“There you are,” he says with a sickening laugh.
I waver with one of my feet still pointed toward freedom. I can’t leave without Sasha. I can’t?—
I’m grabbed from behind. A strong arm lifts me up off my feet and starts to drag me backward. Over my screams, Sergei says, “Use duct tape this time.”
28
ROMAN
Ipull up to the warehouse to see four cars sitting out front. Two of them have their headlights on and pointed toward the front door. Misting rain falls around the cars, creating a glowing mist in the yellow lights.
How dramatic. No one could ever accuse the Durovs of having a lack of drama when it comes to these sorts of things.
I park the car and a slew of memories bubbles up. Sergei’s father, Pyotr standing in the lighted walkway of our last meet, his thinning hair nearly glowing against the streetlights above and behind him. He’s wearing a trenchcoat as he glowers at me.
“You young Pakhans cling too hard to silly love stories.”
It had been his response to me after my accusations had been made. The other Pakhans around us were hoping that we could come to some understanding or agreement. To them, it was just a ‘disagreement’. No civilians were supposed to be hurt, after all. It was just a response to a deal that had been fouled up. These things happen.
But my wife was dead. My wife was dead and this piece of shit thought it was just a ‘silly love story’.
That night was the night that I decided he had to die. Him and his entire clutch of Bratva, his wife, his children, everyone who bore the Durov name. The first strike had been at his home in the middle of the night. Pyotr, his wife, his three sons, all killed in their beds.
I had been the one to put a bullet in Pyotr’s head. It had been me to watch the light fade from his eyes.
For weeks after, I searched for any other family. I sent word back to my contacts in Russia to find any other family. And one by one, I got reports back on their exterminations.
I thought this was done. Of course it wasn’t. I suppose it never is.
I get out of the car and into the cold mist around me and walk toward the light. As soon as I’m outside, car doors open and Sergei’s men all get out and flank the lit area. I walk slowly, mentally taking a tally of everyone. Seven to nine men, roughly.
Sergei gets out of one of the cars and steps out into the light, a smile on his face and a gun trained on me. “That’s far enough.” I stop at the edge of the light. He waggles the gun. “Arms up.”
I put my arms up and one of his men steps up to me and starts patting me down. “You don’t trust me, Sergei?”
“Of course not,” he says. “What fool would trust the word of his father’s murderer?”
I snort a laugh as his man pats down my legs, then steps away. “Nine men, it looks like,” I say. “All for little old me?”
“I’m well versed in your reputation,” he says. “There are stories about how dangerous you are, even unarmed. I’m not about to take any chances.”
“Seems like cowardice to me,” I say, tilting my head at him. “I guess bravery doesn’t run in the family. Your brother had more balls than you. At least he made the attempt alone.”
His smile falters. News might travel fast among us, but there’s no way he knows yet about Ivan.
“Was that your idea?” I ask him. “A backup plan just in case yours didn’t work? What would you have done if he’d have succeeded?”
“What did you do to my brother?” he asks. He’s trying to stay cool, but I hear the tremor in his voice.
“Oh, I see. So, big brother acted alone. He must have known you were attacking and saw his chance. That is very interesting… and very stupid. You really should have been more coordinated in your attack.”
“If you harmed a single hair on his head?—”
“Did more than that,” I say. “Seems like you’re the only one left to carry on Pyotr’s legacy… or the only one left for me to eliminate.”
He raises his gun. “Big talk for an unarmed man. I should shoot you in your fucking head.”
“You should. What are you waiting for?”
