26. Alex
ALEX
Iknew it was him from the moment he sat down.
Kostya and I agreed to keep things simple with this setup, only the three of us taking positions in the park versus every brigadier and boevik under my command.
Slavik is an experienced Pakhan. He’d see a flock of his enemies surrounding him a mile away.
But one or two of us could fly under the radar.
Rikki was positioned at one end of the lane near the entrance, shadowing him as he walked toward Nona.
I was at the other end, watching from my place at a park bench around fifteen or so yards away.
And Kostya was hidden in the rocks behind us, camouflaged, his sniper rifle at the ready.
And in the moment that Slavik sat down, I immediately wondered what was taking Kostya so long. The shot was wide open.
Now I understand.
I saw him grab her arm and I went to stand. That’s when I felt the gun in my back.
“Don’t move a muscle,” the hard voice in Russian said behind me.
Now I’m glancing around myself. At least twelve of his guys are in different spots all over the park. Fuck me for being so focused on Nona that I didn’t notice them.
“You don’t want to do this,” I tell the guy with the gun in my back.
“It’s nothing personal,” he says. “This is just business. You under—”
Slavik grabs Nona and yanks her to her feet. Shit.
Kostya takes his shot, but it hits him in the shoulder. I see the poof of the silent gunshot go off in his coat, then Slavik stumbles back in surprise.
The guy with the gun in my back is surprised, too. I feel him take a half-step back. I whirl around and grab his arm, pulling it forward while I slam my elbow into his face. His nose crunches under the impact and blood sprays from his face. He stumbles and falls backward, dropping his gun.
I dart away, running for Nona as she struggles to get away from Slavik. He sees me when I’m steps away and yanks her to him, grimacing hard as he uses his bad arm to hold her around the waist. He pulls out a gun with his free hand and puts it to her head.
“Not another step,” he shouts. I stop in the middle of the lane.
“Let her go,” I growl at him.
“You know, it’s been said that you’re good at noticing your own in a crowd,” he says, a little smile at the corner of his mouth. “I’m surprised you decided to try this without taking stock of who was around you. Fatal mistake, it seems.”
All I can see is Nona, shaking and scared, her eyes watery and big and green. “If you hurt her, I will cut off your head and mount it on my wall.”
He laughed. “You are in no position to make demands.”
As he says that, I hear a collection of guns cocking around me. The spectacle that we’re causing has caused bystanders to rush off and away from us. I’d say that we have mere minutes before the police show up.
And just over Slavik’s shoulder, I see Rikki, creeping up with his gun. I signal him with my eyes, giving him as stern a glare as I can without alerting everyone around me. Don’t.
“This is just too good,” Slavik says. “Certainly makes up for missing your father’s death. I would have done just about anything to see that piece of shit get blown to bits.”
He regards me for a moment, then, “I was going to shoot her right here. It would have brought me joy to know that she was still loyal to me as the light faded from her eyes.” His jeering smile fades. “I guess I’ll have to get some joy in cutting your spawn out of her belly myself.”
“No,” Nona cries. “Please—”
I step forward and I’m grabbed from behind, my arm twisted hard behind my back as I’m brought down to the ground. My face touches the stone walk and a knee digs into the center of my back.
“Slavik!” I manage to shout. My breath is so restricted, it comes out hoarse and forced. “Don’t you fucking touch her!”
“Take him to the docks where his father died,” he says, “and kill him. One shot to the back of the head and dump him in the river.”
Nona’s crying openly now. I’m struggling to breathe, to stand. All I can see are her feet as she’s shuffled away to another one of the men. I watch helplessly as she’s nearly dragged kicking and screaming away.
I’m lifted up off the ground, both my arms pinned behind me. I feel zip ties go around my wrists, but I barely feel them. I’m looking around for Kostya and Rikki.
Rikki is watching from a nearby bench, waiting for the signal to free me.
And Kostya’s not where he was on the rock behind us.
There are no fewer than eight men around me right now.
Four of them followed Slavik and Nona out of the park.
If Rikki was going to try and free either of us, he needs to follow Nona.
I want to shout to him what to do, but I know that the moment I do that, these men will kill him.
Rikki’s a monster, but he’s not bulletproof.
I let them take me away and I hope Rikki knows what to do. He heard where they’re taking me and with me gone, I imagine Slavik is coming out of hiding and taking her back to his home.
Rikki needs to gather my men and go after him and save my legacy.
Save Nona.
A misting rain started drifting over the car as we pull up to the dock parking lot. The irony isn’t lost on me. It was raining the night that my father died here, and now I guess the same will be true for me.
My captors split up at the park, four of them driving in one direction and the other four piling in a car with me. I’ve been sitting uncomfortably in the back seat with these zip ties digging into my wrists, watching the city spin past as I’m crammed in between two of Slavik’s men.
It occurs to me that I’m not going to get out of this. Even if I freed myself, I’ve been disarmed. I’ll have to fight all four of these well-armed men, and while I might be a badass, the odds are grossly against me for survival.
I’ve been contemplating the logistics of attempting escape. They could kill me while I’m trying to free myself. I don’t know if that’s more noble than just kneeling down and letting them shoot me in the head. I’ve never been afraid to die, but I’ve always fought to survive…
And I want to survive. More than ever. But I need Nona to live more.
The car comes to a stop in the lot and the driver mutters something under his breath in Russian. The guy in the passenger’s seat says, “Don’t start this again.”
“But it should be me,” he says right back to him. “I’ve been in this brotherhood the longest. I have rite of seniority.”
“You’re too old and shaky to do it,” the one next to me says.
“I don’t care who does it as long as we do it fast,” the last one says. He’s rubbing the bridge of his nose. “This weather is treacherous.”
If I wasn’t the one they were talking about ‘doing’, I might think this is funny. Four boeviks fighting like children over who gets to lick the spoon.
“You complain like children,” the one in the passenger’s seat says. “Let’s just get this over with.”
He opens the door and a rush of cool air comes into the car.
All four get out, with one dragging me out with them.
I stand in the cool night air, letting the rain mist over me.
Rain and all, it’s still a good night to die.
We walk past the spot where I found my father bleeding out on the asphalt and I wonder what he must have been thinking as he looked up at the falling rain.
My death won’t be like his. He had time, albeit moments, to think and reflect. Maybe he only thought he was badly injured and would survive at that point.
I’m jealous. I’ll have none of that. I’ll get on my knees and the lights will just go out.
I hope my last thought will be of Nona.
I’m walked along the boardwalk to the edge of a long pier. All four men surround me, still arguing over who gets to take me out.
“I’m only saying,” the driver says, “Of the four of us, I’ve been Bratva the longest. I’m practically Slavik’s most trusted man.”
“You are far from his most trusted. You are mid-rate at best…”
We’re about halfway down the pier when I hear it, just under their voices. The sound of a car engine behind us. I hear it rumble, then stop with several clicks.
But there are no headlights and these four haven’t taken notice.
“If anyone is his most trusted,” one of them says, “it’s probably Stefan.”
“Well, he’s still in Russia, so that makes me—”
“Enough,” the one who was the passenger says. We’ve reached the end of the pier. “It doesn’t matter who does it as long as he’s dead. You want to do him so badly? Go ahead.”
They’ve been bickering so much that they don’t notice the sound of the footsteps on the boardwalk, but I have. I ball up my fists and lift my arms up a little, getting ready to fight back.
The one doing the most complaining puts his hand on my shoulder and pushes me to my knees. “Get down,” he says, then pulls out his gun.
If I’m still alive when the shot goes off…
It does. The air fills with the smell of gunpowder as bullets ring out above me. I duck down, raising my arms and slamming them against my back, ready to fight.
But there’s no one left. All four of my captors have fallen. Two fell in the river and the other two are lying next to me. The complaining one is dead, a hole in the side of his head, his blood pooling out underneath him.
I look up to see a figure rushing up to me. It’s Kostya. The last man is still alive, holding his bloodied chest as he turns over on his side. He moans and curses in Russian.
Kostya jogs up, his eyes on the living one. “You whole?” he asks me.
“I am.” I stand up and brush the dirt off my knees. Kostya nods, then he raises his gun again and shoots the last man in the head, ceasing his moans of agony.
He looks at me, and the lights above us catch the side of his face. It’s bruised all to hell and one eye looks as though it’s starting to swell shut.
“Got jumped back at the park,” he says. “Sorry. They had me hemmed up so I couldn’t get a good bead on the sonofabitch.” He wipes at his good eye and says, “Fucking Irkutsk scum.”
“Where’s Rikki?”
“He’s circling the wagons,” he says. “We figure Slavik’s taking Nona back to his place.”
I nod, then I reach down and grab a gun from the waistband of one of the dead men and say, “We’d better hurry.”