CHAPTER 4
Zinovy
“Got him. Sending the location to your phone.”
That’s all Rurik says when I answer his call. A quick glance at the screen shows it’s after two in the morning, which is why it took me three rings to wake up and answer the damn thing. Thankfully, his text comes through immediately, sparking my brain to life and reminding me of exactly why Rurik’s psychotic ass would be contacting me in the middle of the night.
Rurk: Dino-Mite Self Storage off Purcell Ave. Secure link to track included.
I’m in motion before the link fully opens. Skipping a suit this time, I step into black cargo pants and a form-fitting, charcoal-gray henley. Black boots and a ballcap tugged low make it unlikely anyone will notice me checking out this storage place. What a dumb name for a place to store shit. Then again, a dumb place for a dumb man. A dumb, soon to be dead, man.
Gleb Kuzmin should have done his damn job and not gotten greedy. If he had, I’d still be in my comfortable bed, visions of a warm, willing body twisting and bending to my will slipping into my dreams to keep me company. As it is, I’m too busy doing the Vor’s work to find such a body, thus having the one in my dreams torn from me to address Gleb’s fuck up is especially egregious.
Resolved to spare time for recreation in the near future, as a reward for managing the Gleb problem, fills me. There are places where men like me, those too busy to wine and dine a female but with particular needs nonetheless can be satisfied. Perhaps, it’s not as satisfying as having claim to a woman who’s dedicated to pleasing me and me alone, but it’s far less work than an actual relationship.
At one point, Anatoly had tasked me with marrying his daughter, Amaliya. The memory of the moment he’d informed me in that cold way of his that I’d marry his only child still sends a shiver of distaste through me. I watched the girl grow up. Watched her continually push and prod at her father, the fucking leader of the universe I inhabit, with a zealous glee that half convinced me every time could be her last. That she’d pushed him too far. And if that day came, would he blame me, her husband, for failing to rein her in?
Lucky for me, the girl’s biker boyfriend, a man we all grudgingly respect for the way he and his club kept her safe after she’d been abducted, showed up before Anatoly could finalize the betrothal. I never expected to be thankful for a biker asshole butting in and claiming something meant to be mine, but I couldn’t hand her off to him fast enough. Shaw, the biker in question, jokes that he’s a brat tamer and lives for the way she mouths off at him and makes him work for it. That wasn’t for me.
I want a soft woman. One who follows where I lead and bows to her knees in thanks for everything I give her. Pretty much the opposite of a spoiled bratva princess. Not that I’m really looking for a woman like that. Barely thirty, I’ve got years before thePakhanexpects me to settle down and project the stable businessman persona of a typicalavtorityet. I ascended more quickly than most do. My skill with a blade and lack of hesitation in obeying myPakhansmoothing a path faster than even my father, the son of a bitch known for his brutality across all Russia, had to acknowledge was impressive.
As he did. Right before I slit his throat and threw his body into the sea as Anatoly suggested I should, proving my worth after my father insinuated the American Vor was somehow lesser due to our distance from the motherland. Afterward, Anatoly Balakin became my father. My father, my employer, my king, and my god.
There is no obnoxious honk signaling I locked the doors as I stride from my car into the darkness that shrouds the fence line of this absurdly named storage lot. No flashing headlights that signal my arrival or disturb the stillness of the heavy air aroundme. The facility is so quiet the hum of the security camera perched on a pole at the corner is the only sound breaking the silence. Even the air remains still as I slowly ease closer to the nearest building. The lot is arranged in rows of garages, each one equipped with twenty or so bays.
My mind plays through the layout of the facility, which I’d checked before I arrived, counting the buildings to reach the third one from the front. That’s where Rurik’s intel places Gleb’s phone. Looking around, it’s obvious the security here sucks. It’ll be nothing for me to breach the perimeter cameras and make my way to the C-block of garages. The cameras are all aimed low to capture the walkways and alley where cars can pull in. As long as I move from building to building along their roofs, the recordings will miss me.
The trouble will be minimizing the sound. I’m not a small man. In fact, I’ve been likened to a giant more than once in my life. Still, a lifetime of moving as silently as possible to hunt my quarry has prepared me for nearly anything. I circle the exterior perimeter until I reach the third building from the front. The far end of it abuts the fence line, and I easily climb the metal links to balance on the top pole and lunge onto the roof. A single thud is the only disruption to the nighttime stillness.
I prowl along the roof until I’m directly above the location dot gleaming on my screen, despite using the dimmest setting my phone allows. Flattening my body on the roof, I hold myself as frozen as possible and listen. Not a sound. On a slow, deep inhale, I catch the tiniest scent of greasy food, the unmistakable odor of bacon, cheese, and beef confirming that someone is behind the garage door below me.
It wouldn’t take any effort to get through the door and trap Gleb. But busting into a storage bay with only one way in or out would be the height of stupidity, and while I am many things, an idiot is not one of them. As stupid a fuck as Gleb Kuzmin is, even he isn’t so dumb as to hide out in a storage garage without taking steps to fortify it for safety. I need to wait him out. Which is fine. Shouldn’t be hard. It’s not as if these garages have bathrooms or kitchens. He’s gotta come out sometime soon, and when he does, I’ll be here waiting for him.
Chapter
Five
CHAPTER 5
Petal
The phone I found has over half its battery left, which is a wild bit of luck I’m grateful for as I browse the factory default apps installed. It appears as though it’s been reset to original settings by whoever owned it before they got rid of it. Which tells me the owner isn’t going to come looking for it. I can’t imagine the level of affluence that allowed someone to just wipe a phone as valuable as this current model smartphone then throw it away. Can’t imagine it, but I’m also unwilling to be anything less than grateful they did.
This phone will change things for me in incredible ways. I can feel it. I finish creating an account using the system’s Wi-Fi connectivity to theDino-Miteleasing office. Discovering the facility has an open Wi-Fi access point was another happysurprise this morning. I make a new email account I can use to fill out apartment applications and begin browsing the local rental pages. I think I’m still a couple weeks from having enough money saved for a deposit, but yesterday went a huge way to convincing me I can make it.
Doesn’t hurt that my stomach’s full for the first time in months. Does sorta hurt that my bladder is, too, though. I eye the empty coffee ground tin stashed in the corner and consider if I’m desperate enough to use it. I put it there in case anything ever happened that had me holing up in here for longer than I expected, but I haven’t really allowed myself to think about using it.
Yes, pride falls in the face of necessity, but if I can just hold it for another half hour or so, I can find a bush along the road while I’m walking to the diner for the first shift of what I hope is another two-shift day. I cross my legs at the ankles and clench my thighs to hold back the pressure of pee. The inability to simply use the restroom whenever I need to is another reminder of how far my life is from normal, but that’s okay. I’ll get through this, and I’ll be stronger for it. For the rest of my life, I’ll know I don’t have to lie down and take it because a man tells me to.
Just when the wiggling, seated potty dance starts to feel as if I won’t hold back the pee much longer, the newly set alarm on my phone dings. It’s finally time to sneak out of here and head toPete’s Pastriesfor my shift. Thank all the stars in the sky, because seriously, I’m starting to feel as if my eyes are floating in my head I’ve got so much liquid bottled up inside me. I roll to my knees and pull myself up the wall as quickly as I can.
Muscles and joints that shouldn’t ache this much inside a twenty-year-old body protest every move, and my feet throb so badly I’m scared to look down and see what my still tightly laced shoes might hide. I reach for my uniform and shrug it on over the tank and boy shorts I wore to sleep in, then swap the shorts for my last pair of clean panties. It’s a reminder that now that I’ve found this hidey spot to turn into a temporary home base, I really need to hit up the thrift store for some more clothes.
I force myself to stand up straight and walk without a limp to the doorway of the garage and bite back the groan my sore muscles wrench from me when I bend low to unlock the door. I slip from one darkness into another, the muted glow of nearby streetlights nowhere near enough to illuminate the aisles between buildings. The padlock snaps into place, and I heave on my backpack, more than ready to hustle from shadow to shadow until I’m past the fence. Then I’ll finally have the chance to crouch behind the nearest bush and unload my bladder.
“Ow, ow, owie!” I chant softly with every step once I’m past the fence line. I don’t have to be so carefully quiet now, and my pain can’t be contained. I’m giving myself the next hour while I walk to work to be as whiney as I need to be about how much my feet ache. Then I’ll lock up the pain and grit my teeth, so I can do my job.
I find a bush just beyond the management building and hurry to squat behind it, leaning against the wall to steady myself as I widen my legs as far as they’ll go to keep pee from splashing onto my shoes. It’s bad enough they’re obviously cheap knockoffs that already look beat up and worn in from all thewalking I’ve been doing. If they stink like pee there’s no way George will let me wear them to work.
