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Giulio’s mouth curved as he ordered everyone to keep out of sight, behind the door. A few minutes later, the metal creaked open and a guy with a gun emerged. Benito pounced. He yanked the Russian out into the alley, snapped his neck, and dropped him. Giulio was already through the door and into the strip club. Cursing, I followed, wishing he’d let me go first.
Music from the front echoed in the hall. A half-naked woman appeared and she squeaked when she saw us. Giulio put his finger to his lips and held out a stack of money. In Spanish, he asked if Golubev was here. She pointed to a hallway on the other side and held up three fingers. Third door.
Giulio thanked her and told her to stay hidden. We made our way to the correct door. Benito kicked it in and again I was forced to follow. I didn’t like it, but this wasn’t the time to argue.
The room was a private VIP suite, the kind with long leather benches and soft couches. The lighting was dark, but there was no problem seeing Golubev fucking some girl on one of the couches. Three of his men were there, too, each with a woman. Drugs, money and booze were scattered on the tables. As I predicted, they were celebrating.
The girls began screaming as shots rang out. Two of Golubev’s men went down quickly, and the third was just reaching for his weapon when I shot him between the eyes. Benito went to shoot Golubev and Giulio stopped him, shouting in Italian, “Aspetta!”
The girl scrambled off Golubev’s dick and hurried out of the room. I approached the Russian, gun drawn to keep him in place. Giulio probably wanted to question Golubev on how he’d learned of the storage units. Smart.
Giulio ordered the rest of the men to deal with any of Golubev’s soldiers. This left Benito, Giulio and me alone with Golubev. I remained perfectly still, my aim steady.
“You stupid fuck,” Giulio said as he stepped forward. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”
Golubev sneered and said in Russian, “Have you come to see a real dick?” He tacked on a slur for a gay man, one that made me clutch my pistol tighter. Obviously he thought Giulio wouldn’t understand.
“What did he say, Alessio?”
Never taking my gun off Golubev’s head, I translated into Italian—including the slur. Giulio shook his head at the Russian man and repeated, “You stupid fuck.”
Golubev hid his surprise well. “You have started a war by coming here.”
“No, I haven’t.” Giulio lowered himself onto one of the leather benches. He appeared totally at ease, much as he had with Nikolai. “You don’t have as many friends in Moscow as you think you do.”
A crack broke through Golubev’s smug expression. “You know nothing of this, Italian.”
“I know that you fucked Volkov’s sister, and that’s why you were sent to Spain ten years ago. He doesn’t have very nice things to say about you, by the way.”
Yuri Volkov was the head of the Bratva back in the motherland. I wondered when Giulio had learned all of this.
“Put your dick away,” Giulio ordered with a wave of his fingers. “It’s making me sick just looking at it.”
Golubev tucked his cock back in his pants but didn’t button them. “That isn’t what I hear.”
A violent hatred flared in my belly. I wanted to hurt this man badly. I could do it so easily, too.
It must’ve shown on my face, because in Italian, Giulio said, “Patience, assassino.”
I forced myself to relax.
“Now,” Giulio said. “Tell me how you found out about my storage locations.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Golubev said.
“Wrong answer. Trust me, you are going to want to tell me.”
“Do you think I am scared of you? A man that has been run out of Italy because he likes to take it up the ass?”
“Ma dai, you are a fool,” Benito said.
Giulio didn’t flinch. “If you don’t tell me, I am going to ask Alessio to hurt you. He’s dying to make you suffer. Can’t you see it on his face? I wonder what he will do first . . . .”
“Is he a fairy, too?”
“Last chance, Golubev. Tell me how you found out.”
“Fuck you,” the Russian spat, adding on the gay slur once more.
