Chapter 48 Ransome
RANSOME
“Where did you find Igor?”
I make my way into the warehouse. Lights turn as we make our way through the corridor. Production has come to a screeching halt thanks to Tristan intercepting our trucks, which are sitting empty in the open room. The whole place is a ghost town. You could send dogs in and they wouldn’t even bark.
Damon stays in step with me. “It wasn’t hard, honestly. Even though everyone Tristan hired is staying pretty low, Igor hits Foxy’s All Nude BYOB almost every night. My guy Jameson was able to snag him within hours.”
“That tracks,” I say as we round the corner. We’re headed for one of the side rooms. It’s a ten by ten with nothing but a single chair cemented to the middle and a small table against the wall. On the table is a surgical kit, among other devices including woodworking and gardening tools.
“Why did you want him specifically?” Damon asks.
“I was tipped off that he might be the easiest to crack of all the guys working closely with Tristan.”
“Easier than one of the cons he scooped up from the jailbreak?” he asks with a small, amused smile.
It’s almost funny how much Damon enjoys this shit.
He’s a cop. Head of the NYPD, to be exact.
And while he does the good work in the eye of the city, he’s nothing short of diabolical when it comes from working with the Bratva.
Some say it’s the money. Paying off a small army to work on our side while keeping their mouths shut is not cheap.
But I think it’s that Damon comes from a long line of chiefs who have been working with us.
At the same time that he took his oath to protect the city, he was also secretly vowing loyalty to the Rozanov family.
I guess it’s true what they say: everyone, no matter how good, sells at least a little bit of themselves to the devil.
We stop outside the door and peer in through the small square window. Maverick and Barons are standing over Igor who is chained to the chair, a bag over his head. From the way he’s sweating and shaking, I assume he knows he’s in a bad spot. Knowing Maverick, he’s already fucked with him a bit too.
“He knows Tristan,” I tell Damon. “He’s been loyal to him for a while. Long enough that Tristan probably has loose lips around him. He’ll be able to tell us not only what Tristan’s doing now, but what his plan is in its entirety.”
“Hmm.” Damon thinks about that. “How did you know he was your guy?”
“Jenica,” I say.
“And you don’t think that’s a trap?” Damon asks with an arched eyebrow.
It’s not an unfair question. God knows I’ve asked myself the same thing. But no matter how bad our relationship has been in the past, Jenica and I work better as allies than we ever did as spouses. Getting our marriage out of the way actually eased us into a real truce.
Besides, she’s better off without Tristan in the picture too. “I think Jenica is trying to escape a trap of her own.”
I open the door. Damon and I walk in.
Igor startles at the sound of it and turns his head despite not being able to see anything. He’s mumbling in a shaky voice. “Moy Bog ne ostavit menya…”
“I can’t tell what the fuck he’s saying,” Maverick says. “He’s been mumbling through broken teeth for an hour.”
The broken teeth bit is because Maverick punched an extra hole in his mouth. I can tell because of the blood all over the front of his shirt.
“‘My God will not forsake me,’” Baron translates with no emotion.
He doesn’t like this part of the job and never has.
To be honest, I don’t either. But I’ve hardened to it over the years, using the pain I feel when I think about Nik’s body going cold on the concrete before his sixteenth birthday to block out the moral sense that tries to get in the way.
Maverick chuckles as he stands behind Igor. Slowly, he pulls the bag off his head. “There’s no God here, suka. Only the devil.”
Igor looks up at me. Sure enough, his mouth is bashed in and his eye is swollen.
“You really did a number on him before I got here,” I say.
“Sorry, boss. I’m a glutton for a little fun.”
“Jameson also had to rough him up a bit at Foxy’s to get him to comply,” Damon says.
“Resisting arrest.” Maverick shakes his head and clicks his tongue.
“Sounds like you’ve had a rough night,” I say calmly to our prisoner. “So let’s get to it.”
I turn to the table as Igor loses his shit, thrashing in his chair and begging in Russian.
“Pozhaluysta, pozhaluysta, pozhaluysta!”
I set my gun on the table and look back over my shoulder casually. “I’m just getting things ready. In case you decide not to play along.”
Igor continues to cry. Blood runs in the tears streaming down his face. Between Maverick’s fist and Jameson’s force, he seems pretty softened up already.
Still, I grab a pair of pliers. Then I pace slowly in front of him.
“Tell me, Igor. What kinds of things do you do working for Tristan?”
“On moy boss—” he stutters and I cut him off.
“English. I’ve had a long day, Igor. I should be lying in bed with my woman right now, not talking to you. Make this easy on my brain and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”
It’s a lie. But persuasion usually is.
“Tristan is my boss. He’s a brother. We are like family,” Igor says.
“Hmm,” I say. “Funny thing about Tristan Chadovich, Igor. He doesn’t seem to give two shits about his family. Blood or otherwise.”
“I have known for a long time,” he says. “I have always been loyal to him.”
“And has that loyalty been returned?” I ask.
Igor opens his mouth, then stops. “That is a trick question,” he says.
I smirk. “What makes you think I’m playing games?”
“Because if I say I am loyal, you will hurt me. But because of my loyalty, I know more about him than most. He is… not so smart when he is drunk. And he is drunk a lot.”
I nod and turn the pliers in my hand. Igor’s nervous eyes are locked on them. “You’re not as stupid as everyone says you are. At least so far.” I stop in front of him. “So tell me. What should I know about Tristan? What is he up to?”
“He has your cocaine.”
I look around and Maverick chuckles.
“You didn’t have to remind me,” I tell him. “I know you had a bag over your head when they dragged you in so you couldn’t see, but my warehouse is dry. He has everything. I want to know how, and what his next plan is.”
“He will kill me if I tell you,” Igor says with the pathetic shred of dignity he is still clinging to.
“I’m sure he said that.” I crouch in front of him. “But I’m curious. What did he say he was going to do?”
“Torture me. Shoot out my kneecaps and light me on fire.”
“Good idea,” Maverick says. “Boss?”
Igor panics, but I hold up my hand. “That does sound like a pretty shitty end to an already fucked-up day. So it won’t be so bad when I slowly rip your fingernails off one by one, right? In comparison anyways.”
Igor swallows hard. But he doesn’t talk.
Sigh.
“Alright. We can do this the hard way if that’s what you prefer.”
I grab his hand, which is tied to the arm of the chair. Then I press the tip of the pliers under one of his nails to get a good grip.
“No, no, no! I will talk! I will tell you everything!” he cries, and I give him half a second of grace.
“Tristan has men at the border. The trucks are being cut off there. They’re posing border control.
They confiscate the loads into their own trucks and then drive straight here.
No stops. We are selling for thirty percent higher. ”
“Fuck.” Baron talks for the first time.
I rip off a finger nail just to ease my anger.
Igor wails as though I’ve disemboweled him. But I’m not done. I grip another finger and glare at him. “What else?”
“He is planning on taking over completely,” he chokes out. “He’s going to have your men killed and come after your family. Dmitry’s going to kill your father over a business lunch. Your mother next. He’ll come after Amara and the baby. And then you.”
He continues to cry as I grit my teeth. Then, after a moment, I remove the pliers and set them down.
Igor shakes as he mumbles. “Spasibo, spasibo, spas—”
The last of his thank-yous is cut short when I grab the gun and put a bullet between his eyes. His head droops forward, spilling fresh blood into his lap and leaking on the floor.
Maverick and Baron stare at me.
“Well?” Baron asks after a moment. “Now what?”
“We kill Tristan,” I answer. “Before he can so much as turn his head in our direction. We kill him.”