Page 20

Rushing down the lounge room of the office, I stop at the next hall, hearing voices echoing from the main warehouse. Three of them.
There’s a coffee drip in the kitchen area, which makes me wonder if there’s someone nearby.
I’ll have to be careful here, and make sure I’m not sandwiched by the grunts if they decide to come this way. I peek to the bathroom down the hall, right before the half-open door leading into the warehouse.
No one is visible, so I rush down the hall on the side where the door is closed, careful to move slow enough so not to alert the Russians to any moving shadows. Once I’m opposite the bathroom, I realize the storage closet beside it might be the better spot to hide.
My heartrate rises the closer one of the Russians gets to the door.
“You, big captain cop, made a big mistake arresting him. Think you’re invincible because you wear blue?”He spits, his voice coming and going. He’s pacing, I realize. And the other two are busy rustling their prisoner.
He’s here. Quinn’s father…
By the resonance of the bratva’s voice, I surmise his back is to me, so I dash to the other side and slip into the storage closet. It’s pitch-black, and when my foot touches something that teeters, my reflexes spring into action. I catch the falling broom inches before it makes a sound.
Losing your touch, Aros.
When I hear mumbling and spastic movements, I take note Captain Dall is gagged.
“Right now, you probably thinking… ‘Hm, which man I put away comes back for vengeance?’”
Whack!
A groan resonates.
“Does Viktor Patrovski ring any bells?”
Shifting in my crouched position, I glimpse the man bending down with a big smile. He slaps the captain lightly in the face, telling him that it will all be over soon.
“Well, his brother has something to say about all this. Do not worry, you will meet him soon. Just hope you are not too connected to your fingers, or your eyes. Hah. Get used to that blindfold, Captain. It’s how the whole world will look soon. Hah. Hah.”
The others laugh as anotherwhackshakes the whole space.
“Come, boys. We have cigar and vodka while we wait for next transport.”The main bratva snaps his fingers. “Our job is done here.”
Thmp. Thmp. Thmp.
Three sets of footsteps head toward the concrete stairs and up to the hallway. My pistol is drawn in case one of them decides to get a mop on their way to the lounge.
My veins grow hot as I picture Quinn sprawled on my floor, crying her eyes out. She has no one to rely on.
Why do I even care?
My stomach goes weak, because in this moment, I realize how far I’ve come simply to help her. I had enough information for Donny since the card game. Now I’m sitting in a damn warehouse, mere feet away from the grand prize.
I’m only supposed to observe. If I’m not careful, I could start a fucking war over the grief of a woman I just met.
Thinking of how daunting my life has become since I lost my family… maybe I just want to prevent that for someone else.
Fuck that.
You’re not a fucking caretaker, Aros.
My anger flares within me, and I have a stray thought to make a mess out of the lounge room and rid the world of a few more bratva thugs. Hearing them cackle and open the windows in the other room down the way, I have prime opportunity to put three silenced bullets in their heads and let the grunts clean ’em up.
That’s not how I do things, though.
I’m the ghost.