I hit a few keys and his computer dings.
“Yup, Eva will be attending Groveton next fall,” I announce.
His crystal-blue eyes darken, and the danger in their depths jumps to the surface. “Perfect. Thanks, Liam. It’s always a pleasure doing business with you,” he says before his screen cuts out.
The look of malice and utter glee that crossed Colt’s face almost makes me feel bad for Eva- almost.
I pick up my phone and scroll, hitting call when I find his name.
“This better be good. I’m with our girl.” His tone is lighthearted. Guilt tugs in my gut- knowing my next words will eviscerate that feeling.
“I found them,” is all I say. He’ll know exactly who I’m referring to. Ever since that day in the car, he’s known I’ve been searching.
“Fuck! When?” he asks, his joking demeanor vanishing.
“King is on it. He’ll be here within a day.”
The line goes silent. I have to pull the phone from my ear to make sure it’s still connected.
“I’ll be there,” Karl states and disconnects the call.
* * *
I watch on my screen as the slumped form of Lenkov is carried in a body bag through the service elevator of the Tombs.
“Is-is that really him?” Karl questions.
“Yes, that’s the fucker.
I turn to my friend- my brother and see a sheen of sweat beading on his forehead.
“O,” I start, “if this is too much for you, I go-.”
He cuts me off. “I’m fucking fine. There’s not a chance in hell I’d miss this opportunity,” he snaps.
I know his anger isn’t at me- it’s at the sick twisted dead man walking or, in this case, being carried.
The unknown of what they did to him sets my teeth on edge. I keep replaying the events of that day over and over. Was there something I could’ve done differently? Why did we follow Sam outside? How come it took so long for someone to find him? Should I have fought harder? The questions play on an endless loop in my mind, and as I take in the rigid posture of Karl- I wish for the umpteenth time it was me instead of him that stayed behind that day.
The door slides open, and King steps through, two of his men trailing behind him carrying the body-sized bag containing Aleksi.
“Privet, droog moy. It’s good to see you again,” King says, his Russian accent heavy as he extends his hand in greeting, and I return the gesture.
We aren’t friends, but we aren’t enemies either. I’m just not telling this disturbed fuck that.
King is a ruthless bastard. After he was almost killed by his uncle in order to take his spot for Pakhan, he moved to America to start over. Now he’s built one of the largest Bratvas stateside.
“King,” I reply, nodding my head in Karl’s direction. “You remember Karl.”
He steps back, exposing his massive wolf throat tattoo. Its open maw spans the entirety of his neck, the upper teeth lining King’s jaw, with the canines dripping in blood like the wolf just had a fresh kill. It’s often the last thing his victims see before their end. King jokes that he has to feed his beast before a kill.
King turns to greet Karl, “Of course, I do. Good to see you again.”
“You too,” Karl responds, the earlier strain in his voice gone, but when I look at him, I can see him fighting to keep it together.
I turn to watch as King’s calculating electric-blue eyes study Karl, his jaw flexing, trying to determine if he’s friend or foe.
A loud thud shifts my attention to where his men have dropped Aleksi to the table.
King clears his throat, refocusing my attention on him as he adjusts the sleeve of his black shirt before running his hands through his inky-black hair. “I brought the fucking mudak. He thought he was safe behind his gates- it took me five minutes to get in and tranq the bitch,” he boasts. “So much for quality security measures.”
Karl snorts. “His fuck up is our party.” His statement makes King laugh.
King claps his hands together once, and states, “I’ll leave you both to it then. It’s always a pleasure doing business with you, Liamon. Until next time.” Then he and his men exit the same way they entered.
Once the door slides closed, Karl and I stand there and just look at the unmoving form still zipped in the bag. Neither one of us moves.
I’m not sure how long we’ve been standing here before I finally speak. “How do you want to do this?”
“Let’s do to him what he and his fucked up brother did to me,” Karl grits through clenched teeth.
I close my eyes. He’s never told a soul what happened to him there. We know it was horrific based on the state he was in when he came back. His whole body was battered and bruised, dried blood was still caked to his skin, and the number of stitches he needed only began to tell the story of what Karl faced.
“Are you sure?” I ask, trying to gauge his temperament. I don’t want him to have to relive his abuse unless he’s ready.
Cold eyes meet mine- Karl isn’t here anymore- his monster is firmly in place, ready to dole out justice that’s long overdue.
He doesn’t respond. He simply walks to the wall and pushes the button that lowers the St. Andrews cross, then heads for the closet to gather the appropriate tools.
While he’s gone, I make my way to the table Aleksi lays on and begin to unzip the bag. My hands freeze when his face comes into view. His hard features are still apparent in his sedated state.
The face of the man who grabbed me makes my heart stop in my chest. I stare at the scar that’s haunted my dreams. A long jagged line cuts diagonally across his otherwise normal face.
I’d like to know the person that put the scar there. I want to ask them why they didn’t just stab him in the eye and kill him instead.
“We need to wake him up and question him,” I state while I lean over and hoist Aleksi over my shoulder. His body being in close proximity to mine, even for this, makes me feel like a thousand fire ants are crawling on my skin.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.