Chapter 28 #2
“I’d still like to speak to him.”
“Suit yourself.” She shrugs a shoulder. “I hope you shoot him.”
I only smile. That depends.
She rambles off a telephone number. “Since I kicked him out, he’s bunking with a friend from the bar where he drinks when he’s not fucking.” She flicks the cigarette on the floor and grinds the butt under the sole of her high-heeled sandal. “Black Horse Inn. It’s a dive.”
I know the place. It’s not officially under bratva control, but they do run some of their drugs through there.
I look at Ulysses, who stands next to me with his phone in his hand. He nods to indicate he’s saved the number.
“Thank you, ma’am.” I straighten my tie. “I appreciate your help.”
She crosses her arms and stares after us as we walk away.
“Check with the manager of the club where Naomi worked,” I tell Ulysses as we get into the car. Taking my gun from the holster, I leave it in the glove compartment. “Ask him what he knows about this guy.”
Ulysses fires off a text message. A moment later, a notification pings on his phone.
“I sent him the photo we pulled from the internet.” Ulysses turns the screen my way, showing me a photo of a bald man with a round face and a ruddy skin tone.
“He knows the guy, all right. Says he’s been a frequent client of Naomi.
” He pauses to read something as another ping sounds. “He asks if he should be worried.”
He obviously saw the news about Naomi Foster’s death on the news.
I turn at the intersection, taking the road that leads to the outskirts of the city. “Tell him he doesn’t have to get his panties in a knot. None of this reflects on him.”
The bar stands in the middle of a parking lot. At this hour, the lot is empty except for an old Buick and a Chevy parked at the back. The numberplate of the Buick corresponds to the one registered in Gavril Dmitriev’s name.
I grin as I park near the back exit. “Bingo.”
Ulysses pulls his gun. “Backup?”
I cut the engine and lean over Ulysses to take my gun from the glove compartment. “That won’t be necessary. This isn’t bratva territory.”
Sav and I have established clear boundaries.
As long as we keep off each other’s territories, we don’t bother them and they’re not stupid enough to bother us.
This guy may be moving drugs for them, but he’s not part of their organization.
If he conspired against me, they won’t stand in my way when I deal with him just as I won’t stand in their way if the situation is reversed.
We get out and cock our guns. The place seems quiet. There’s no music or signs of activity.
I tilt my head toward the door. Ulysses goes ahead and positions himself next to the door to cover my back as I go over and knock. I keep my gun behind my back, not wanting to give the guys the wrong impression. I’m here to ask questions first. I’ll only kill if necessary.
A tall man in a wife beater and jeans with tattoos on his face, neck, and arms opens the door. He drags a gaze over my suit. “You’ve got the wrong address, man. This is a private bar.”
He starts to close the door, but I press a hand on the wood. “I just want to talk. Do I need to introduce myself?”
He squints, taking a better look at my face. Recognition registers in his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “No.”
“Good.” I smile. “Aren’t you going to invite us in?”
At us, he stretches his neck to look around the jamb.
Ulysses salutes him.
He clenches his jaw but opens the door wider and stands aside.
The somber interior smells of smoke. A bar built from crude logs runs along the back wall. Tables and chairs are scattered across half of the floor. Pool tables take up the other half.
I step inside.
Ulysses motions for the guy to follow me.
A few empty beer bottles are lined up on the bar counter. I quickly take stock of the doors. One leads to the back, which I presume to be a store and cooler room. The second one has a WC sign above it, and exit written in fluorescent letters lights up the third door.
I’m about to move toward the bar when, from the corner of my eye, I spot movement behind one of the pool tables. A fraction of a second later, the glint of a blade catches the dim ceiling lights as a knife barrels through the air.
My reflexes are fast. I duck to the left, barely missing the blade that was aimed at my heart. Instead, the sharp point grazes my upper arm.
The man sandwiched between us reaches for a knife strapped to his belt, but Ulysses presses the barrel of his gun against the back of the man’s head.
Gavril Dmitriev jumps out from behind the pool table with a gun in his hand. He aims for my chest, but I fire before he has time to pull the trigger. The bullet hits him right between the eyes. His body folds in on itself before it goes down to the floor.
“Don’t move,” Ulysses says. “Do not fucking blink.”
I walk over to where Dmitriev lies with blood pooling around his head. Going down on my haunches, I check his pulse.
Dead.
Motherfucker.
I turn to the tall guy.
He raises his hands. “I didn’t know he was going to throw a knife at you. I was just trying to defend myself.”
I motion at the corpse. “Did he work for you?”
“He was one of my dealers.”
“I assume you’re the guy he was staying with.”
The man gives a terse nod. “I don’t know what your business was with him, but I know nothing about that.”
“He had a lighter pistol.”
“Yeah.” Sweating like a pig, the man glances over his shoulder at Ulysses.
“It was some designer piece his wife got for him. He bragged about it a lot. He liked to joke around with it, offering the guys a light for their smokes and then shooting into the ground. It gave them the fright of their lives.”
I straighten and walk back to the guy. “Where is it?”
“Dunno.” He licks his lips in a nervous gesture. “I haven’t seen it on him for a week, maybe longer. He probably traded it for cash or liquor.”
“Do you believe him?” Ulysses asks.
The guy raises his hands higher. “I’m telling the truth, man.”
I let my gun hang at my side. “Maybe.”
“Look, the guy was a nutter.” The man wipes a hand over his sweaty brow. “We weren’t close. He didn’t even bring in that much money. He didn’t move more than a few grams between regular clients. I only gave him a place to crash because he had contacts in the bratva.”
I move closer. “Who?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t mix with those guys. I get my deliveries from a middleman. Gavril never mentioned a name. But he met them for drinks from time to time.”
“Where?”
“He didn’t say. And honestly, man? I didn’t want to know.”
I jut my chin at Ulysses, who lets the man go.
I put us chest to chest. “If I find out you lied to me, you’ll beg me to kill you long before I’m done with you.”
He holds my gaze without blinking. “I’m not.”
“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” My smile comes slowly. “For now.”
The man’s shoulders slouch as he blows out a breath.
Pointing with the barrel at the body, I say, “And clean up this mess.”
When we’re outside, Ulysses asks, “Are you going to let him handle the cleanup?”
“No.” I walk with brisk strides to the car. “I was just laying down the hierarchy.”
I trust no one but my own people to handle a cleanup.
He chuckles. “Meaning you say jump, and he asks how high?”
“Something like that,” I mumble. “Send in a team.”
He stops next to the car. “Do you think Kent told the truth?”
“Not a chance.” I open the door and get in. When Ulysses slides in into the passenger seat, I start the engine. “I knew him too well.”
“Do you think Naomi Foster was going to shoot you with that lighter?”
“I don’t know.” I turn the car toward the exit. “What I do know, is that Kent shot her to shut her up.”
“You think he was involved with the Russians.”
“I have no idea who the fuck he got mixed up with, but it’s time we pay the pakhan a visit.”