“It’s important you stay put,” I cut her off. “I came back to grab more weapons. I didn’t tell you earlier, but we’re making our move against the Raguzins tonight. It’s happening in a few hours.”
Her brown eyes fill with worry from behind her glasses. “Tonight? I thought?—”
“This is life or death, Jhene,” I say. “I need to know you’re safe here while I’m out there. Give me your word you’ll stay put.”
A second of hesitation passes where she opens her mouth as if about to argue, then closes it again. Her fingers twist in her lap. The conflict plays across her features. Her desire to push back warring with the fear of what’s to come.
“Okay…” she murmurs, voice small. “I’ll stay.”
“Good.”
I turn toward the door before I can change my mind about leaving. Lines have already been blurred and wires crossed.
We’ve already made things so damn confusing.
It’s for the best we spend a few hours apart. I’ve got important shit to handle.
“Be careful,” she calls at the last second. “Don’t get yourself hurt… please.”
I merely nod then shut and lock the door.
Cian’s in the hall keeping post. I jut my chin at the apartment door.
“Send another buttonman for the fire escape,” I order. “We need to make sure she goes nowhere while I’m gone.”
He pulls out his cell phone. “Sure thing, Kill. I’ll get Brady over.”
I turn and head out of the building, the summer air hitting my face as I head off to battle.
We hit the Vodka Room minutes after midnight.
The pub still has customers. Russian patrons drunk off vodka who we shoot point blank in the head as we barge into the place and open fire.
Anybody hanging around a pub belonging to the Russian mob this time of night deserves what’s coming to them.
A few bouncers rush toward us, but we make quick work of them too. For as loud and obnoxious as Sean can be, he’s a good shot.
He takes them out as I lead a couple others upstairs.
Jhene said if Fedorov or Rurik were here, that’s wherethey’d be. Rurik specifically spends every night at this establishment except for Sundays.
Exactly why we’ve dropped in on a Wednesday.
We make it to the second floor and put a bullet in another enforcer that goes to shoot at us first. He drops to the ground and we step over his body.
We come up on the door at the end of the hall that Jhene said is the main office. I waste no time kicking it in, my boot slamming against the knob.
The door bangs open, and we find the room empty except for some bald fuck who pops to his feet and yells at us in Russian.
Jhene told us about him too—name’s Koyan, and he’s a longtime friend and associate of Fedorov. So much so he hired him to manage the pub.
“Where’s Rurik?” I demand.
“Idi v zhopu!” he screams. Then he adds, “mudak!”
“Shoot him,” I say simply.
The buttonman to my left rushes to pull the trigger. Koyan goes from loudly cussing at us to flopping to the floor, bleeding out from the chest.
