Chapter 7David
7
David
I don’t tell anyone about my agenda for today, not even Miroslav. Sometimes it’s smarter to keep the tactics to yourself, to see who you can really trust. But of course, I already know the answer to that. You can never trust anyone. Not fully.
I’m in the car with another one of my drivers. I tried to leave Hazel with Miroslav, but she insisted that I leave her alone, that she didn’t want ‘some weirdo’ watching her all day.
The argument had gotten heated, but I’d finally relented, giving her my number and telling her to call me right away if something happened.
She promised to stay in the condo on the agreement that our deal would be off if she left. Now here I sit in this car, worrying about her safety, but hoping for the best. She’s the only person I know capable of making me back down.
Her feistiness makes her even more irresistible.
I can’t stop thinking about our kiss, the softness of her lips brushing against mine, the softness of her breath against my cheek, her warm, slender fingers lightly tugging on my hair. I shove the images out of my head, along with my brewing desire. I don’t have time to think about that right now.
“Just pull up here,” I instruct the driver as we pull into the parking lot of a seedy apartment complex.
“Need me to go in with you, boss?” he asks, meeting my gaze in the rearview mirror.
“No.” I clutch the door handle and push it open, stepping out onto the pavement that’s still steaming after a summer morning rain shower. “This I need to do on my own.”
I walk through a breezeway and tromp up a flight of stairs to an apartment on the second floor, a spot we use for bratva business on occasion.
Inside, one of my guys, Oleg, is sitting on a folding chair smoking a cigarette in the center of the room. His leg bounces up and down. He scrubs a hand over his buzzed hair like he’s trying to rub away the stress. When he sees me, he stands up and nods his head in my direction.
His eyes dart behind me as if he’s expecting to be ambushed. The hair on the back of my neck rises with my suspicions.
He shifts his weight and takes a long drag of the cigarette before blowing the smoke out through the corner of his mouth.
“You wanted to see me about a new money deal, boss?” he asks in Russian.
“Something like that.” I arranged this meeting on the pretense that I would be discussing a new deal with Oleg, but my real goal is to confront him about what he’s doing without my permission.
His eyes brighten slightly as if he’s eager to hear about it. “What is it? A new client? A new shipment to take care of?”
There have been rumors floating around that Oleg is involved in gun trafficking. I don’t normally believe in taking action against rumors. I need true evidence. And I’m determined to get it today.
I take a step closer. I watch Oleg’s throat bob. His eyes dart behind me again. He’s fidgeting now, stepping from one foot to the other like he’s restless. His face pales when I glare at him.
“What are you looking at?” I ask in Russian.
“What do you mean?”
“You keep looking behind me,” I say.
“What’s going on, boss?” he asks.
“Why don’t you tell me?” I throw the question back at him. “Can I trust you?”
His face collapses. “Of course you can, boss. You know that.”
“You would never do anything behind my back, would you?” I continue glowering at him.
“Why would you think that?” His face is gray in the dim lighting that’s filtering in through the slits in the blinds.
“Why do you seem nervous?” I ask. “I can’t have my captains running around with side hustle behind my back. Especially when it comes to guns.”
He shrugs, trying to act nonchalantly but I see the fear sprinting through his eyes. When I start marching toward him, he stumbles backward, knocking the chair over. He tosses the cigarette on the concrete floor and smashes it with his heel.
“What’s going on, boss? Is this a set up?” His voice shakes. “Are you going to take me out or something?”
I smirk. “Take you out?”
He shakes his head, pressing his palms to his temples. “Everything is just so messed up right now.”
“What do mean?”
“Are you going to kill me?” he asks, swallowing hard. Guilt is laced in his words.
“That depends on whether you’re betraying me,” I growl, grabbing his shirt. I push him into the corner and slam his back into the wall, breathing hard and fast, teeth gritting so hard that they creak.
“You’re making me lose my patience, Oleg. I don’t like to lose my patience, and you aren’t going to like it either.”
Oleg stares at me, stunned, but he can’t manage to erase the guilt marking his features.
“Are you running a side business without my permission?” I bark out. “Tell me the truth. Now.”
Oleg licks his lips, stammers out a “what?”
“You heard me,” I hiss, pushing him further against the wall. His shoulders scrape against it, the bones grinding against the hard surface.
“Why would you think that?” he asks, but it’s clear that he’s just trying to buy himself time.
“Don’t lie to me,” I roar, as the tendons in my neck strain.
Oleg flinches and raises his hands by his sides. “I swear, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“What have you done? Tell me exactly what you’ve been up to behind my back.” I want him to admit it outright, so I’ll know the rumors are true. I want him to tell me exactly what he’s been doing. It’s better if he implicates himself.
“Nothing that terrible,” he says. “Nothing that would hurt anyone here. It’s all for a cause, really.”
“You’re not leaving this room until you tell me what you’ve been doing behind my back.”
He blows out a puff of air and squeezes his eyes shut. I cup his neck in my hand and press down until he’s gasping and sputtering, choking. His eyes bulge out and he looks at me with a deep fear.
I clench my teeth and start squeezing my fingers around his jugular. He flails, trying to squirm out of my grasp but I’m bigger than him and he’s not making any progress.
He tries to shove me off, fingers scraping against my shirt, stubs of his nails attempting to slice through my forearms.
I finally release him. He swallows huge gulps of air, bending over with his palms on his knees. He’s panting hard.
When he lifts his eyes to me, there’s humor in his gaze, and a small smirk curls the edges of his mouth as if to say he knows I don’t have it in me to kill him.
His confidence makes my blood boil, that he thinks he can just waltz out of here with a vault of secrets and illegal operations going on right under my nose.
He’s about to learn the hard way that I’m not as soft as he thinks I am. I ball my fist and rear it back, slamming it into the side of his jaw.
His head knocks back, his eyes rolling back in his head. He stumbles backward. When he regains his balance and straightens, his eyes burn with rage, his jaw locking. His own fists ball at his sides, his breathing fast and seething. He spits blood onto the ground.
“What the hell?” he growls.
I pull a gun from the clip behind my back and cock it, aiming it between his eyes.
“Whoa.” He lifts his arms by his sides again, scrambling on his heels.
“You better tell me exactly what you’re running behind my back, or this bullet is going into your skull,” I warn.
He licks his lips, his face still ashen, his cheeks hollow. “Alright, alright,” he exclaims after a pause. “I’ve been doing the gun trafficking as a side hustle. It’s not as bad as it sounds, though, and there’s good money in it.”
“You betrayed me,” I roar, the sound of my voice vibrating through my chest.
“I had no choice,” he shouts, backing himself into a corner.
“You do have a choice. You always have a choice, and you made the wrong one.” I step closer, the gun steady in my hand.
“I need more money, boss. I’m not making enough,” Oleg cries.
I glance at the Rolex shining on his wrist, the diamonds circling the face of it and laugh. It’s a barbaric sound, one of wrath. “You wear that, and expect me to believe you need more money?”
Oleg’s eyes jump from me to the gun and then to the window beside us. Before I realize what he’s doing, he sprints to the window, pushes it open, and jumps out.
I jog over and look down. He lands on a dumpster, rolls off it, stands up, brushes the dirt off his thighs and bolts down the street, glancing up at me only once before disappearing behind a side street corner.
I shove the gun back on the clip and punch the wall, taking my frustrations out on it until my knuckles are red and raw.
I don’t run down the stairs or chase after him. I don’t want to cause a scene out there in the streets, especially when I’m trying to get my reputation in this city under control.
I let him go for now, knowing that he’ll be shaken by my threats. If he’s smart enough, he won’t do anything else stupid before I can deal with him later.