21. Chapter 21
S ergey breathed dangerously fast and heavy, but I wasn’t finished with him.
“I know you remember the boy. Blond curls, big blue eyes, small. Misha personally trained him up until he was nine years old. Apparently, the boy was special to him because he left the training of the other poor kids up to his men while taking a personal interest in just him. And I’ve been informed that some of his men took him like you did, Sergey. I need names.”
There was no nodding of heads, so I reached over and cut off his other ear. His head lolled, and his eyes rolled back into his head, but I slapped him awake. “Not so tough when not faced with someone half your size.”
Sergey’s head fell forward as his nose filled with snot from weeping. Fucking pathetic. “Ready to talk yet? I sure hope so because I’d like to get my information before you die. Names. I know you all remember, especially with Kozlov’s special interest in the boy.”
When neither man answered, I sighed. Then again, I didn’t expect the Russians to comply, at least not right away.
There was no denying they were tough. Next went Sergey’s two pinkies.
Clean right off. Right through bone. It probably didn’t hurt as much as it looked with the clean cuts.
Perhaps I should’ve brought a rusty knife. Maybe I could find some salt.
I tossed the fingers onto his lap with his ears. “You’re going to run out of body parts. The more I cut off, the faster you bleed out. I could end this now.”
He hesitated, then nodded.
I pulled away the bandana from his mouth and pulled out the extra one he choked on. A trail of drool followed, landing on my hand, so I wiped it off on his jacket.
“Disgusting,” I mumbled.
“You… you’re the one who… killed that banker.”
“So, you do remember. And no, I wish I had killed him, but his son had that personal pleasure. He got his vengeance. Now, I need names.”
“Yes, we remember the boy. A tasty morsel. I took great pleasure in helping to break him… over and over and over, tearing him apart from the inside out. He cried and screamed, but no one cared.”
I growled and shoved the gun in his mouth. His eyes rolled up in his head as he gagged. “I know what you’re trying to do. But we’re way past giving you a quick death. Names.”
I pulled out the gun, and suddenly, he started screaming. I sighed and put a bullet in his head. Dammit. I looked up at the ceiling, and a few minutes later, I heard the slow creaking on the floor above us.
Here they come.
I aimed my gun with a bloodied hand and waited, facing the stairs.
They couldn’t have gathered any more men than the ones already here, so I waited for them to come down the stairs.
That didn’t mean they didn’t call for backup first before inspecting the cellar.
I couldn’t ignore the potential for more men by the time I was through getting my answers.
The door creaked open, but no one came down.
Probably waiting to see if there was a reaction to the noise.
I was patient. Soon, one man took a step, then another, and I waited until I had a clear view of his head.
I doubted they would have the information I needed, not being high enough in the mob food chain.
When he made his first step onto the concrete floor below with his gun raised in the dimly lit cellar, I put a bullet in his head. He dropped like a lead weight.
“Idiot.”
After a few minutes, I heard more footsteps above. This time, it was the bouncer outside the place who I also took out. It was time to speed things up. There would be more men coming, and the two men I just took out would be missed.
Now that Evgeniy was alone with no comrades, I hoped he would give me the answers I needed before I had to skedaddle.
He was pale, and he glared at me with cold blue eyes, but he was trying to hold on from his blood loss.
“I’ll give you the same choice I gave Sergey. A Quick death, or slow and painful. You’ve already seen my handiwork firsthand.”
When he didn’t answer right away, I stabbed him where I shot him, and sliced through his flesh. He screamed through the fabric and finally nodded.
Finally . The stench of blood was getting to me, and my stomach had turned to boiling acid.
“There’s no one left to call out to,” I reminded him as I removed his gag.
“I didn’t fuck the boy,” he said quickly with a thick Russian accent that was hard to understand.
“He didn’t point you out, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t.”
“Misha will kill you for this.”
I nodded. “Not if I get to him first.”
The Russian scoffed. “Your funeral. I only have three names. They were there the first day when the boy was being punished. He had to take all of them. One after the other.”
I clenched my jaw and tried not to shoot him right away. The surge of anger and rage that filled me made my blood boil. “Fucking why?”
“I have no say in the matter.”
Honestly, it was a wonder Luca lived through it all. His survival instinct must have been overwhelmingly strong. He could’ve easily given up.
“Names.”
His head dropped, knowing his life was soon at an end, so I pressed my phone close to him with the voice recorder on. I didn’t want to forget the names. “Damir Belov, Gregori Nikitin, and Pushkin Serov. I will die happy knowing you will hurt more than Sergey.”
I said nothing when I put the gun to his head and fired. He fell forward, but being bound to the chair kept him upright.
Blood covered me everywhere. It was on my pants, shirt, and jacket and crusted all over my hands. There was no time to clean up as I made my way upstairs, knowing that reinforcements were on the way or already here. I hadn’t expected things to go smoothly since I had encroached on their territory.
I put a fresh magazine into my gun and headed up the stairs slowly enough not to risk more danger, but fast enough to get the hell out of there. The door was already open from the two men who came down, and when I entered the kitchen, I found it empty of staff.
Fuck, that didn’t bode well.
With a deep breath, I focused on getting out alive and back to Luca. I’d been through worse and higher-risk jobs, so I could handle this as long as I kept my head.
There was no leaving in the front, so I inched my way through the kitchen, listening for anything out of place.
My instincts were on high alert, and my body was tense and ready to attack at the first sign of danger.
Despite my father being the abusive asshole he was, he trained me well.
To pay attention to every little nuance that was out of place.
All the while, he kept a tight collar around me.
It wasn’t a physical collar like Luca’s, but I felt it choke me nonetheless.
Shut up.
Shut out the noise about my father.
Focus.
The kitchen led straight toward a storage area, and I could see the exit sign beyond it. The red, glowing letters beckoned me to go, go, go and past the door to the alley and more danger, no doubt.
There were too many fucking areas to hide in the kitchen. Too many corners, cabinets, and small storage rooms. But I kept moving forward with my gun aimed at every shadow and perceived movement.
Where the fuck are you? I know you’re out there.
I’d worry about them tracking my movements on the cameras if Layla hadn’t breached their system. I was sure they had men stationed at every exit, so I was in for a fight, regardless.
The storage area before the exit was dark. I held my breath with my gun out, checking every nook and cranny as I entered. When I faced left, someone suddenly grabbed me from behind and put me into a chokehold.
“Boss wants a word,” he said in a thick Russian accent, breathing putrid Vodka breath on me.
A knife came out of nowhere and dug into my side. It went in so clean, it took my body a moment to register I had been stabbed, then the burning and stinging soon followed, along with warm wetness soaking through my shirt. “Do not move or fight me.”
Like hell.
I dropped, turning into a ragdoll to get his meaty arm off my throat.
The knife sliced up, but I escaped his hold.
I quickly turned and fired a round into his head.
Before I did anything else, another man jumped me from behind.
The force knocked the gun out of my hand as he tried to get me on the ground.
My body spun as I slammed him back against the wall while he clung to me, enjoying the sound of the wind being knocked out of him, so I did it again.
I grabbed his arms tightly and flipped him over me.
He landed hard on his back with an oof, and before I had a chance to kick him in the head, he grabbed my foot.
Now I was the one on my back, gasping for breath.
The big fucking Russian straddled me and punched me in the face.
I saw stars behind my eyes, but I wouldn’t let him slow me down.
With a quick thrust of my hips upward, it forced him forward so fast that he had to brace himself on the floor to keep from falling on his face.
I used the momentum to roll us over, and now I was on top.
I yanked out my knife, and before we could do anything else, I sliced his jugular. Blood squirted from his pumping heart and drenched me, but he died in seconds.
I stood on wobbly legs and shook off the pain in my face and side, ignoring the blood spilling out of me. If I didn’t get that stitched up soon, I’d bleed out.
After grabbing the extra bandanas from my pocket, I tried to stem the flow of blood.
Retrieving my gun from the floor, I double-checked I had a bullet in the chamber and scanned behind me before I opened the exit door, but I didn’t just burst open with guns blazing, not wanting to risk hitting innocent bystanders.
The door creaked open, and the glaring late afternoon sun nearly blinded me.
Before I stepped out, I let my eyes adjust and slowly worked my way outside.
Just before the door closed behind me, a Russian, leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette, stood at attention and swung his gun in my direction.
He never got a chance to fire a round when one of my bullets landed in the center of his forehead.
His eyes rolled up into his head as he collapsed dead on the ground.
Okay, not too bad. A couple of surprises I should’ve been ready for, but just three men. There were others, no doubt, but they were on the other side of the building and in the front. They’d be more careful outside due to the time of day and witnesses.
With another glance around to make sure I was in the clear, I slipped my gun back in its holster and pulled my black suit jacket tighter around me to hide most of the blood as I walked through alleys, keeping pressure on my side and remaining out of sight until I reached my car.
Fuck, I was going to get blood all over the damned thing.
Opening the trunk, I pulled out a blanket and draped it over the leather seat, then climbed in.
By the time I got my car started, I grew dizzy from the blood loss.
With a quick shake of my head, as if I could force the dizziness out of me, I took off and headed home.
My windows were highly tinted, so I didn’t worry about people seeing my bloody mess as I drove, swerving in and out of traffic.
But I double-checked to make sure I wasn’t followed.
It wouldn’t take me long to get home, but it needed to happen soon.
Once I got my wound cleaned, I would stitch it myself with my suture kit, then I’d be out of danger.
When I hit Georgetown, and before I reached Key Bridge, I opened my glovebox and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and my lighter.
Tapping the pack on the back of my bloody hand resting on the steering wheel, a cigarette slipped out.
I popped it in my mouth and tossed the pack onto the passenger seat.
Once it was lit with a trembling hand, I cracked the window and took a long drag.
The hit of nicotine didn’t help with my dizziness, but I pushed on toward home.
Home to Luca.
This was all for him.