15. Nikolai
NIKOLAI
I held my hand up and everyone stopped. Yakov crouched beside me at the mouth of the alley and Vlad was right behind him. Across the street I could see Gregg's team pressed against the building on the opposite side, waiting for my signal.
After months of feeling the pressure of Markin's men encroaching, I had finally made the decision to push in and take back what was rightfully mine.
All of us were there, armed and ready to sweep through, killing any Markin soldiers that stood in our way, and I wasn't here to offer mercy. All of my men knew that.
"How many?" I whispered.
"Two outside the bodega," Yakov said, leaning past me to get a look. "I can see a third through the window. Maybe more in the back." He held binoculars to his face, which was scrunched up in concentration.
I pressed my back into the brick behind me and breathed deeply to keep my pulse as slow as possible in spite of the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
"Vlad, what about the laundromat?"
"Two inside from what I could see earlier. And there's at least one posted at the pawn shop on the far end."
Six, maybe seven. We had twelve. Good odds if we hit them fast enough that nobody got on a phone. That would make everything more complicated, and that was the last thing we needed.
As it was, we were going to draw the authorities' attention, and in this neighborhood prone to violence, their response times were under ten minutes.
"Gregg takes the alley behind the laundromat," I said. "Vlad, you push from the north end. Yakov and I go straight up the sidewalk and take the bodega first."
"Your side," Yakov said, looking at me.
"What about it?"
"Keller said to rest, Boss… You should be staying back and running ops. We can handle this."
What was he, my goddamn mother? I scowled and snarled, "Keller isn't here and we're not having this conversation." I checked my weapon and looked at Vlad. "When you hear the first shot, move. Don't give them time to think or call for help."
Vlad nodded and peeled off with his team down the alley to circle around the block. I gave him sixty seconds and then nodded at Yakov.
"Ready?"
"Always, Boss," he said, but he still didn't seem pleased about me moving in. I knew the risks. With such a short healing time on a core injury like this, busting stitches was a real possibility, but so was losing my entire territory if I sat back and did nothing. And I wasn’t the sort of man to sit back and let other men fight my battles when I was well able.
We stalked up the sidewalk quickly, staying tight to the storefronts. The two men outside the bodega were leaning against the security gate sharing a cigarette.
They looked bored, like they’d given up thinking trouble would come weeks ago and had relaxed into some peaceful state of bliss.
One of them glanced our direction, though, and I saw the recognition smack him in the face about a half second before Yakov raised his weapon and put him down.
The second one grabbed for his waistband but I dropped him with two rounds before his fingers touched the grip.
He hit the sidewalk and the cigarette rolled into the gutter still burning.
"Move, move," I ordered, and Yakov was already pushing toward the bodega.
The security gate rattled from inside as someone tried to pull it down. Gregg's team had come through the back and I heard gunshots inside the building before I heard him call out: "One down in here. Bodega's clear."
My side was already screaming. I had barely done more than crouch and walk but I could feel the wound seeping. It'd been seeping every day, which Keller said was normal as long as it was clear, but this didn’t feel like seeping.
"Boss, you're bleeding," Yakov said from somewhere behind me and I grumbled.
"I know. Keep going," I snarled, nodding at the pawnshop next door.
It wasn't enough that Markin had taken over my convenience stores. He had to go into other shops too and start instigating trouble with shop owners.
The elderly man who owned the pawn shop had never given us any trouble at all. In fact, he'd offloaded several of our tainted weapons at one point, and we owed him a debt.
To see Markin's men there was infuriating.
We were creeping closer when two of Markin's men came out the side door of the pawn shop with their guns up.
Vlad's crew caught the first one from behind and put him face down on the concrete before he could get a shot off.
But the second one looked at me and the gun in my hand and did something I wasn't expecting.
He threw his weapon aside and charged right at me.
His shoulder hit my chest before I could get my arm up and we went down together to the sidewalk.
The impact knocked my gun loose and it bounced across the concrete and disappeared under a parked car.
Then his fist came straight at my face, hard enough to snap my head sideways and fill my mouth with blood.
He was a large man, far heavier than me, and his next swing was ready before I had even recovered.
But I noticed his fist coming in just in time to move my head, causing his knuckles to smash into the concrete.
At the same time I sucker punched him in the ribs and he rolled to the side coughing.
We got to our feet at the same time, but he came in swinging wildly. I slipped the first punch but the second one hooked into my left side, right into my wound, forcing the air from my lungs as I tried to bring my elbow down to block it.
The pain was excruciating.
My eyes clamped shut as the world started to spin and I felt the stitches go all at once like someone had torn the seam open with both hands.
Blood ran down my side and soaked into my waistband and I grabbed the wall to keep my legs under me.
It took everything I had not to collapse as I sucked in air, listening to the drum of gunfire around me.
The laundromat emptied into the street, proving we were outnumbered, but we had good cover and positioning.
What I didn't have was protection. And the man coming at me was relentless.
He saw me buckle and came forward looking for the finish.
He threw a straight right at my head and I ducked it and drove my fist so deep into his stomach that he folded over with a wet grunt.
Then I grabbed the back of his skull with both hands and brought my knee into his nose.
The crack was ugly and loud and he staggered backward with blood sheeting down his face.
Unfortunately for him, he was too stupid to know when to quit, and he came at me again, growling like an ogre. I sidestepped him and caught his collar and slammed his face into the brick.
His head bounced off the wall and his legs went liquid, dragging him down as I hit him one more time square in the temple. This time he dropped to the concrete and stayed there.
I leaned against the wall heaving to catch my breath and pressed my hand to my side, looking down at it. Blood ran through my fingers and dripped off my belt onto the concrete.
It wasn't as bad as the night I'd been shot, and three weeks out, I knew the internal shit was probably healed up already. This was just surface bleeding. I'd survive.
"Vlad," I called out between breaths, seeing what was happening. "The laundromat."
"On it," he growled as more gunshots erupted.
Then Yakov was beside me with his eyes on the blood spreading through my shirt. He didn't ask how bad it was because he could see for himself.
"Get the car," I told him. I knew I had to sit down before I passed out. If one of Markin's men found me lying on the sidewalk they'd end me, no doubt.
"You need a hospital, Boss."
"Well, fucking call Keller, but just get the car and take me home."
Gregg came out of the bodega and stopped when he saw me propped against the wall bleeding, but he wisely said nothing. I knew we were winning this battle, but any second the police would come in and I had to be gone when they showed up.
"Post a rotation," I ordered. "I want our men on this block heavily and not letting anyone else in or out. Got it?"
"Yeah, Boss…" Gregg offered an expression of concern, but he stomped off to follow my orders, walking right into the fray.
When Yakov pulled the car around, I climbed in, and the ride home was bad. I sat in the back pressing Vlad's bundled-up jacket against the wound but every bump in the road sent a searing spike of pain through my side.
By the time Yakov pulled up to the house the jacket was soaked through and the leather seat beneath me was smeared with crimson.
"Let me help you," Yakov snipped as I slid out of the back seat and I waved him off.
"Keep your hands off me," I snarled. "Go park the car. I'm fine." I bit down against the pain, already making up my mind that if they called Keller in I'd send him out too. I'd survived worse things than this and I hated people trying to coddle me.
I struggled into my study, past Radimir who didn’t even bat an eye at me, and found Kira there with a mug of something in her hand and a scowl on her face.
"What did you do?" she asked as she sipped her mug. But her eyes found the blood on my shirt and I watched her whole expression rearrange itself. Her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide.
"We took the block back," I snapped, though I wasn't angry with her. I was just in a massive amount of pain once again.
I staggered to my desk and dropped into the chair while she came around the desk without asking and pulled my shirt aside.
When she saw the wound gaping open with the torn threads of Keller's stitches still hanging from the edges of it, she sucked in a sharp breath.
"Fuck, Niko," she said, dropping to her knees. "You busted the stitches open."
"Yeah, whatever. Just pour me a drink." The bleeding had almost stopped. The only thing I could see was that maybe it'd get infected, or the scar would be uglier. But I could live with those things.
"Keller told you not to leave this house." She straightened up and her eyes were hot with concerned anger. "He specifically told you to stay off your feet, Niko. What the hell were you thinking?"
"He came at me. I didn't have the option of asking him to wait." Her worry was endearing, knowing she still cared even a smidgen about my wellbeing. But I didn't need a mother either.
"You had the option of not being there." Her voice got louder and her hands balled into fists as she stood up.
"You keep doing this and you're going to die.
Do you get that? Somebody's going to put you down and there won't be a thing anyone can do about it.
" Kira's lip trembled as she spoke. I hadn't realized she cared that much.
As many times as she pushed me away, I was beginning to think she'd grown to hate me.
"I can't sit home while my territory disappears."
"You can't run a territory from a coffin either."
I leaned back in the chair and looked at her. "I didn’t ask you."
She scoffed and turned like she might stomp out, but I leaned forward and snatched her wrist, pulling her back toward me.
It made her stumble until she was on my lap, getting that pretty grey sweater stained in my blood.
I curled my hand around her cheek and brushed a bloody thumb over her cheek bone, hoping she'd lean down to kiss me.
But she pinched my arm and stood up.
"No, you don’t get to do that…" Her arms folded over her chest, making her tits push out.
"Do what?" I snarled, eyeing the blood on the sweater.
"Try to kiss me, or make me feel sorry for you." Again her lip quivered and this time she turned and stomped to the door, just as Yakov was strolling in.
He glowered at her, and looked down at the blood on her shirt, but she didn't stop walking.
My own irritation at being injured had caused me to treat her badly right when she wanted to open up and show concern.
This was never going to get through to her and show her I wasn't her enemy.
In fact, if anything I was her only option left.
Her father hadn't done a single thing when we announced the marriage.
Not an attack, not a request for parlay.
And if I was right, he was either planning something bigger, or he was running scared.
And if I knew him, it wasn't the latter.