Wallace quickly turned around to face the other two hooligans. “Am I gonna get trouble from either of you?” he growled.
Both kids shook their heads violently, in unison, back and forth.
“What’s his name?” Wallace asked, pointing at the lump lying face down on the pavement.
“Boris. He’s our big brother.”
“And what about you?”
“I’m Lev and he’s Pavel,” he said, pointing to the youngest brother.
“So… what?” Wallace asked. “Are you two trying to be tough guys like your brother? You think it’s okay to pull knives on people and steal from them?”
Lev shook his head. “We just come to the park to play basketball. Our mom works late so this is the only time we can play here.”
“Where’s your father?”
“Prison,” Lev said.
“What about Boris? You think he’s cool?”
“Boris is an idiot but he’s our older brother. We have to do what he says, or he’ll kick our asses and make us do all his chores,” Lev said.
“Is that true?” Wallace asked the youngest boy.
He nodded. “He pretty much makes us do his chores anyway.”
“You know, I have three older brothers,” Wallace said. “So, I think I get a little bit of what you guys are going through. Let me have a little chat with your big bro here.”
Wallace squatted down next to Boris, who was just starting to regain consciousness.
“Good morning, princess,” he said before grabbing Boris by his hair and pulling him to a seated position.
Blood poured from the swollen left side of his mouth.
“I’m glad you’re awake cause I’m gonna need you to do a couple of things for me,” Wallace continued.
“First of all, you need to apologize to the lady for the nasty remarks you made earlier.”
“Fucshhh yewww,” Boris slurred.
“Nope, that’s not it.” Wallace said, before grabbing Boris’ nose, squeezing it almost to point of breaking it, just as we were trained to do.
Boris screamed in muted agony as Wallace maintained control over his subject. “Apologize to the lady.”
Boris relented. “I’m shorry hlady… show shorreee.”
“Now to your brothers,” Wallace said. “Tell them you’re sorry for being a shit brother and promise you won’t make them to your chores anymore.”
“I promishhh.”
“Swear to them.”
“I shwear, I fushing shwear.”
“Most of all, you’re gonna stop pulling knives of people and taking shit that doesn’t belong to you. You understand? Or do I have to knock some more sense into you?”
Borris nodded.
Wallace pulled Boris up to his feet and motioned for his brothers to assist him.
“You two keep him steady, one on each side, and make sure he gets back home safe. And get him cleaned up before your mother sees him like this. I’m sure she’s got enough to worry about.”
“We’re gonna come back to this park, and if we find you three doing anything other than playing basketball or reading the Bible, you’ll all get a beating from me,” I said.
“She’s way meaner than I am,” Wallace said, before addressing Lev. “And be careful not to get blood on that RatHound shirt. It’s a valuable vintage piece of clothing.
Lev immediately took off the shirt, before walking over to Officer Wallace and handing it to him. “Our father was at this show when he was around my age. He said it was right after the fall of the Berlin wall, and the first time him and his friends were allowed to see a rock band play live.”
“I can’t take this from you,” Wallace said, clearly moved by the young man’s gesture.
“You did what my father would have done if he caught Boris doing what he did. I know he’d want you to have it.”
“Lev means lion in Russian, doesn’t it?” Wallace asked.
Lev nodded.
“Alright, Lev the lion-hearted. Get you and your brothers home safely and stay out of trouble.”
The one-two punch of Wallace handling himself while protecting me, and serving as a caseworker for Russia’s misguided youth was all too much for my lady bits. I needed to get him down the block and upstairs to my apartment as quickly as humanly possible.
* * *
The second we entered my apartment, I shoved him up against the wall and kissed him as I tugged on the waistband of his pants.
“Whoa there, tiger,” he said. “What’s happening here?”
“Sex. Sex is happening here,” I panted out, running my nose against his pulse. God, he smelled great.
He slid his hand to my neck and lifted my chin. “You wanna fuck, T—?”
I covered his mouth before he could say my real name, then tapped my ear. I had no idea if anyone was listening. If they were, they were about to get an earful and I didn’t care about any of it, as long as they didn’t discover our true identities.
He frowned. “Seriously?”
I nodded.