Ivan glances at his phone. “The guy’s name is Ricardo Mendelez,” he says.
“I don’t recall the name?” I mutter, trying to figure out if I knew the guy.
“No, he was one of the bulk hires from HR to do the basics around the warehouse. He went through all the usual checks before he joined the team. Nothing suspicious was found onhim. I don’t think this is linked to any of our rivals or an attempt to infiltrate. It appears to be one Lone Ranger trying to make a quick bit of cash for himself.”
A sneer touches my lips as I shake my head. “Fuck it. Give me his address. I want to pay him a visit right now.”
“You want to take a team with you?”
“No. I’ll handle this myself. This guy is going to become an example for any future asshole who thinks he can test me.”
Ivan nods. “I’ll text you the address now. I’ll have men on standby just in case. Shout if shit goes South,” he says.
It’s almost nine when I park outside the address I have on file for Mendelez. It’s a shitty-looking house on a street that most people would avoid after dark. Sitting in my car, I’ve been watching the house for a few minutes, trying to scope the situation. So far, all I’ve seen is one guy moving about inside, making dinner, and drinking beer. His curtains are open, oblivious to my observations. He’s middle-aged, overweight, somewhat balding, and walks with a limp. He doesn’t look like much from here. Maybe it’s time to take a closer look.
Finally, I push open my car door and step out into the cold night air.
My breath steams from my mouth like a dragon breathing a threat of warning to the man he’s about to set aflame.
I smile at the image. Maybe I should burn his house down. I can imagine the pain of having his skin cook right on the bone while he tries to scream, but can’t take a breath in because of the stench and the smoke.
Burning human skin is a horrible smell.
But no. Tonight I’ll leave the neighbors' houses safe. No point in taking out a whole block just to deal with one man. Thepeople who live on either side of him have nothing to do with his transgressions against me.
A confident, but dangerous smile curves my lips up at the corners as I knock on his door.
Two raps. A third.
“Who the fuck is it?” A coughing growl comes from inside. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it.”
“Ricardo?” I call out.
“Who is it?” he asks again as he pulls the door open. The stench of old cigarettes and sweat hits me the moment the door opens just a crack.
As soon as it’s open, I kick it. Hard. The man flies backward and lands on his ass on the tiled floor. He yelps in horror, his eyes growing wide with fright.
“Who are you?” he demands.
“You don’t recognize me? My face?”
“No…get the hell out of my house!”
“Now now, that’s no way to disrespect your boss, Ricardo,” I muse, walking slowly toward him, slipping my hand into a black leather glove.
“Wha…what…who are you?” he stammers, stuck on repeat.
“My name is Adrian Volkov. And tonight is not the first time you’ve disrespected me. Is it, Ricardo?” I ask calmly as I pull my gun from the holster beneath my jacket.
His eyes flare wider as he scoots backward along the floor. He manages to cling to an old wooden cabinet and pull himself to his feet. Ricardo raises his hands in fear and stammers again, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Volkov. How couldI possibly have disrespected you, sir? I work in your warehouse and…”
“And your stick fat fingers got stuck in some things they shouldn’t have been stuck in,” I tell him, pulling the slide back to make sure there is a bullet in the chamber.”
“Mr. Volkov, I… I was….it wasn’t me. I don’t know why you think it was me!” he stammers, tripping over the lie.
“Interesting because we have you on video. You didn’t think a warehouse like that would have security cameras?”
“No... but….”
