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“That’s all you’ve got for us?” Kristof demands, giving the man’s shoulder a shove.
“Th–Th–They spoke Russian!” the old man shouts in panic. “They were speaking Russian when they came in.” His accent grows thicker as he trembles uncontrollably, his thin body seeming to diminish in size with every question.
“Where can we find them?” Rasputin asks.
The man shakes his head, at a loss for an answer. “They did not do business with me. Only asked for that address and then left.”
“You don’t know where they went next?”
The old man shakes his head again, his shoulders sagging.
“They said they were going to Sub Terrain,” the younger woman pipes up from the back.
All eyes turn to her, and she swallows hard as she gains the unwanted attention.
“You have any other useful information?” Lenka demands.
She shakes her head, stepping back into the arms of the woman beside her.
“You'd better not be lying, because if I have to come back here, next time, I’ll be removing body parts,” Rasputin assures them.
With a jerk of his chin, he silently signals us, and we slip through the front door and out onto the sidewalk once more.
That’s about how the day goes as I shadow Sergio’s captain and his men. We jump from one business to the next, their tactics varying from casual questioning to violent interrogation based on how likely the suspect was to be involved.
And some aren’t so lucky as the older dry cleaner owner, who came away without a scratch. By the end of the day, we’re all wearing a considerable amount of blood. My knuckles are split and bloody from knocking in several men’s teeth. To hide my shaking hands, I keep them buried in my pockets.
For the first time, I saw firsthand the process that brought the Nezhit Bratva to its knees, the kind of manhunt that led the Sakharovs to my clan’s hideout and got my brother killed. Sergio’s men are like a dog with a bone, relentless in their efforts to find someone to hold responsible.
And as a traitor in their midst, I could very easily end up on the wrong side of their brutal interrogations.
It’s long past nightfall by the time Rasputin officially declares that our trail has run cold. We’ll try again tomorrow.
In the meantime, it’s my task to help Kristof clean up after our final suspect of the evening.
The guy didn’t make it.
25
ALINA
“You want some study popcorn?” Katie asks, hopping up from the couch where our books are spread out.
“Yes please,” I groan appreciatively, rising to join her.
It’s been nearly a month now since the start of our fall semester, and Katie and I have been hitting the books hard. So a break for snacks sounds like a brilliant idea to me. Boris joins us, rising from his position on the rug to follow us into the kitchen.
“I feel like my brain’s going to explode if I try to cram any more knowledge about the biology of disease into it,” I state, slumping against the counter and reaching down to scratch between his ears.
While classes are tough this semester, I can still appreciate the distraction school has become for me. With the new responsibilities my father has tasked Mishka with, I’ve been needing a lot of diversion lately.
He’s been keeping out until all hours of the night on a regular basis. He’s even left me hanging on several occasions because he can’t just ignore my father’s orders. It’s frustrating, but I get it. I know enough about the family business to realize Mishka doesn’t have much say in the matter.
Not to mention, he can’t just come out and tell them he has to leave because he has a date with Sergio Sakharov’s daughter. That’d be a sure way to end our secret meetings in a heartbeat.
“Seriously,” Katie agrees as she scoops popcorn into the popper and plugs it in. “Do they really expect us to know all this stuff once we leave school? I feel like that’s just unreasonable.”
I laugh, nodding.
