That’s when I pull my cap down low over my face and run.
I'm moving before I make the conscious decision. I run across the street and pull out an employee badge I’d had one of my men steal weeks ago, just in case we needed it during our surveillance. I shove it in the guard’s face without looking and run up the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator.
Once I’m on the second-floor landing, I pull out my gun and keep it safe in one hand, walking down the hall as quietly as I can.
I bend the corner for Gela’s office, and that’s when I hear the voices. Gela’s cleared of all.
Her voice sounds strained. Stressed. My heart beats faster from anger alone. Who the fuck do these men think they are, walking in and scaring the hell out of her?
I’ll have them all for this, if it’s the last thing I do.
“—don't understand what financial reports you're talking about,” she's saying. “I just handle the marketing for—”
“Your investment depends on it.” Someone cuts her off. “The man who funds your little start-up is a powerful man, and to keep staying here, you need to hand us a list of all your clients and billings.”
I press my back against the wall outside her office, straining to hear.
“Listen, please,” Gela insists, her voice stronger now, angry. “My company has to maintain client privacy. If the funder has concerns, he can talk to me directly instead of sending—”
“The funder doesn't waste time with little girls like you,” another man says, his voice chillingly soft.
“I also know for a fact that I’m not a fool. Why would the funder even want those financials? What business is it of his? And if he did, ask him to drop me an email,” she fires back, her voice angrier than before. “I’ve entertained you enough, and I’m done. I tried being polite, but if you don’t leave now, I’ll be forced to call the police.”
There's a moment of silence, then a small gasp from Gela that makes my blood boil.
I risk a glance around the corner. Scarface has his gun out, and it’s pointed straight at Gela's chest.
And that’s when I understand what this is. A protection scam. The bloody Zakharov men have set this up to scare the hell out of her, and in time, they’ll only escalate the violence until she’ll have no choice but to pay them protection money.
And the client list? They’ll find dirt. They’ll threaten to ruin her reputation, her life.
This is only the start. They’re slowly pulling her into their hooks.
“I…I don’t know where the financials are. My accountants are off today,” she says, and I can hear the tears she’s holding back. “Please, if you could come back tomorrow.”
“Like hell,” Scarface says, cocking his gun.
And something in me snaps.
I step around the corner and raise my gun. “Put it down.”
Just as the men turn, I shoot off into the chest of the man holding the gun in the first place. He cries as he falls, and I know he won’t survive the shot.
He crumbles to the ground just as another turns his gun on me, but I put a bullet between his eyes before he can fire.
The third one lunges for Gela, using her as a shield, his own weapon pressed against her temple.
“Yuri. What the fuck are you doing here?” he spits as he recognizes me, even though I have no idea who he is. Clearly, Trifon was right to keep an eye on the Zakharovs because they’ve been watching us too.
As for these guys, they’re just low-lying Zakharov scum vying for trouble and a little extra cash. I simply need to figure out their angle with Gela.
Gela's eyes widen as she stares at me, her eyes filled with fear as they travel down to the gun I now hold, then to the body lying on her right.
She looks terrified, not just of the situation and these men, but of me. I hate seeing her like this. I wish I could explain, but now’s not the time.
“Let her go,” I say calmly despite the rage boiling inside me. “There’s no need to involve her in whatever racket you have going on.”
He tightens his grip on Gela, making her wince. “She’s in this building. We run this fucking building and everyone in it. Back off, Yuri.”
