11. Nikolai
NIKOLAI
We moved up the alley single file with our backs to the brick and our weapons drawn. Yakov led, then me, then Tyren, with Vlad bringing up the rear after circling around the block to check the back entrance.
The street was quiet for a Tuesday night, which was either lucky or a sign that people in the neighborhood already knew something had gone wrong at the Pick-a-Sack and were keeping their heads down.
Vlad's call had come in forty minutes ago. Markin's men had walked into my store on Fourteenth Street and taken it, just like that.
Two of my guys who were running the night shift hadn't answered their phones since, and the owner, Deshi, a man who'd been loyal to me for eight years, was unaccounted for.
The store was the anchor of my eastern territory. Losing it meant losing the block, and losing the block meant Markin could push all the way to the bridge without anyone in his way.
Yakov held up a fist and we stopped. He was crouched at the mouth of the alley where it opened onto the sidewalk, and from his position he had a clear angle on the store's front window.
I moved up beside him and looked over his shoulder, not knowing what to expect, but from what I could tell, things looked pretty normal.
The fluorescent sign above the door was still on and I could see straight through the front windows where two of Markin's men stood near the register.
One leaned against the counter with his arms crossed and the other paced lazily between the aisles like he was browsing. They were relaxed, talking casually, and they had no clue what hell was coming for them when I got in there.
But from where I stood I could see Deshi behind the counter on the floor with his hands bound behind his back and a rag stuffed in his mouth. His eyes were wide and frantic, darting toward the door every few seconds like he was waiting for someone to come.
Behind him, near the back of the store, I could make out two shapes on the floor that weren't moving. I figured they were my guys, but I couldn't tell if they were breathing.
"I count two up front," Yakov said quietly. "At least two more near the coolers in the back. Vlad said there's more posted at the rear exit."
That meant at least five against four, which wasn't great given they had a hostage, but it wasn't impossible if we hit them from multiple angles and didn't give them time to organize.
"Vlad, take the back," I said. "You handle the men at the rear door quietly and push in." Then I turned over my shoulder, and said, "Tyren, you're with me through the front. Yakov, give us thirty seconds and then come through the side window. We hit them from three directions at once."
"And if there's more than five?" Yakov asked.
He wasn't wrong to point out a weakness we might have, but we didn’t have time to think in worst-case scenarios.
We had to get into that store and take it back before Markin's men got comfortable believing they'd taken another block.
I was done being patient, hoping he'd use some sense.
I didn't care if someone called the police. I had to take back what was mine.
"Then we deal with it."
Yakov checked his magazine and slid up the side of the building out of the view of the lights, while Tyren moved up beside me. He was calm but his eyes were wide and observant.
Still, of all my lower-level men, Tyren was the one I'd promote first if I needed a trusty hand. The adrenaline didn't rattle him. It just made him sharper.
Vlad disappeared down the alley as Yakov positioned himself near a side window that was propped open a few inches for ventilation. Tyren and I crossed the street and hugged the storefronts, moving quickly from doorway to doorway until we were right beside the entrance.
I counted to thirty in my head. Then I kicked the door in.
It swung wide and cracked against the magazine rack, and both men at the register turned at the same time.
The one leaning on the counter grabbed for his waistband, but I put two rounds in his chest before his fingers touched the grip.
He fell backward into the cigarette display and slid down the wall, scattering packs across the floor as blood spatter ran down the shelving.
Deshi screamed through the gag and curled into the fetal position, mumbling something incoherent and rocking back and forth. I looked past him to the second man, who was faster.
He cleared his weapon and fired twice, and I heard the rounds snap past my ear as I ducked behind an aisle endcap.
Tyren returned fire from the doorway and caught him in the shoulder, spinning him into the aisle, but the man didn't drop. He stumbled and kept shooting, punching holes through the shelving and blowing cans and bottles apart in every direction.
Glass shattered on the far side of the store and I knew that was Yakov coming through the side window.
Two rapid shots cracked from the back of the store in quick succession, and everything collapsed into chaos after that.
I came around the endcap and fired at the wounded man in the aisle. He'd dropped to one knee and was trying to steady his gun with his good arm, but I hit him twice in the torso and he folded over onto the tile and went still.
Behind me, Tyren pushed deeper into the store, sweeping right toward the coolers where two more of Markin's men were scrambling for cover behind a bottled water display.
One of them popped up and fired a burst from an automatic rifle that stitched across the ceiling and peppered the wall toward Tyren.
I heard him return fire with three shots that punched through the plastic bottles and sprayed water across the floor in every direction.
The man behind the display stumbled backward and Tyren came around the side and put him down with two more to the chest.
Then the last one broke for the back door, sprinting down the center aisle, and I tracked him and squeezed off a round. But he ducked behind the beer cooler and I missed.
Vlad shouted from the back, "He's coming your way!" and then Yakov stepped out from behind a shelving unit and cracked the runner across the face with the butt of his pistol.
The man's legs went sideways and he hit the wet floor hard, sliding through broken glass and pooling water until Yakov kicked his gun away and put a boot on his wrist.
For a second, I thought it was done.
The store was destroyed. Shell casings and broken glass and water covered every inch of the floor.
The shelves were shredded and Deshi was still alive behind the counter, his eyes wild above the gag, breathing hard through his nose.
I started toward him to cut him loose.
Then the back door burst open and another man came in already firing, and shit hit the fan.
He was covered in blood and looked like a crazed lunatic, but he caught us off guard. His first round went wide and blew out a section of the front window. His second hit Tyren in the neck.
Tyren stumbled several feet and collapsed over the checkout counter as blood pumped from his throat in thick surges. "Tyren!" I shouted as I darted toward him without thinking, and that was my mistake.
Before Vlad or Yakov could make him, the shooter adjusted his aim and fired at me. I felt the round hit my left side like someone had driven a hot crowbar into my ribs.
The impact spun me into the shelving unit and I dropped to my knees, and for a second the whole store went white and silent except for a high-pitched ringing that swallowed everything.
Yakov killed the shooter. I didn't see it, but I heard the single round and then the heavy sound of a body dropping. Then he was beside me with his hand on my shoulder, pulling my jacket open to get a look at the wound.
"You're hit, Boss. Let me see it."
"Get to Tyren," I said, and my voice sounded like it was coming from far away, not from my own mouth. It must've been bad, or maybe the pain and shock were a natural reflex after so much adrenaline in my system.
But Vlad was already with Tyren, on his knees, pressing both hands against the man's neck, but there was too much blood and Tyren wasn't moving. His eyes were pointed at the ceiling blankly, and Vlad's head hung.
The pain in my side radiated outward until my whole left side felt like it was on fire. I pressed my hand against the wound and felt blood soaking through my shirt and into my waistband.
It hurt enough to make my vision swim, but I could still breathe without gasping for air which meant it missed my lung.
"We need to move," Yakov said. "We have about ninety seconds before the cops get here…." He got his arm under mine and pulled me to my feet.
I swayed a few steps before Yakov got my arm over his shoulder to help me, but I couldn’t just leave my men like that.
Three of them were dead and Deshi was still tied up. I protested Yakov's movement to the door as I started barking orders.
"Cut Deshi loose," I told Vlad before Yakov managed to manhandle me out the front of the store.
With that much gunfire, it was no wonder I heard sirens wailing up the street.
Onlookers gawked at us as we pushed through a gathering crowd, and Vlad caught up in the alley, sliding in under my other arm.
The three of us moved as fast as I could manage, which wasn't fast at all.
Every step drove a spike through my left side and by the time we reached the car, my shirt was soaked through and a chill had started settling into my hands and feet.
Shock was setting in due to too much adrenaline and the blood loss.
"Get the doc," I grumbled, fishing in my pocket for my phone, but Vlad beat me to it. He pulled it out and climbed in beside me as Yakov rounded the car to get in the front. My vision faded in and out as I watched Vlad type in a text message, but I didn't see what it said. Then he turned to me.
"Looks like a through and through, Boss, but you're gonna need stitches." Vlad held pressure on the wound, but the elephant in the room had us all quieter than normal after something like that. Markin was going to pay for his men taking Tyren out.
When my phone buzzed, Vlad looked down at it and scowled. I managed to pry my eyes open enough to see the number and knew immediately who it was.
"Answer it," I grumbled, letting my eyes shut as Vlad swiped to answer and turned it on speaker phone.
"Dragonov…" Markin's voice made fresh rage surge through my veins, which I knew probably wasn't a good thing given how badly I was already bleeding. "I hear you've had quite an evening."
"You're gonna regret this, you sick bastard."
"Am I?" He chuckled at me and continued. "A few inches to the left and this whole war would already be finished, Nikolai… No more Dragonov territory to worry about. It would all be mine." His nasty comment gave me chills. He'd been watching the whole fucking thing.
My jaw was locked so tight, I could feel my molars grinding. I breathed through my gritted teeth, focusing on not losing consciousness. The pain was incredible.
"Think about that while someone stitches you up tonight," he said. "And think about what happens next time, when my guys don't miss."
I didn't know if the line went dead or if I lost consciousness, but his voice was suddenly gone, and I felt cold.
Markin was going to pay for all of this.
Tonight was only the first step.
First news of my marriage would be spread everywhere, forcing his allies to back out, and then little by little, I would eat away at everything he had, and I wouldn’t stop until I consumed him.