Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
The man sandwiched between us reaches for a knife strapped to his belt, but Ulysses presses the barrel of his gun against the back of the man’s head.
Gavril Dmitriev jumps out from behind the pool table with a gun in his hand. He aims for my chest, but I fire before he has time to pull the trigger. The bullet hits him right between the eyes. His body folds in on itself before it goes down to the floor.
“Don’t move,” Ulysses says. “Do not fucking blink.”
I walk over to where Dmitriev lies with blood pooling around his head. Going down on my haunches, I check his pulse.
Dead.
Motherfucker.
I turn to the tall guy.
He raises his hands. “I didn’t know he was going to throw a knife at you. I was just trying to defend myself.”
I motion at the corpse. “Did he work for you?”
“He was one of my dealers.”
“I assume you’re the guy he was staying with.”
The man gives a terse nod. “I don’t know what your business was with him, but I know nothing about that.”
“He had a lighter pistol.”
“Yeah.” Sweating like a pig, the man glances over his shoulder at Ulysses. “It was some designer piece his wife got for him. He bragged about it a lot. He liked to joke around with it, offering the guys a light for their smokes and then shooting into the ground. It gave them the fright of their lives.”
I straighten and walk back to the guy. “Where is it?”
“Dunno.” He licks his lips in a nervous gesture. “I haven’t seen it on him for a week, maybe longer. He probably traded it for cash or liquor.”
“Do you believe him?” Ulysses asks.
The guy raises his hands higher. “I’m telling the truth, man.”
I let my gun hang at my side. “Maybe.”
“Look, the guy was a nutter.” The man wipes a hand over his sweaty brow. “We weren’t close. He didn’t even bring in that much money. He didn’t move more than a few grams between regular clients. I only gave him a place to crash because he had contacts in the bratva.”
I move closer. “Who?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t mix with those guys. I get my deliveries from a middleman. Gavril never mentioned a name. But he met them for drinks from time to time.”
“Where?”
“He didn’t say. And honestly, man? I didn’t want to know.”
I jut my chin at Ulysses, who lets the man go.
I put us chest to chest. “If I find out you lied to me, you’ll beg me to kill you long before I’m done with you.”
He holds my gaze without blinking. “I’m not.”
“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” My smile comes slowly. “For now.”
The man’s shoulders slouch as he blows out a breath.
Pointing with the barrel at the body, I say, “And clean up this mess.”
When we’re outside, Ulysses asks, “Are you going to let him handle the cleanup?”
“No.” I walk with brisk strides to the car. “I was just laying down the hierarchy.”
I trust no one but my own people to handle a cleanup.
He chuckles. “Meaning you say jump, and he asks how high?”
“Something like that,” I mumble. “Send in a team.”
He stops next to the car. “Do you think Kent told the truth?”
“Not a chance.” I open the door and get in. When Ulysses slides in into the passenger seat, I start the engine. “I knew him too well.”
“Do you think Naomi Foster was going to shoot you with that lighter?”
“I don’t know.” I turn the car toward the exit. “What I do know, is that Kent shot her to shut her up.”
“You think he was involved with the Russians.”
“I have no idea who the fuck he got mixed up with, but it’s time we pay the pakhan a visit.”
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Tatiana
* * *
I hug Jazz when I meet her outside the Italian restaurant. “I missed you. How are you doing?”
She glances at Dante’s men who keep a short distance.
I follow her gaze. “They’re just here for protection. Pretend they don’t exist.”
She frowns.
Taking her arm, I lead her inside. “Don’t worry. Reino isn’t with them.”
She stiffens at the sound of his name.
The men trickle in behind us, which makes it difficult to ignore them.
The owner comes over when he spots me from the open kitchen. Dante introduced me to him when he brought me and Noah here for lunch.
“Tatiana.” He air kisses me, knowing better than to touch me. “And who is your lovely friend?”
While I make the introduction, Jazz remains distant and barely smiles, which isn’t like her.
“My best table for you,” he says, installing us next to the window.
After I’ve thanked him, he hands us menus and scurries off to show Dante’s men to two tables at the back.
I study my friend as she bows her head over the menu. Her face is pale, and her eyes are red-rimmed. Concern tightens my chest.