I lay on the bed still damp, not having the energy to dry off, set my alarm and pass out.
***
We pull around to the back parking lot at Haven. Only three black SUVs sit in the shadows. The restaurant is owned by a former Armenian mob gun runner who wanted to retire here. New York allowed it under the conditions he stays out of mob business and lets us hold neutral meetings at his restaurant when necessary.
We’ve received word from both teams. They’re in position at both houses.
I grab Gunnar’s arm as he begins to open the back door. “They’re insisting I come in alone.”
“No fuckin’ way,” Big Tony barks from the driver’s seat, turning to look from me to Gunnar. “You don’t know what you’ll be walking into.”
“He’s right, Sandro,” Gunnar’s blue eyes burn in the darkness. “They’ve already tried to take you out once. You could be walking into a trap.”
They don’t understand I would walk into a bonfire and burn alive for Lennon. “Felix’s men will be in there. You both know they won’t allow weapons. I’m not worried about the fuckers trying to kill me with their bare hands. Just stay here, that’s an order.”
“If you’re not out in thirty minutes, we’re coming in,” Big Tony growls.
Gunnar grumbles his disapproval as I remove my throwing knives from inside their custom pockets in my blazer and shove them in the back seat pocket, then hop out of the SUV.
“Stay alert,” Gunnar says before the door closes.
Two of Felix’s men let me in through the back kitchen door, pat me down and when satisfied I’m not carrying, motion for me to go ahead.
I step through the swinging doors and enter the dining room.
Oleg and Toly are sitting at a round table with a few plates and a bottle of Beluga in front of them. Their voices carry across the room as they have a heated argument in Russian.
Toly notices me and nods his chin. Oleg turns to stare at me. Their expressions are tense. Toly’s face is red, and he’s tapping a thick finger on the table in irritation.
What did I walk into?
I steady myself, careful not to limp or show how weak I’m feeling. As I approach their table, I sweep the dimly lit room, verifying we’re truly alone.
I don’t bother to shake their hands as I take a seat and glare at them. “Before you say one fucking word I want to speak to Lennon.”
Oleg’s nostrils flare and his eyes narrow. He obviously isn’t used to being ordered around or disrespected, but I don’t give a shit. IfI don’t quench this flame of anxiety, I’m going to explode. “Now,” I growl.
He presses his thin lips together like he’s trying to hold back his response and then nods at his son.
Toly looks like he wants to rip my head off, but he pulls out his phone and dials a number. Still glaring at me, he puts it on speaker and says, “Polozi devuscu na telephone.”Then he hands it across the table, careful to avoid the candle flickering in the middle.
“Lennon?” I don’t even try to hide my concern now. My teams are in place. She’s coming home one way or another.
“Sandro?”
Hearing her sweet voice calms my insides. My chest loosens. “You okay?”
“I’m… yeah. Not hurt.”
A male voice interrupts, “Mne bolno! Sukastab me with fork when I’m nice and give her food.Razresheniye pricinitis ey bolle?”
“Nyet,”Oleg barks.
I narrow my gaze at Oleg. “He better keep his fucking hands off her.”
Oleg sighs and switches to English, presumably for my benefit. “The girl is not to be harmed. Understood?”
“Da, Boss.”
