51. Arsen
51
ARSEN
The moment I step into the street in front of Nonna Guilia’s, I catch sight of him. Jasper’s bone-thin limbs are folded at harsh angles as he leans against the wall of the ugly building next door. He sets his eyes on me and pushes off the wall.
As the distance between us closes, his hand twitches towards the gun I know he’s concealing. Mine sits a little heavier against my hip.
If I knew Laila would make it out of this safely, I’d kill him where he stands without a moment’s hesitation.
“You don’t look surprised to see me, brother,” he calls ahead.
Maybe because his grand plan to get me here was about as subtle as the signs that he’s using again. His face is hollow and his eyes dart around, tracking something only he can see.
“I’m rarely caught unprepared, Jasper,” I say back. “You should know that by now.”
He scowls. “I’m guessing your lackeys are hiding somewhere close by?”
“I came alone. I figured that’s what you would want.”
“Aren’t you clever?”
“Wish I could return the compliment.”
He ignores me, scratching his wrist like he’s trying to dig right through the skin. “I just wish I trusted you.”
“I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me.”
“Call your men and order them to stand back,” he snaps. “I want to hear you give the command.”
I eye him coldly. “Are you scared?”
“I’d be a fool not to be. You have the manpower and the resources to wipe me out of existence. I have only my wits.”
“So not much, then?”
“Call them off or your pretty little wife won’t be so pretty anymore.”
I lunge towards him, barely holding myself back at the last second. “If you touch her, I’ll rip your hands off at the wrists and beat you with them. I’ll?—”
“ I’ll send the signal to my man to pull the trigger if you don’t back the fuck up,” he hisses. “If I were you, I wouldn’t threaten the man who controls whether your woman lives or dies.”
“Laila has nothing to do with any of this.”
“I disagree. She has sins of her own to pay for.”
God, he even sounds like Charles. I shake my head in disgust. “What the fuck were you thinking, Jas? You’ve made a lot of mistakes, but aligning yourself with Charles Barnes? The man is a rodent.”
Jasper’s eyes flare, and I’ve surprised him. He didn’t know I knew about his little friend.
“Like I said,” I continue, “I’m rarely unprepared.”
He rallies quickly, schooling his face into a sneer. “And yet you’re here, standing alone on the side of the street at my mercy. What does that say about you?”
“That I trust too freely. And that I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”
His hands are shaking. “Make the call. And put it on speaker.”
With a sigh, I dial Dominik’s number and transfer it to speakerphone.
“Arsen? What’s going on?”
“Keep a wide berth from Nonna Guilia’s,” I inform him robotically. “No one comes near the restaurant.”
“That goes for the Italian’s goons, too!” Jasper adds.
“Arsen—”
“Just do it, Dom,” I snap. “Laila’s life hangs in the balance.”
There’s a grudging pause. “Fine. I’ll clear the area.”
As soon as Dom hangs up, Jasper holds out his hand for my phone. “I’ll take that.”
I don’t bother denying him. I hand it over, and he waves for me to follow him. “This way.”
I’m expecting a waiting car, but he struts down the alley behind the restaurant, stopping at a rusted door that leads into the adjacent building.
“No weapons beyond this point.” He reaches out a hand, waiting for me to give him the gun at my hip. When I do, he cocks a brow. “And the other one.”
Rolling my eyes, I pull out my second gun and offer it to him. I feel naked without my weaponry.
“Anything else you’re hiding?”
“You’re welcome to pat me down.” I hold out my hands, daring him to lay a finger on me.
He seems to realize I’d snap every bone in his body if he tried, so he studies me for a few more seconds before I’m allowed into the building.
Immediately, I spot Laila. It’s a scene from a horror movie. She’s crouched on the filthy floor, bleeding from a cut on her forehead. Her lip is split and there’s a purple bruise blooming on her cheek.
“You mother fuck ?—”
I’m halfway to Jasper, hands reaching for his throat, when I feel the barrel of a gun pressed to my spine. “Take another step and I’ll pull the trigger.”
“No, Dad!” Laila screams.
I turn slowly, looking past the gun now aimed at my face and into Charles’s dead eyes. “What kind of man takes his own daughter hostage?”
“What kind of man makes a pauper out of his father-in-law?” he challenges.
“The kind who wants to protect his family.”
“Jesus, you people have a lot of baggage,” Jasper complains as he ambles his way over to Laila. “I’m really not about family drama.”
Casually, he points my fucking gun at my wife’s head.
I have no idea if he’s trying to goad me or if he actually intends to pull the trigger. All I know is that gun might as well be pointed at me.
“Don’t.” My voice is somewhere between an order and a plea. I’m desperate, and I don’t mind if he knows it.
“You’re in no position to bargain with me. In fact, I suggest you do exactly what we ask, or else—” Jasper squats down and grabs a fistful of Laila’s hair. “—things are going to go very badly for your pretty little lamb.”
“Don’t fucking touch her, you?—”
I want to go to her, but Charles presses his gun to my temple. “Tsk-tsk. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“No!” Laila screams again. She seems completely oblivious to the fact that there’s a gun trained on her, too. “Please, just… just let him go. Your fight is with me.”
“Of course you think that, girl. Everything is always about you, isn’t it?” Charles chuckles. “Jasper, I think we should wrap this up now.”
Jasper nods. “You wanna go first?”
Charles smacks his lips as though he’s about to sit down to a feast. “I want fifty million transferred to my personal bank account immediately.”
I have to bite back a laugh as I lean around the gun he’s aiming between my eyes. “You really are nuts. Even I don’t have that much liquid cash waiting to be transferred.”
Jasper rolls his eyes. “Told you.”
“How much can you transfer then?” Charles’s voice hitches, betraying his panic.
“Ten. At most.”
He turns an ugly shade of pink. “I want forty, at least.”
“That kind of fund transfer requires time, you idiot,” I say. “It can’t be done at the snap of my fingers.”
Charles turns to Jasper, a silent conversation passing between them. “We can wait.”
“The fuck we can!” Jasper bounds to his feet, his gun finally aimed away from Laila. I feel like I can breathe again. “I want this over today, Charles. I’m not waiting any longer.”
Laila’s hands are tied behind her back, and she’s shifting around on the floor behind him. There are dried tear tracks staining her cheeks, but her eyes are focused. Sharp. I’d be willing to bet the absurd amount of money Charles wants that she’s managed to loosen her restraints.
That’s my girl.
“Just another couple of days,” Charles insists in a whisper. “It won’t kill us.”
“It absolutely will. Remember who we’re dealing with,” Jasper snarls, looking at me with narrowed eyes. “He’ll have the entire might of the Adamov Bratva on us if we prolong this. We can’t give them time to rally.”
“I need that money!” Charles screeches.
“Ten million is enough!”
My eyes meet Laila’s over their bickering. We have a silent conversation of our own. But unlike our captors, we are on the same page.
We can make use of their distraction .
Her brows pinch together as she nods gently. Just be careful .
“Ten million won’t last me long,” Charles argues. “And it’s not like I can come back here. I need to make sure?—”
Jasper grabs Charles by the collar. “Stop being a greedy bastard and cut your losses. We delay any longer and we’re dead men walking.”
Charles’s gun is also pointed at the floor now, and I use the fact I’m no longer at the wrong end of a gun to slide even closer to Laila. I’m halfway across the room when Jasper roars, “Stop!”
He uses his partner in crime like a battering ram, shoving Charles at me. But the old man stumbles over his own feet and falls. His head cracks against the concrete, and he loses his grip on his gun. It slides across the floor and into a corner—too far for me or Laila to make use of, but one unhinged man has been disarmed and that’s a positive.
Charles curses as Jasper digs in his waistband for my other gun, which he immediately points at me.
“Don’t fucking move. And you,” he snarls at Charles, who’s still whimpering on the floor, unarmed, “need to get a fucking grip. Eyes on the prize.”
“I wanted fifty million!” Charles cries.
It’s becoming more and more clear that neither of them has thought this extortion scenario through to its conclusion. The plan has barely begun and it’s already falling apart.
Suddenly, I feel a little more confident.
I move toward Jasper while he’s busy yelling at the human pus boil he’s chosen to ally himself with. If I can get just another foot closer…
“Listen, I’m an old man?—”
“Exactly! What the fuck do you need fifty million for? That’s more than you could even spend in your lifetime.”
“That’s rich, coming from the son of a bitch who just shot himself up with two thousand dollars’ worth of meth! You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me! I’m the one who came up with this idea in the first place.”
Jasper’s eyes are bulging—from anger or the force of the drugs in his system, I can’t tell. “You son of a?—”
“Watch out!” Charles yells at the last second.
But it’s too late.
I launch myself at Jasper, tackling him around the stomach. One of his guns fires close enough to my head that my ears ring, but it’s a wild shot. He misses.
I wrench one gun from Jasper’s trembling hands. It takes almost nothing to overpower him. His eyes clear and, for one moment, he’s my old friend again.
He’s handing me a contraband cigarette in the yard.
He’s patching me up after I was jumped in the showers, swearing we’ll get our revenge.
For one last second, he’s my brother, and I don’t want to do this.
Then I remember everything he’s done.
So I press the muzzle to his chest and pull the trigger.
Jasper goes limp. The wild eyes I stopped recognizing a long time ago glaze over as the life drains from his face.
And then… he’s gone.
I’m breathing heavily, trying to control the tumult of grief and relief coursing through me. It’s finally over.
Jasper is dead.
There isn’t time to process his death, though. There’s one more scumbag I have to take care of. But when I turn around, Charles isn’t on the floor.
Now, he’s standing behind my wife, one arm wrapped around her chest, and a gun pressed to her temple.
“Either I leave here with my money or my daughter,” he breathes raggedly. “Your choice.”