Chapter 5
Alexei
Fuck.
I watch the little waitress grow ashen as realization sinks in. If not for the curvy, freckled, green-eyed hurricane interrupting us, Benny might’ve talked and lived to see another day.
Instead, I’m pissed and left without leads and with a witness.
Double fuck.
Abysmal timing.
She scrambles to her feet, clutching Benny’s gun like a lifeline. “Stay back!”
Amusement ripples through my anger. This woman’s got balls. Even with blown pupils and trembling arms.
“Know how to use that?” I stalk forward, my own weapon still raised, because I don’t have a death wish. “Be a shame if you shot yourself in the foot.”
Her features twist, and she lifts her chin. “Don’t patronize me! If I’d had the slightest clue you were—”
I don’t give her time to finish. Skirting the scattered trash, I reach her in three long strides, grab the gun, and wrench it free. She cries out as her wrist bends at an unnatural angle and drops the gun like it’s on fire.
She doesn’t give up without a fight.
Kicking out, she nails me in the shin. I pocket Benny’s gun and holster mine just as her elbow drives up. When I deflect the move, she grazes my jaw. Her shrieks could wake the dead. Luckily, with the music blaring inside the bar, the chances of anyone hearing her are slim to none.
“Enough.” I wrap my arms around her and walk her backward, pinning her against the brick wall. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Let me go!” She eyes my arm, the wild expression on her face giving me the impression that she’s about to bite me.
Not this time.
Clamping a hand around her throat and applying a little pressure, as I did with Benny, I send a clear message. If I wanted to, I could kill you in seconds.
Panic flickers in those captivating eyes.
I capture her wrists with my free hand and trap them over her head. “Stop. Fighting.”
She thrashes harder, aiming her knee for my groin. “You just killed Benny!”
Shifting, I lift my leg to block her before flattening her against me. My cock stirs as I remember her sweet little body and the feel of her gasping lips on mine.
None of that. She’s a fucking witness now. Question her, then figure out what to do.
After all these years, why does the Kozlov protocol for witnesses burn like acid in my stomach? “He would’ve killed you.”
Her chest heaves. “Who the hell are you? And what do you want from me?”
“Someone you’d have been wise to walk away from.
” I scan her face, noting the freckles dusting her nose, her bow-shaped lips, and what I think is a small butterfly tattoo behind her left ear.
“If you’d asked me what I wanted an hour ago, my answer would have been very different.
” I remove my hand from her throat to run my thumb across her plump bottom lip. “But now? I want answers.”
For a split second, her gaze flicks to my mouth and desire clouds her eyes.
“Answers?” She has the audacity to scoff. “I’m just a cocktail waitress. Whatever answers you’re looking for, I don’t have them.”
“I beg to differ.” I skim my knuckles down the side of her throat. “You knew Benny.”
Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, she shakes her head, giving me a better view of the blue butterfly tattoo. “Oh, is that his name? Never saw the guy in my life…until I came out here and saw you murder him.”
I sigh. “Nice try, lyubimaya, but you said his name when he demanded the key from you.” I release her wrists and instead cage her with my arms on the wall. “You’re coming with me.”
Rookie mistake.
As soon as I drop her wrists, she fights like a wild animal, all teeth and elbows and desperate strength. Impressive.
And completely useless.
I pin her arms to her sides and lift her off her feet so I can carry her toward the mouth of the alley. Her sweaty, faintly fruity, fear-tinged scent assaults my nostrils. I need to get her out of here before an employee or customer ventures outside.
“Let me go!” Her scream rends the night air.
When I slap a hand over her mouth, her teeth sink into the meat of my palm.
Der’mo.
The pain is sharp but not unexpected. I tighten my grip, squeezing her jaw with my bitten hand to force her mouth open. Her terrified eyes latch on mine, pissed but pleading. A muffled protest slips out.
“Bite me again, and you won’t like what happens.”
Her body goes rigid against mine, but the fight remains, vibrating beneath her skin like a barely contained storm.
I haul her to my Lexus parked a few spaces from the alley entrance.
Still covering her mouth, I fumble in my pocket for the keys and press the button.
The headlights flash once, and the locks disengage.
She takes advantage of my divided attention by twisting in my grip. Her knee shoots up, aiming for my groin again.
When I pivot, the blow lands on my thigh instead. Dull, throbbing pain blooms. She’s got good instincts.
“Enough.” I spin her around, pressing her face-first against the car.
With my body weight pinning her in place, I grab her wrists and yank them behind her. The back of her skull connects with my chin in her failed attempt at a headbutt. My teeth click together, an iron tang flooding my mouth.
This one’s trouble.
Ignoring the ache in my jaw, I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a zip tie. Never know when they’ll be handy. Her panicked breathing is ragged as I remove her heavy gloves and cinch the plastic around her wrists.
“Please.” The word is muffled against the car window. “Please…don’t do this.”
“If you keep talking and refusing to cooperate, I’m going to have to kill even more people.” I nod toward the bar. “Which one of your coworkers do you think will stick their head out first?”
She stops moving.
I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and fold it into a thick strip. When I shove the fabric against her lips, she thrashes again, trying to twist away.
I trail a finger over her cheek. “What did I say about cooperating?”
She stills, chest heaving.
Her eyes narrow, and I can almost hear her calculating her odds.
Pushing the cloth between her teeth, I ignore her gagging as I tie a tight knot at the back of her head. Her soft, fine hair tangles in my fingers. I try to ignore the niggling emotion coiling in my gut.
Tears gather at the corners of her frantic eyes. Bright green, flecked with gold and defiance. I can’t have her seeing where I take her. Can’t have her remembering the route.
I extract another piece of cloth from my pocket as a tear trickles down her cheek.
A muffled protest comes from behind the gag, but she’s running out of steam.
I wrap the cloth around her eyes, securing it at the back of her head. Her breath comes in short, terrified gasps through her nose. The blindfold darkens with more tears.
I open the rear door of the car and guide her head down so she doesn’t hit the frame.
Her body stiffens, but I overpower her and push her all the way onto the back seat, face down.
Her short frame fits lengthwise, though just barely.
Her bound hands strain against the zip tie, fingernails digging into her own palms.
I slam the door shut and press the button twice to engage the child safety locks. No way for her to open it from the inside, even if she somehow manages to liberate her hands.
She thrashes again like a cornered animal, kicking against the window, her muffled screams barely audible through the glass.
Opening the driver door, I slip into the seat, ensure no one’s walking around, and head home.
As I pull away from the bar, I make a brief phone call to one of the low-level guys I trust.
Lev answers on the first ring. “What can I do for you?”
“I have a situation at Red Bird’s.” I share the details, satisfied Lev will do a quick and thorough job of cleaning up my mess.
My pulse pounds in my ears as I hang up and glance at my captive in the rearview mirror.
The logical move is to drive somewhere isolated and make her disappear. Finish this.
But the thought of putting a bullet in her pretty head churns my stomach.
The warehouse looms ahead, a dark silhouette against the night sky. My sanctuary. My fortress. No one comes here except a handful of people from my inner circle, especially not murder witnesses.
Yet, here I am. With one trussed up in the back seat of my car.
I slide the key card through the reader, and the heavy steel gate to the underground garage rolls open with a mechanical hum.
No guards here. Just deliberate isolation.
Very few people require or receive access to my home.
I inch forward into the concrete maw, the gate closing behind us with finality.
As my eyes adjust to the lighting, I spot a familiar black sedan on the far side of the garage.
Three doors open, and three men step out.
I scrub a hand down my jaw.
Chyort vozmi. It’s going to be a long night.