Chapter 30 #5
“Alexei, follow us in the car.” Burt gives me a long look. I see my own death in those eyes. He’s considering it. Bohnes would get him after. I’d be avenged. Still dead though. “Scarlett will stay with me.”
“Got anything to drink in here?” I ask, giving Alexei a sharp look. Don’t protest, I warn him.
We lock eyes.
I tap my thumb against our wedding ring. Alexei closes his eyes for a beat too long, flicking them open and meticulously removing himself from the car before it’s too late.
Burt is on edge with us. One wrong move and we’re in trouble.
“Anything to drink, huh? You aren’t scared of me, are you?” Burt hands a cigar to me, opening his jacket and passing over a flask next. I partake of both without complaint. “You think we picked you up to entertain you, Miss Force?”
“Mrs. Borisov,” I correct him, swallowing the disgust of that down with the lie.
I’m not going by that name, but if it’s a weapon in this car, then I’ll use it.
“Look, Alexei is a good boy, but he’s not a little bitch.
He saw his father get murdered and he did what anyone would do.
He hired the best man in the city to help him figure it out.
We’ve done that, and we’ve brought Pavel’s killer to you.
What’s the next step? The last thing we want to do is insult the family. ”
I lean back in the seat, crossing my arms over the front of my leather jacket. Wish I had a tommy gun or something. Then I’d feel like a real twenties mobster.
Burt watches the execution video several more times, and my eyes slide over to it. Watching someone you love die like that, it’s how I feel about Lemon. Alexis, too. I understand Alexei completely. Witnessing a scene of pure hatred and violence, it changes you permanently.
“You have one of the Kelly boys, too.” Burt takes both the flask and the cigar back from me, tucking the former in his coat and taking a drag on the other. The atmosphere inside the car is smoky. The closest to death I have ever come—even in the river. “Why?”
“We have a complicated relationship, me and Alexei.” I shrug loosely, trying to stay honest but without giving anything away. Burt is not amused, and he doesn’t speak to me again for the rest of the drive.
We pull up in front of the abandoned Borisov mansion where Pavel’s murder happened.
Uh-oh.
The L88 is right behind us.
Alexei opens his door before our driver’s even shifted to park.
He’s in a hurry to get back to me, but he doesn’t show it.
His performance is flawless, relaxed, almost lazy.
Today, he isn’t Pavel’s grieving son, he’s the nephew of a mob boss.
Just a part of the family. Nothing to worry about here, just a little misunderstanding.
The young Borisov forges forward proudly, opening my door and offering a gallant hand to help me from the car.
“Get the chief,” Burt instructs, and his driver—dude is terrifying for real—makes his way to the trunk, dragging the bound and gagged Ernest Bolin out.
The police chief is conscious for this, eyes rolling in terror as he’s carried across the yard like a sack.
He’s bloody and bruised and scabbed, gruesome and disheveled.
Still alive and awake to experience this fresh hell.
Burt follows his goon and we go with him. I can sense men in the woods around us. Can see them in the house windows, moving around. We’re not alone here. Can Bohnes really move undetected in an environment like this? Suppose we’ll find out.
The goon tosses Ernest to the ground beside the back deck. Burt, meanwhile, invites us to come sit at an outdoor table with him. Continues to smoke that same cigar.
“You try to interrogate him yourselves?” he asks, and Alexei nods, resting his hands flat against the table.
“In search of his informant’s identity.” Alexei offers a labored sigh.
He doesn’t have to fake his frustration.
If we had that name, we’d be in a better standing today.
“Needles under the fingernails. A procedure to remove his testicles. Nothing worked. We thought it better to stop before he was too far gone.” Alexei keeps his gaze steady on Burt, but I’m more focused on Ernest and the bucket the goon has just brought over. Metal.
Huh.
“Hmm. Anything else?” Burt continues, the cherry of his cigar crackling in the dark.
“I wanted to know where Papa’s body was,” Alexei says softly, almost pleadingly. “I wanted to know why. What did he do that he deserved to be murdered in his own home?”
“Your father was late on his tithes, Alexei,” Burt says calmly, staring right at his…
distant Borisov relative? They do have some physical similarities, but I have no idea who this guy really is.
Maybe he’s just an underling? Alexei will have to tell me later.
Obviously the name Burt Cramer is bullshit.
“He owes us money. He tell you about that?”
“He…did not.” Alexei appears perplexed. “Perhaps that’s what he was concerned about at the end there?
Locking himself in his office. Refusing to let me see what he was working on.
He’d cut off all my funds. I thought it was because of the fight…
or the grades…” Alexei puts his hand up to his forehead.
“Jonas Kelly and Chet Archer, they’re the ones that have his money now.
Maybe they’ve had it for longer than we thought? Papa would never miss his tithes.”
“Sir?” the goon asks and Burt cants his attention lazily in that direction.
“Go ahead,” is his reply, lifting his cigar in confirmation for something.
The goon then grabs a small wire cage from the ground near the deck steps, moving it over to the bucket.
He opens the cage’s front door, grabbing what appears to be a tame pet store rat.
He puts the rat on Ernest’s chest and then lays the bucket over the top.
The goon tears the tape from Ernest’s mouth and the pleading starts.
“Please! I haven’t done anything more than I’ve been ordered. It’s Jonas! It’s Chet!” He’s sobbing and screaming. The goon kicks him in the face and he goes silent, whimpering. Burt makes his way over, murmuring in low tones to Ernest. I can’t quite hear what he’s saying.
“Is he questioning him?” I whisper and Alexei gives a light shake of his head.
“I have no idea.”
Another long pause, Ernest screaming. Burt stands up and nods at his goon once more.
The man applies a blowtorch to the top of the bucket and my stomach swoops into my throat.
No. Oh God. Holy shit. Ernest begins to shriek, the sound echoing through the vastness of the property.
Hundreds of acres of forest, purchased as a quiet retreat on the edge of town.
Nobody around to hear him, just like Bohnes said.
The bucket is heated and the rat on the inside…is burrowing…trying to get out…
I watch Burt as he takes a seat on the opposite side of the table. I’m sweating profusely as Ernest’s agonizing screams puncture my earlobes and worm their way into my brain. Who the fuck would want to live this sort of life willingly? It’s hell.
“Talk to me about Ash Kelly,” Burt continues, turning to look at Alexei. My husband maintains his dignity, meeting the man’s eyes with his own. “Somebody burned the mayor’s house down and stole his last remaining son.”
“Yes, well. Aspen Kelly, the mayor’s sidekick, is the twin that passed away. This is the other one and…he’s my lover.” Alexei manages to keep his chin up. Manages to keep looking proud. I’m nervous about this. They have zero sexual chemistry. I’m wondering if Burt is going to buy this lie.
“Oh yeah?” Burt continues to smoke his cigar as Ernest’s screams become pained gurgles.
I resist the urge to look at him. I concentrate on the man in front of me, trying to anticipate his next move.
“Bring him here. Let’s see it.” Burt’s flat lips turn up into a wicked smile.
“I’d love to meet him. Phrased another way, you’re not leaving until he comes.
I won’t kill him, if that’s what you’re worried about.
Not if you have answers that satisfy me. ”
“If you have questions, ask them,” Alexei instructs, growing indignant. “This sort of thing is a man’s private life. I shouldn’t have to share him with you if I don’t wish to.”
Whoa. Interesting to hear Alexei defend Ash on my behalf. Not sure how Burt is going to react.
“I want to see your love for myself.” Burt’s face falls again, blurring into the thick apathy of neutrality.
He doesn’t care whether we live or die, but he’ll make that decision based on the outcome of this meeting.
“Bring the man here and have him prove his loyalty. I want to see him suck Borisov dick.”
My head whips from Alexei to Burt, and I feel my anger rear its ugly head.
“Excuse me, you fucking pervert. Can definitely tell you’re from Hollywood now.
My boys ain’t sucking dicks or doing anything else for an audience.
Our arrangement is none of your business.
” I’ve got an annoyed clip to my voice that’s maybe a tad too arrogant for the time and place.
A man is literally being torn apart by a rat.
Executed by the mob, just like that. No fanfare or pomp. We could leave this world the same way.
“I will not sully myself in front of for-hire security because you fancy your own nephew,” Alexei declares pompously, inadvertently answering some of my questions.
He said his uncle was the Boss. That can’t be Burt, right?
Holy fuck. “I’ve given you the recording.
Offered up the perpetrator. I will recover Papa’s fortune and pay our tithes. ”
“Plus an extra twenty-five percent in late fees.” Burt points at Alexei with the cigar, like an elder scolding a child.
“If you want to keep Ash Kelly alive, you’ll add ten-percent per month, and you’ll make your first payment by New Year’s.
Bring him here now.” Burt sits back in his chair and gives us a shared look.
“Or we can go find him ourselves. Your choice.”
I slide my phone from my pocket, and I call Widow.