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“Describe him, and maybe I’ll spare your life.”
“I can’t, he wore glasses, and the club was dark. He mainly talked to Vladislav. But, he was American, that I know.”
“One last thing. I need you to call Vladislav. Tell him you need him immediately to come to this address.” I waited for him to pull his phone from his pocket, and then in my best Russian accent, I said, “Ya ponimayu po russki.”
“You speak Russian?”
“Da,so I will know if you try to betray me, and I will kill you instantly and then go after your wife and kid.”
With the phone on speaker, I listened as Vladislav picked up the phone, and Konstantin told him precisely what I said to tell him. Now all I had to do was wait.
When the Russian disconnected the phone, he asked, “I live now? I did as you wanted.”
Without remorse or hesitation, I pulled the trigger and smiled as his brains exited the back of his skull. “You shouldn’t have hurt my girl.” Then I laughed aloud.
Chapter Eleven
It’s Your Time To Die
I waitedas the black sedan pulled into the drive and the car door opened. A tall, lanky man with red hair exited, and I knew it was Vladislav. I hid in the dark as he walked through the door. “Konstantin?” he called as he entered the home. Without hearing an answer, he called out again and moved further into the house. When he entered the living room and saw his friend, he immediately drew his gun and started to proceed cautiously.
I watched from the dining room as he walked down the hall, stepping into each room and assessing the risk before moving on to the next. When he finally entered the living room again, he bent down and retrieved Konstantin’s wallet.It just goes to show there’s no honor amongst thieves.Taking the cash from his friend's wallet, he stuffed it into his pocket, tossing the empty billfold on the floor and turned to leave.
“I wouldn’t move another step if I were you,” I said as I pulled the slide on my revolver and loaded a round into the chamber. The sound filled the room, and Vladislav stopped in his tracks, turning to face the direction of the sound.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m the man who’s going to suck the life out of you if you don’t answer my questions the way I want.” Lightly shaking my gun, I directed Vlad to sit across from me in the dining room. “Tell me who hired you to assault the Wyatt woman.”
“Don’t know him. He said his name is Johnson, and he was paying very well in cash for a simple job. He said to mess up a house, so it looked like someone wanted something. Then he said to find the girl and handed me a picture. Said her brother worked for the CIA, and he wanted a message sent. Why you want to know this?”
“Describe the man.”
“Very hard to say for sure; it was dark.”
Sitting across from the man who hurt Evie was hard enough. I wanted to lunge across the table and rip his heart out of his chest. But I needed to know who hired him, or I’d be no closer to knowing if Evie was still in danger. “You better give me a description, or you are no use to me, and you’re going to find yourself next to your friend over there.”
“He was average, maybe five foot ten. He wore black-rimmed glasses and spoke with an East Coast accent. I think his hair was brown, but I’m not certain he wore a hat. That’s all I got. You all look alike.” Vlad laughed for a moment. “Oh yeah, there is one more thing. He had a small scar on his chin. Now, that’s all I got.”
I nodded and thought about how much I wanted to make this man suffer. With my revolver still pointed at him, I pulled the trigger and put a bullet in his shoulder. He called out in pain and stood, reaching for the small of his back. He was going for his gun, and I had to decide. Shoot him again with a non-fatal shot or go big and end his life. As much as I wanted him to pay, I didn’t have time to play around. Squeezing one more round off, I lodged the firing brass into the side of his neck, dropping him to the ground. Then I stood up, walked over to him, and spat on his chest. “The girl, the one you hurt. She is my girl. You never had a chance of walking out of here alive.” I knew he’d be dead in less than a minute, so I didn’t worry that he’d live to describe me to the cops when they showed up, after I made an anonymous call to the precinct. Even though the two douchebags didn’t deserve a funeral, the young woman did. Unfortunately, she was my collateral damage in this fucked up situation.
As I drove backto my house, something wasn’t adding up in the story. Why ransack Lucas’s home? According to Sawyer, he was dead, and the house would have already been a mess if the cops answered a B and E call. Plus, Evie never mentioned that the house was in disarray. My girl said Konstantin came from the hallway, and the only thing down the hallway were bedrooms and an office. That would mean that the Russian had to have been in the office looking for something or in the bathroom when Evie arrived. Had they just gotten there, or were they waiting for her? Someone was lying. Sawyer had told me that the agency found Lucas dead. He’d described the cover-up saying that the cops would think Lucas was away on business and none the wiser of his death.
I pulled down my driveway and into the garage. I put the car in park, killed the ignition, and then reached for the photo of Sawyer and the man in the hat. The man in the hat was short, possibly five foot five because Sawyer was close to six feet. So, the man in the hat in the picture and the man that showed up at the club were two different people. I was more confused than ever now.
The lights were off in the house when I entered. I knew Sawyer had gone because he texted earlier to say he had to run to the office to pick up some paperwork but would be back. Looking at my watch, he should have returned by now, but he was nowhere in sight. Pulling out my phone, I dialed his number. It rang several times, and then he picked up. “Hey, where are you?”
“I’m running late because I got some more information on Smoke and Fire, and I wanted to dig into it further before I returned. Sorry man, I lost track of time, and I’m not going to make it back tonight.”
“That’s fine. I’m here, and I’ll stay with Evie. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”
I climbed the stairs two at a time; the events of the evening left me feeling a little uneasy, and I needed to know that Evie was safe. The partially cracked door to her room afforded me a clear shot into where she lay. The television light filled the room, but she was sound asleep. Feeling confident that everything was okay, I decided to shower and change clothes.
The hot water started to ease away some of the pain that has stayed with me over the years. Between broken bones, gunshots, and few knife wounds there were days my body felt like it was a hundred years old. But the skin reddening hot water felt great at the end of the day. I stood under the water until it finally turned cold. Twisting the handle,
I stepped out of the shower, and grabbed two towels off the rack. One I wrapped around my waist, and the other I used to dry my hair.
I stood staring at myself in the mirror and admired the body I saw. I’d be thirty-five this year, even though I didn’t feel it right now. I was proud of the eight-pack I saw, even though a sizeable four-inch scar was the first thing you noticed. The round, puckered scar on my pec wasn’t as quickly seen but was still a constant reminder of Jalalabad and the shit show that went down during a targeted extract. If I turned around, you’d see several other scarred circles and a few knife wounds. I guess you could say I was lucky to still be alive.
