Page 142 of Mafia and Scars

I glance at him, then crouch down in front of the men, staring into their faces. Young. Dumb. And loyal to the wrong people. I push up to stand, pivoting on my foot. “Does Pakhan know?”

“Yeah. He’s on the way from the casino right now.”

“What is your boss up to?” I ask the men.

One spits at my feet.

“Wrong answer,” Nikolai clips.

“Who sent you?” I grit out.

Silence.

“Go get one of your toys, Nikolai,” I say, staring down at the two boys. One’s sniveling and shivering, the other’s still trying to put on a brave face. They won’t last long.

When Nikolai returns, we first let our fists do the talking. Cracking ribs, splitting lips, breaking down that bravado little by little until all that’s left is desperation and pain.

Nikolai’s smile grows when he lights his cigarette.

“Who told you to hit the warehouse?” I try again, pressing the tip of my knife into one of their cheeks. Pressing just enough to draw blood.

“We… It w-was just an order from some guy,” the first one says, the one who looks ready to pass out.

“What guy?” Nikolai asks around the cigarette between his teeth. He’s just itching to throw it now that we’ve doused them in gasoline.

“Didn’t get a name, I swear!”

“Not good enough,” I rumble, reaching for the matches.

“Wait! Wait! We got paid up front to hit the storage unit,” the first one shrieks. “Some…some military-looking guys. Scary as shit. Had these tattoos…”

Nikolai and I exchange a look.

“Why?”

“Dunno, man,” the boy snivels. “He said it was just personal. That we’d get cash if we did it. Something about FSB and a bunch of shit in Russian I didn’t catch.”

I go still.

FSB.

I can see Nikolai’s brow furrow as if he’s trying to figure out the connection. But I already know.Gennady.My jaw tightens, and I sigh, shoving up from where I’m crouched.

“You think it’s related to the ambush on the compound?” Nikolai says.

“Some random guy tells these two idiots to hit our storage? Weeks following an attack by some freelancers with tattoos, and now FSB and Albanians working together?”

“Point made.”

“Do what you want with them,” I say. “I’m going back to the Kremlin. Going to call some of my contacts and see what I can dig up.”

“Wait! Wait!” The second man, the one who’s been trying to be some big macho man, starts screaming as Nikolai strides toward him with a blowtorch to have his fun.

I make my way to my SUV, rubbing at my temples. Pulling the notebook from my pocket, I scrawl in a seven. That’s where I’m atright now. The flickering lights in the warehouse. The strong smell of gasoline. The whole damn situation has my mind and senses spinning too fast. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I know I just need to relax. To regulate again.

I need Avelina.

I freeze.