The fear is paralyzed onto his face, his mouth open wide, and his eyes filled with terror. Blood is oozing from the spot whereshe severed his neck, dripping down. Her entire hand is covered in the same shade, same liquid.
“Four down, one to go.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Kaya parks the car at the end of the street, turning the engine off. She’s silent for a couple of minutes, then shifts in her seat, unbuckling herself, and turns to look at me. Her eyes are slightly narrowed, though in her own way, I guess it's a worry.
“Once you have him where you want him, text me,” she instructs. “I will not interfere, but I’ll bring you some necessities. Do you plan on doing this for days?”
“A whole year if need be,” I respond. “I’ll need some food, water, and just in case, a first aid kit.”
Kaya raises a curious brow. “Do you plan on doing stitches or something?”
“Hopefully, I won’t have to. But, yes, I’d much rather stitch him up than allow him to bleed to death. Also, add some chains to that. I want to tie him up.”
Kaya nods. “I’ll get everything. As soon as you have him right where you want him, I’ll be there. Not that I’ll need much time, I’ll be right behind you.”
“Perfect.”
I pull out a small packet of alcohol wipes for a singular use, and open up the glove department. Kaya has a sturdy looking notebook in there, and I decide it’s good enough for tonight. I wipe it clean, making sure it’s as sterile as possible, before I pull out the small packet of heroin.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Kaya groans. “Seriously? Now? Here?”
I shrug, creating two small lines, trying to get them as equal as possible. “Heroin either knocks me out, or turns me into an insomniac. Can’t wait to see which one’s gonna be tonight.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Blair.”
It’s useless. By the time she finishes speaking, I’ve already snorted up the first line. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes, and allowing my body to feel the kick of the drugs. The second line follows, and all of a sudden, it’s like a burst of energy. It’s probably just my subconsciousness playing tricks on me, but it’s as good as it’ll get.
“I know,” I mumble, unbuckling the belt. “Call your men. Tell them to bring him here, and keep an eye on him until they see me.”
Kaya rolls her eyes, but does as I request nonetheless. She presses the dial option, and then puts the device to her ear.She switches from English to Russian, and I’m amazed. She sounds so good speaking her native language, and although I’ve heard Russian before, I never took a moment to truly listen and appreciate it.
It’s such a rough language to listen to, but it’s beautiful. She sounds like she’s a princess of some sort, and judging by the way she’s acting like the world is hers, I don’t doubt she was raised as one. For crying out loud, the woman grew up in an actual castle.
She ends the call, tucking the phone in her purse. “They’ll be there in five minutes. You should head over there, and I’ll go grab your necessities in the meantime.”
I nod, taking a deep breath and steeling myself for what’s to come. My hand reaches for the door handle, and before I can allow my insecurities and anxiety to rear their ugly heads, I push the door open.
“Oh, and Blair?”
I’m out the door, but I stop and glance over my shoulder at Kaya. “Yes?”
“Good luck.”
I offer a soft smile, and close the door. The engine roars to life, and she drives off, leaving me on the side of the walk. I don’t waste any time, my feet carrying me toward the place we agreed this would all start at.
My phone’s fully charged, and the gun is in the pocket of my hoodie, the spare clip in the backpocket of my pants. I won’t need it all for him, maybe just a couple of bullets to scare him off, but definitely not all.
I throw the hood on, covering my face, hands in pockets. It’s late, almost eleven in the evening, yet the streets are packed withpeople. It’s almost spring, and even with the heavy rain the past couple of days, it’s warmer. The winter is gone, and warmer days are ahead.
This is very, very risky.
The reason I chose Seventh Avenue is because it’s close to Times Square. But this particular Avenue is always packed with people, no matter the time of day or night and it’s absolutely perfect for what I’m about to do. I take one, last left turn and I find myself in a crowd of people. It’s loud, chattery, and filled with emotions that I cannot allow myself to have. The rain is stronger now, falling down on me, as if the weather knows what’s coming, washing away any doubts that I may have.
There, in the middle of the street is Paul Simmons.
Two of Kaya’s men push him forward, before stepping backward. They’re there in case he tries anything, yet they’re hidden from direct view of people. Of course, the Bratva men are rarely seen.
