Chapter 20
J ane! will you hear reason? (he stooped and approached his lips to my ear) because, if you won’t, I’ll try violence. - Charlotte Bronte , Jane Eyre
Dimitri
“Mr. Kosgov, we need to prepare for landing. Mr. Kosgov?”
Distracted, I finally heard her and looked up from my phone. “Yes. Thank you, Meghan.”
Picking up my glass, I drained the last of the contents and handed it to her.
After buckling my seat belt, I once more reached for my phone.
Tapping the screen, the Google map reappeared.
There was a small red dot showing the GPS on Emma’s phone.
It was several miles away from her apartment.
Several miles away from where she was supposed to be right now.
She was supposed to be safely tucked in her bed.
I should have known something was up. Her voice had sounded strained on the phone when I’d talked to her earlier; I just assumed she was tired.
After all, I had kept her up half the night fucking her raw and then she had class and work today.
Never in a million years did I think the little minx was lying to me.
Sure, she hadn’t overtly said she was in for the night, but my baby girl damn well knew that was what I’d assumed when I’d ended our call.
A lie by omission is still a lie… and the punishment will be the same.
Goddamn it. She should be home safe in my bed waiting for me right now.
After the urgent phone call I had received from Vaska this morning, there hadn’t been time to prepare for her to remain at my place.
Problem was, I didn’t know her class and work schedule yet, and I didn’t want her traveling from the college all the way downtown alone, even if I could arrange for a private car service.
With the newly installed security system, I figured it was preferable she reside at her place, which was closer to the college, and where she had Mary for company… for now.
Fucking Moroccan problem.
A few of our military contacts had been in New York at the United Nations under the guise of a peacekeeping meeting.
It had been my hope that I could resolve the supply chain issue today and not have to drag my ass to Morocco, but it didn’t go well.
They were insisting on a face-to-face where they had the home field advantage.
Since we had a shipment of several surface-to-air missiles and over five hundred cases of Winchester Magnum sniper rifles en route and scheduled to arrive secretly at the port they controlled in less than a week, I had no choice.
Which meant the private plane I had just used to fly last minute to New York would barely touch down in Chicago for twenty-four hours before I would head to Morocco—leaving Emma again.
Twenty-four hours would give me time to have Emma’s belongings moved to my house and to arrange for a private guard and driver.
Staring down at my phone, I tapped on the screen again.
The Last Call Bar.
That was where my baby girl was right now.
Unprotected at some dive bar.
My fist closed around the phone till I heard a crack.
Unprotected… but not for long.
* * *
The moment we landed, I’d barely allowed the air stairs to lower before I was vaulting down them and into our private hangar at Midway.
“You! Is the helicopter gassed up and ready?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Let’s go.”
Crossing through the hangar, I pushed through the metal exit door to the landing pad behind.
Waiting on the tarmac was a black and crimson Enstrom 280FX Shark Helicopter.
Vaska and I had chosen it for its light agility and ability to land quickly and take off in smaller spaces and rooftops around Chicago, an asset in our business.
“Where to, boss?”
Pointing to my phone screen, I asked, “How close can you get me to there?”
The pilot nodded as he put on his helmet and adjusted his microphone.
I did the same. He started up the propellers before responding.
“That bar has a decent-sized parking lot. If it’s not too full, I could drop you there,” he shouted over the din of the engines and propeller despite the microphones.
I indicated my approval, then watched as the helicopter quickly rose into the night sky.
* * *
Unbuckling my seat belt, I lowered myself onto the helicopter skids as we hovered over the parking lot. Not giving him a chance to land, I jumped the several feet to the tarmac then signaled for the pilot to take it up and wait for me.
Brushing aside the aghast onlookers, I stormed through the scarred double wooden doors of the Last Call Bar.
Scanning the room, I could see the usual motley crowd you’d expect to see at a bar on a Friday night, including several drunk businessmen with their jackets off and ties askew.
The place was laid out simply, large and square with a central bar, one emergency exit to the back right and another door that presumably led to the back-of-the-house area to the left.
Tucking my gun more firmly in my back waistband, I shouldered my way through the throng toward the bar, knowing the bartender would be the best place to start.
There was no way an innocent beauty like Emma would escape their scrutiny.
Leaning over the slightly sticky wooden surface, I gestured to get the bartender’s attention. My jaw tightened as Emma’s roommate turned to face me.
“Dimitri! What are you doing here? Does Emma know you’re here?”
“Where is she?” I shouted over the pounding music.
Mary leaned both palms on the bar and raised up onto her toes as she scanned over the crowd. “I don’t see her. Hold on, I’ll ask Mike. She might be dropping off dirty glasses in the back.”
“She’s working here?” My jaw tightened as my fingers closed into a fist.
What the fuck?
I paid her tuition and gave her spending money so she wouldn’t feel the need to work, especially not in some bar. She knew I thought her working in that basement research library was too isolated and dangerous. There was no fucking way she didn’t realize I would disapprove of this .
Mary held her hands up. “Only for tonight. She’s helping me out.”
“Where is she?” I was about two seconds away from taking out my gun and firing a few shots in the air just to clear out the bar and find her.
“Mike! Mike! Where’s Emma?”
The guy she called out to grabbed a bar towel and wiped his palms as he approached. “Huh?”
Mary cupped her hand around her mouth and shouted over the music and crowd. “Where’s Emma?”
Mike motioned with his thumb over his shoulder. “I asked her to pull a couple bottles of rum for me from the liquor cage. She’s taking forever.”
Fuck.
That was all I needed to hear.
Shoving through the crowd, I focused on the battered metal door to the left.
It was where Mike had gestured and, I already assessed, probably led to the back area.
Bursting through the door, I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the bright fluorescent kitchen lights as compared to the dimly lit bar area.
Pointing to the first man I saw, he froze with a fryer basket of fries in his hand, his eyes wide with fear. “Liquor cage?” I ground out, baring my teeth.
He motioned with his head. “Down the hall. Last door on the right.”
The rest of the staff wisely leapt out of my way as I crashed through the kitchen and down the hallway, calling out her name.
The last door on the right was a heavy metal door.
No longer white, it was covered in scratches and dark smudges from decades of rubber-soled shoes kicking it closed. I tried the lever handle.
Locked.
By now, both Mary and Mike had caught up to me, standing behind me in the narrow hallway as the rest of the kitchen staff looked on curiously.
Glancing over my shoulder, I asked, “Is this door usually locked?”
Mary’s red lipstick was a bloody slash across her face as her complexion drained of color. “No. Never during service. There is a caged wall a few feet inside the door where we keep the booze. It’s secured with a padlock.”
Balling my hand into a fist, I pounded on it. “Open the fucking door.”
I thought I heard a muffled shout, but I couldn’t be certain. There was too much noise around me.
My gaze traveled over the door. It was reinforced steel and opened out, which meant I couldn’t kick it down.
Reaching behind me, I took out my gun.
Mary gasped. Mike muttered a low curse.
“You there,” I called, singling out the closest staff member with obvious prison tattoos. I knew my kind when I saw one. “Make some fucking noise.”
He nodded. Turning to his co-workers, he shouted at them to slam pots together. Mike followed suit, waving his arms and shouting as he grabbed a ladle and beat it against the side of the pizza oven. Between that and the already elevated music inside the bar, I’d be covered.
“Step back and cover your ears,” I ordered Mary.
Careful to angle the gun to only shoot off the lever handle and not hit the metal door, which could cause a deadly ricochet, I fired.
The handle flew clean off to clatter across the tile floor, landing in a corner. Shoving my fingers into the open hole it left, I pulled the door open.
And saw red.
The room reeked of rum. The dirty cement floor was soaked with liquor and covered in shattered glass. Emma was pinned against the cage wall. Her face was turned to the side as she struggled in the grasp of some drunken businessman in a suit.
Correction, a dead drunken businessman.
“Come on, slut. You know you want it,” he slurred as his hand reached down to his pants.
With an inhuman roar, I grabbed the man by the shoulder and pulled him off my girl. He spun till his back hit the cage. His feet then slipped in the rum and he fell on his ass onto the filthy floor.
Wrapping my hand around the dead man’s throat, I forced him back onto his feet.
“What the fuck, man?” His fleshy face was covered in sweat from fear and overindulgence.
I shoved the muzzle of my gun between his teeth. His eyes bulged as his shoulders heaved.
Without taking my eyes off him, I ordered, “Get her out of here.”
“Dimitri,” appealed Emma as she reached out an arm to touch me but pulled back.
Turning, I saw her stricken pale face and torn shirt and wanted to howl in rage. A bullet would be too good for this man; I was going to tear his flesh off his bones with my bare hands.
“I said get her out of here!” I shouted.
I didn’t want Emma to see this side of me. The violent thug I usually hid behind a veneer of expensive suits and cultured tastes. The ruthless criminal who had built an empire not through empty threats but through savage force.
Mary wrapped her arms around Emma and dragged her toward the door.
“Come on, Emma. You don’t need to see this.”
“No! Dimitri! Don’t, please!” she cried out as she struggled in Mary’s grasp.
“Mike! Help me,” called out Mary.
The two of them wrapped their hands around Emma’s upper arms and pulled her out of the room.
“You have to stop him! He can’t do this! Please! Dimitri! Please!”
I could hear her cries echoing down the hallway. I turned my attention back to the man who had dared to assault my girl.
“Я должен покончить с твоей жизнью прямо сейчас за то, что прикоснулся к тому, что принадлежит мне.”
Hearing the Russian language, the man’s face crumpled as he blubbered and cried around the muzzle of my gun.
He didn’t need to know I had just told him I could end his life right now for touching what was mine.
I knew what a terrifying vision I made, between the neck and hand tattoos, gun, and speaking Russian.
He knew he was in far worse trouble than if an American cop had stopped him.
“Dimitri, I need you! Please, don’t do this!”
Her sorrowful cry from outside the door pierced my heart.
One day she was going to have to face the hard truth about who and what I was… but this wasn’t that day. Not for a piece of shit drunken asshole like this.
Releasing his throat, I reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his wallet. Opening the leather flap, I read the name on his driver’s license. “Brad Crenski.”
He cried out and struggled to grab the wrist holding the gun in his mouth.
I cocked the hammer on the Glock.
He let go and held his hands high as he tried to plead with me. The words indistinct and muffled. Not that I gave a damn what this piece of shit had to say, anyway.
Using my thumb, I slid out a business card from one of the wallet folds. It had his name in gold foil under a long law firm name.
I had all the information I required. I pulled the gun free.
“I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth as he pitifully pled for his life.
Emma was already traumatized. The last thing she needed was me to return to her with this piece of shit’s brain matter and blood all over me. Someone else would get that pleasure tonight.
“Get out of my sight.”
By now two bouncers were standing guard near the threshold. With a respectful nod to me; like I said, I know my kind when I see them. They seized the man by the upper arms and dragged him to the nearest exit.
Taking out my phone, I called Vaska.
“How’d it go in New York?”
“Later. Right now I have a job for you.”
I repeated Brad’s home address and other details, before saying, “He attacked Emma.”
“Fuck. Is she all right?”
“She will be.”
“Consider it handled, my friend. I’ll call Ivan. He’ll make it painful. Go take care of your girl.”
Brad wouldn’t live to see tomorrow, and I didn’t feel even a shred of guilt over that fact.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to rein in my wrath.
Now it was time to deal with Emma.
My baby girl was about to learn there were consequences for lying to me and putting herself in danger like this.
Punishing ones.