Everyone stood and started moving towards the door. But Mikhail blocked Gennadiy’s way for a second. “I’ve seen Grushin in action before,” Mikhail said quietly. “You haven’t. Don’t underestimate him.” I could see the fear in his eyes. Grushin had taken his friend from him...and a woman he’d loved. He didn’t want to lose his family, too.
Gennadiy squeezed Mikhail’s shoulder. “I won’t,” he said. “Now let’s go get some answers.”
38
ALISON
The bar wasbehind an unmarked metal door, half covered by peeling posters. I shook my head in disbelief: I’d ridden down the street a thousand times and I’d no clue there was even a bar there, let alone that it was an underworld hangout.
Inside, the place was long but incredibly narrow, only about ten feet from wall to wall. The ceiling was low and covered in pipes and ducting, giving it the feel of a submarine. The lights were red, which made the place even more claustrophobic and unsettling. Nine men were gathered at small tables, drinking, and every one of them froze instantly when we walked in. It went so quiet that I could hear the panting of Mikhail’s dogs and the click of my heels. Everyone around us was a trained killer, most of them probably former Russian military. And every one of them wasterrifiedof the Aristovs.Is this what it’s like, being a gangster?
Gennadiy scowled and put his hand on my back. “Is he here?” he asked tightly. I’d felt the anger building in him ever since we left the mansion. I hadn’t realized, until tonight, just how mad he was about the attempt on my life. Back when it happened, he’d been hiding his feelings for me. But now…I could hear the vicious edge in his voice, and so could the men. A few of them cursed under their breath. The Aristovs were terrifying enough, butGennadiyAristov, out for vengeance?
I forced myself to focus and think like an FBI agent.Those threewere too tall.Those twonot tall enough.Hewas too wide. That left three who were all solid possibilities. I pointed to them, and the Aristovs moved closer, surrounding them and herding them into a line-up.
I stepped right up to the men and looked at each one in turn. They glared back at me, silently fuming and jumpy with fear.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been face-to-face with murderers, but there was something uniquely disturbing about knowing that one of these men tried to kill me. I don’t think I would have been able to do it if Gennadiy hadn’t been next to me, brooding and watchful, his face absolutely thunderous.
I looked at their eyes, the only part that had been visible through the ski mask, but they were all too similar. I sniffed, wondering if I’d remember their scent, but none of them was wearing a strong cologne.It could be any of them.
At that moment, one of the men took a swing at me, a vicious right hook that would have broken my cheekbone if it had connected. My martial arts training kicked in, and I swayed to the side, grabbed his arm and twisted, and he was bent over the bar with his arm up behind his back before he knew what was happening. Gennadiy stormed forward, furious, but it was already over.
Radimir muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t hear, but he sounded impressed. Gennadiy gave me a rare smile, and I felt a warm glow of pride.
“So it’s him?” asked Valentin, already reaching under his coat for a knife.
“Wait,” I said. I was looking down. Being bent over the bar had made the guy’s pant cuffs lift, and it gave me an idea. “I kicked the guy, hard, in the shin. There’ll be a bruise.” I used the tip of my shoe to lift his pant cuff a little more. “There isn’t one. It’s not this guy. But we can check the others?—”
The third guy in the line-up bolted. He moved so fast, he was already halfway to the door before any of us could react.
Mikhail gave an order in Russian, and there was a thunder of scrabbling paws and a rush of gray fur as all four of his dogs took off after the man, streaking under tables like furry missiles. As the man reached the door, two dogs leapt and closed their teeth on his arms, dragging him to the floor. As he screamed, a third dog gripped his throat. The fourth stood on his chest for good measure.
Gennadiy, his face a mask of cold fury, marched over to the man, picked him up and slammed him face-down on a table, scattering bottles and glasses. I pulled up the man’s pant cuff, just to be sure.Yep.There was a vicious purple bruise there. “This is him,” I said.
Gennadiy looked at the bartender. “Do you have a back room? Somewhere we won’t be disturbed?”
“Of course, Mr. Aristov,” said the bartender, and pointed to a door. “The storeroom, right in there.” He looked at the rest of us. “And drinks, for your family, while they wait!” He started pouring glasses of vodka, his hands visibly shaking.
I stared, stunned. If I’d been there with the FBI, the bartender would have been yelling about the damage and telling us he was going to sue. It was a whole different world on this side of the line.
Gennadiy grabbed the assassin and dragged him into the storeroom. He glanced back at me, and the look on his face was raw, protective rage. “Wait here,” he told me.
And he closed the door.
39
GENNADIY
The storeroom had white lights,mercilessly bright after the red-tinted bar. I could see the sweat on the assassin’s forehead, the rapid movements of his chest. He knew he was in trouble.
He just didn’t know how much.
I pushed him so that he was sitting on a stack of beer crates. I could feel the rage building inside me.He tried to kill her. He came with a gun in the night and tried to kill her…I forced myself to move slowly and carefully as I stripped off my suit jacket and shirt and laid them neatly over a box in the corner. No sense in ruining good clothes.
I turned to the assassin. I’m used to the anger that swirls in my chest. I’ve carried it for over two decades. But tonight, it felt different.Focused.I wasn’t used to it feeling so personal. I wasn’t used to having someone I cared this much about. “Where is Viktor Grushin?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice level.
The assassin didn’t bother lying. He just shook his head.
