Chapter 25 #2
“You get to spend time with me. I’m the prize. I’m the reward,” she answers confidently.
“You are,” I admit. I turn around and motion to Sergei, who comes forward immediately.
“Sir, is there anything I can help you with?” he asks.
“My wife and I would like some privacy. Why don’t you and the others go wait by the car?” I tell him.
“Sir, are you sure?” he asks, looking concerned. “We can stay more discreet. We don’t think it’s safe around here.”
“Don’t worry. I can handle myself,” I reassure him. “Plus, this is a foreign country. We’ve done our sweeps. We talked with the Portuguese mafia, and we have a good relationship with them. It should be fine around here except maybe some street dogs, and I can handle those on my own.”
“Okay, sir,” he says, though I can tell he doesn’t like it.
Zoya’s waiting for me with her hands on her hips. “Are you coming?” she calls out.
“Of course. Lead the way,” I tell her.
We walk around, checking out old buildings with crumbling facades and colorful tiles. We turn down a residential street and see two women fighting in the middle of the road. A crowd has gathered, and Zoya joins right in with the cheering.
“Yeah! Beat her up!” Zoya shouts. “Yes! No, no, no- she’s gonna drag you by the hair! Grab her hair!”
I’m also watching, completely invested in the spectacle. “Uppercut! Yes!” I shout.
The crowd is cheering and excited. One woman finally wins, and the other runs off crying. It’s getting really dark now, and the streets are starting to empty, but Zoya is still just as energetic as she was this morning.
“Zoya, I think it’s time we go home for real this time,” I tell her. “It’s late, and we have activities tomorrow. We can continue this another day.”
“Alright. Sure,” she finally agrees.
We turn a corner and start heading back, and that’s when five men step out into our path. Each one is grinning and arrogant, and they come together with a look that is far too calculating. One of them, whom I presume is the leader, comes forward.
“Well, well, well. Rich kids walking around these parts,” he says with a laugh. “Didn’t anybody tell you it’s dangerous around here?”
They all laugh like villains in a movie, explaining their plan before they even do anything. I think to myself that they must have watched too many dumb shows, because I would never tell my enemies what I was going to do.
One of them comes toward me as we’re backed up against a wall. I put Zoya behind me immediately. If I were alone, I wouldn’t mind finishing them all off, but with her here, I can’t be reckless. I have to protect her first.
The guy touches my coat and says, “Look at this. Expensive.”
“Who told you that?” Zoya’s voice cuts through the air. “Who sent you?”
The man turns to her and sneers. “Didn’t anybody tell you women should shut up when men are talking? You’re probably a whore. Shut your mouth before I call your pimp.”
“Watch what you say to my wife,” I warn him, my voice going low.
The man just laughs. “Wife? That’s rich. Look, we’ll overpower you, rape her, kill you, and sell your organs.”
“We’ll rape her first. Then sell your bitch into trafficking,” another one adds as they all begin to cackle.
I move instantly to wrap my hand around the first man's throat and lift him off the ground. “Say that again,” I dare him.
The others freeze for a heartbeat, but then the sharp, metallic snap of a gun cocking cuts through the silence. Before the muzzle flash even fades from my eyes, I’ve already yanked the leader’s body in front of me, using him as a human shield while his own friend's bullets tear through his back.
“Shit! You killed Marco!” one of them screams.
The body goes limp, and I charge forward with the corpse, using it to knock into another man. That’s two down. There are three left, and one of them has a gun. I realize then that I forgot my own weapon in the beach bag.
I let the dead weight of the body drop to the cobblestones as another man charges me with a knife, his face twisted in a desperate sort of rage.
I catch his wrist and twist it back until I hear the snap, taking the weapon for myself and sinking it into his throat in one fluid motion that sends him straight to the dirt. That makes three.
The gunman fires erratically, but I dodge and charge him. I break his wrist and kick him in the groin, and when he falls, I kick his head. He goes down groaning, but he’s still alive. There are two left with knives, and one of them decides to go for Zoya instead of me.
I charge him and use my leg to break his knee. He screams and drops to the ground. That’s four down.
“Are you okay?” I ask Zoya.
“Yeah,” she answers.
“Go stand over there in the corner. Don’t come here. I’ll deal with it,” I tell her.
The last guy with a knife tries to rush me, but I catch him mid-swing and snap his arm before hammering my fist into his face until he finally stops moving.
That’s five down, but before I can even catch my breath, a sudden, searing heat blooms in my shoulder.
The gunman I’d already dropped somehow found his weapon with his good hand and managed to get a shot in.
The gunman on the floor starts to line up another shot, but Zoya reaches him first and kicks him square in the head with her heel. He drops like a stone, and the momentum sends her stumbling back until she lands on the ground, clutching her foot.
I cross the distance with the fourth man still in my grip and slam him into the ground.
Then I step on the gunman’s shoulder. I hear him scream, but I don’t even look at him, focusing all my attention on my Vedma, who is hurt.
I’m on my knees beside Zoya in an instant, asking, “Fuck! Are you okay? Did you hurt your foot?”
She winces, clutching her ankle. “My foot hurts!” she says, her face twisted in pain, but the gunman on the ground can’t keep his mouth shut.
“You stupid bitch! I’m going to…” he starts to growl, but I don't even look at him. I just use my free hand to drive a blow into his ribs with the force of a sledgehammer, feeling the bone crunch and shatter beneath my knuckles until he gurgles and goes silent.
“Does this hurt?” I ask, pressing gently on Zoya’s ankle.
“A little…” she starts to say.
“Do you know how well I take care of my wife?” I ask, my voice sounding deadly calm while I examine her. “Do you know how expensive her pedicures are? How much time and care go into keeping her perfect? And you made her hurt her foot on your thick skull?”
There’s no swelling, so I figure it’s just a bruise. “His head was too hard. You’re going to bruise. I’m killing him extra for that,” I tell her, massaging her foot.
“Alexei, you’re bleeding…” she points out.
“I’m fine,” I say, and I kiss her ankle gently. “But you were perfect and so fucking brave.”
I help her up and look at the fourth man, still conscious and nursing a broken knee. “Who sent you?” I ask.
He spits blood and manages to talk, “You’re about to kill us anyway…”
“I don’t have time for your stupid riddles and I have to help my injured wife so. Who….sent….you?” I repeat.
He looks at the bodies. The blood everywhere. Then back at me. “If I tell you… You won’t kill us?”
I smile at him. “Tell me, and I give you my word.”
It’s total bullshit.
“It was an old man! He paid us three hundred thousand euros just to rough you up!”
“Who is he?” I demand.
“We never saw him, okay! But…but there was always a younger guy with him,” he says.
My blood goes cold. “Do you know his name?”
“No, please, I don’t remember! But it started with a D maybe…”
“What did you call him?” I ask.
“Mr. D! That’s all I know!” he cries.
It must be Dato, the Georgian bastard. I thought leaving him alive while sabotaging some of his businesses would give him a hint not to pry into Russia’s underground crime.
But he seems to be getting bolder. Even to the point of interrupting my time with my wife on my fucking honeymoon.
He’s going to really regret it when I go back.
I’m going to make sure he has a shittier day than I have. And that’s for this whole year.
But who’s the older man with him? Who is Dato working with now?
“Thank you.” I stand up. “You’re free to go.”
They stare at me like I’ve lost my mind - the man with the broken knee and the one with the broken arm.
“I said go.”
They scramble up and start limping toward the end of the alley, looking over their shoulders as if they can’t believe I’m letting them leave. I gesture toward the gun on the ground. “Wifey, grab that for me.”
Zoya picks it up and brings it over, her fingers brushing mine as I take it. I lean in to kiss her, but she jerks back, her nose wrinkling from the smell. “You’re covered in blood.”
I glance down at myself and let out a short laugh. “Right.”
“Go stand in the corner,” I tell her, nodding toward the end of the alley. “Cover your ears and look pretty for me while I finish this.”
“Alexei…”
“Corner. Now.”
She hesitates, then walks to the far wall, pressing her back against it as she covers her ears.
I turn my attention back to the men. They’ve made it maybe twenty meters, trying to run despite their limps, glancing over their shoulders like they think they still have a chance.
They don’t.
I raise the gun and fire twice. Two clean shots and they drop dead.
I never give my word to dead men.