Give Me What You Won’t #2
His father, the genius that he was, often had multiple ways out of a building, just in case authorities descended on them.
He often built bunkers like these with an escape hatch or room.
His gaze followed the pattern of the ceiling, then down to the metal cabinet, and found the hidden seamline in the bland wallpaper.
Thaddeus, smirking, glanced around the steel cabinet and saw the latch behind it, and flicked it.
The metal cabinet clicked, unlocking. He easily moved it, revealing a door with a built-in security pad.
His dad had used the same code his entire life, and Thaddeus keyed in his brother’s birth date.
The door unlocked, revealing a safe room.
The lights automatically flickered on. It smelled dusty and slightly decayed from years of unuse, but it had everything a panic room needed.
Medical supplies, military food packs, bottled water, a cot, guns, and a security feed directly into the warehouse.
I miss you, Dad, you paranoid bastard.
More gunfire.
Shouting and then silence.
He quickly closed the safe room, returning the metal cabinet to conceal it.
Thaddeus turned at the sound of the office door being swung open.
Bob entered, pushing forward the man in black, who was much larger than Thaddeus had anticipated.
He was the same height as himself, over six feet tall.
His build, however, was broader, fuller.
His chest was heavily muscled, and his thighs were thick enough to squash a watermelon between them.
The vigilante wore black military boots, black cargo pants, a belt, and a long-sleeved black shirt that tightly curved the contours of his body like the finest silk.
The mask tonight was different from the ones he’d worn previously.
The mask covered his entire head except for his eyes and the brim of his nose, and a painted black skull stared back at him.
And… he was bleeding. Thaddeus saw the blood wetting his upper thigh beneath his black cargo pants.
Bob reached for the mask, about to yank it off, when he raised his hand, stopping him. “That won’t be necessary.”
Bob hesitated, and Thaddeus indicated to one of the metal chairs in the room.
Bob lowered the man in black into the chair.
Bob used thick black zip ties to secure the man’s hands together, and Thaddeus didn’t protest, having watched countless hours of video footage of this man and knowing perfectly well how those hands moved.
This man in black was a fighter, maybe even a professional, and he had no interest in being on the receiving end.
“Thank you, Bob,” he said smoothly, and Bob arched an eyebrow at him, knowing it was a dismissal to leave but hesitating. Thaddeus leaned against the metal cabinets, waiting, trying not to show his displeasure at being questioned.
One day, my authority will be respected.
One fucking day.
He inwardly sighed, and Bob left.
The two men stared at one another, both assessing and judging. He was struck by how calm this man seemed despite being wounded, caught, and now held captive. The only exposed feature of his face was his eyes, which was the shade of the finest whiskey, creamy and gold, as if warmed by sunlight.
“Normally, I’d offer you a drink, but unfortunately for us, we’re in a bit of a… well,” he gestured with a shrug to the sparse conditions. “I was enjoying a rather expensive whiskey this evening until you showed up again. It was a similar color to your eyes, as a matter of fact.”
The man in black’s stoic silence only intensified between them.
“Do you know who I am?” Thaddeus asked.
The man in black continued to stare. His hands, almost overly large compared to the rest of his body, sat between his legs, restrained.
And yet somehow, he knew he could probably break the plastic and kill him if he so wished.
But he hadn’t, which was smart, considering Bob was right outside the door.
“My name is Thaddeus Kozlov,” he said simply. “And you’re currently sitting in my uncle’s warehouse. But I’m sure you already knew that part.”
The man in black’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and he leaned back in his seat, legs splayed, uncaring of his bleeding thigh.
For some reason, heat tingled up his spine.
He hummed, curious by his physical reaction to this man.
He blamed it partially on spending too many hours watching him on the security footage.
This man wasn’t a killer.
Just a saboteur.
He released a tight breath, unfolding the only other chair in the room and placing it across from the vigilante.
He unbuttoned his wool suit jacket and took a seat, leveling a firm gaze at him.
“I’m sure you can understand that you won’t be breathing anymore once you step outside this office.
Which shouldn’t be any surprise, considering you knew exactly whose warehouse this was when you infiltrated it. ”
The man in black, for the first time, showed a slight reaction. His head hitched to the side and he seemed—amused.
Fascinating, he thought, this was not the typical reaction he was accustomed to: begging, pleading, snot bubbling, and eventually negotiating. Amusement and silence were certainly a strategy, he supposed.
“This last month has been difficult due to the unfortunate financial losses you’ve incurred for us. That alone has gotten you the attention of Kirill Kozlov, himself.”
The man in black stirred, looking… pleased?
Thaddeus suddenly wished for his cigar or a drink.
He’d lost track of the death threats and people wanting to kill his uncle.
It was a common occurrence in their line of work.
But this was different. The man in black was intent on hurting the business, which ultimately hurt Kirill.
And Kirill had been downright murderous over this single man.
In fact, he’d never seen his uncle so riled as he was during their afternoon meeting.
If the man in black was on the Kyross list, his uncle would certainly attend.
The thought made Thaddeus still, mind whirling.
He leaned forward, pushing his glasses smoothly up the brim of his nose. “I’m not an expert on mask reading, but from your reaction, I would have to guess you want my uncle’s attention.”
“Do I?” the man in black finally spoke, an accent in his tone that was southern and slow.
“Awe, he speaks,” Thaddeus remarked coolly.
The man in black shifted as though attempting to draw away.
Thaddeus hummed. “What do you want with my uncle?”
“His death.”
He released a breath.
Don’t we all?
Kirill Kozlov was a psychopath in its highest, most malignant form.
And men like him either never suffered the consequences of their crimes, or when finally captured or killed, never cared about them in the first place.
Should his uncle face justice, true justice, and be imprisoned, he would never disclose where any of the bodies were buried. He would die with his secrets.
That’s why I’m here.
That’s why he’s here.
“So, what did my dear uncle do to you?” Thaddeus said indifferently. “Kill your puppy, John Wick?”
The man in black smiled beneath his hood, the lines around his eyes crinkling from what little he could see. “What did he do to you, joli diable? Take away the Benz?”
His gaze sharpened, recognizing the telling Cajun accent mixed with a Southern drawl.
“I wasn’t aware we did business down in the bayou,” he taunted back.
The man in the mask cocked his head and then, unexpectedly, he drew his arms up and slammed them down over his thighs, letting out a grunt of pain as he snapped the plastic zip ties.
Shit.
The man in black didn’t even leave his chair as his right leg front-kicked Thaddeus hard in the knee, sending him toppling backward.
He rolled onto his side, the chair clattering behind him, and heard the office door click, the man in black locking them in.
Thaddeus got to his feet, straightening his jacket, feeling the weight of his gun still secure in his waistband as the man in black grabbed his metal chair and hurled it at the fogged pane glass windows.
He could use his gun and stop him. But there really wasn’t any point. They were locked in here with no way out.
His mind seized those words and thought again about Kyross.
He could use this man.
The man in black wanted Kirill dead, and he wanted the same thing.
The office door rattled as Bob tried to get inside.
Before he could do anything, the man in black whirled on him and, with his gloved hands, flung the chair at Thaddeus. He ducked just in time, the chair slamming against the far wall as the man in black, now unarmed except for his fists, stood before him, chest heaving.
Fuck.
The door to the office rattled, and he knew Bob was seconds away from blasting it open.
The man in black swung, and Thaddeus, from his years of military service, knew how to at least do the bare minimum in a fight.
Granted, his skill set was less hand-to-hand combat and more gun-based.
Every gun imaginable, in fact. Once a weapon was in his hands that could shoot, he’d make the shot, without fail, every time.
But he didn’t want to kill the man in black.
He needed him.
So, here we go, he thought pensively as the man swung his fist. Thaddeus blocked, bracing his arm against him and pushing back on his heel.
The man in black was much faster, countering his block with a strong uppercut into his stomach, causing Thaddeus to jerk against his fist and curse through gritted teeth.
He attempted to rear upward, but the man in black caught the back of his neck, fingers digging into his muscle and hair, wrenching him upward and… smiling down at him.
“That all you got, Kozlov?” the man in black taunted.
Well, well. Fuck you.