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More insight as to why he owns the club. “It only does if you let it. If you do, then you die.”
I mean more than his brother. With his slow head bob, he understands what I imply. Any sadism toward my sister will end in his death too. I’ve always been forthright about that fact.
He returns to Chelsea’s room, grasping her leg like a lifeline. I work while waiting for my reinforcements, getting updates from my point people. Surprisingly, no major fall out from me being distracted. I dole out commands succinctly and rapidly in the limited time I’ve got.
Once my additional guards arrive, with orders to eliminate any threats to the girls, including Maxim if need be, I hustle downstairs and into my waiting vehicle. I access the cameras Ramos set up for me to observe my sister since I couldn’t be in her room as often as I liked.
Addie chats the entire ride while Maxim stares off into space like the dumb ass he is. If he’d kept a better eye on his brother all along, he wouldn’t be in this position. Zero sympathy.
At the house, I race straight to the torture chamber. Z and Ronnie wait outside, their parts complete until I summon them.
Inside, Kirill sits unharmed except for the bladed straps securing him to the chair. He greets me with a smirk. Arrogant bastard.
“You don’t look so good Gallo.”
I stride to him and shove my fist into his face so hard, he topples over from the force. I peer down at him as he grunts. “You don’t look so good yourself.”
I motion to the guys. “Get him up.”
My men bolt to him and set the chair legs back on the concrete. They step back waiting for their next job. Z rocks on his feet, anxious to start the torture. I’m not finished yet.
Red streams gush from Kirill’s nose to his mouth, and he laps at his lips like it’s syrup. “Ah memories.”
His sick chuckle makes me grin. If the taste of blood makes him happy, he’s going to be delirious very soon. “Your brother is on his way here to kill you.”
He purses his mouth and spits scarlet phlegm at my feet. “He doesn’t have the guts.”
“I too have the same doubts so I’m going to make sure you really do die.”
For the first time, actual fear flashes on his face.
“But not quite yet.”
I yank out my Glock and shove the tip into his shoulder. “This is for my wife.”
A bullet at close range does a shit load of damage. Obvious from his transition to screaming in Russian. No translator needed. I know what he’s saying.
I move my weapon to his other shoulder. “This is for my baby.”
Now he’s convulsing from the shock. I smile. So much satisfaction in his agony.
When I target his kneecap, he attempts to kick. Futile with the ties keeping him immobile. I let him waste what little time he has left fighting a losing battle.
After a few minutes, his body convulses, and he stiffens. Perfect. “This is for my sister.”
I pull the trigger and recoil from the nasty sound of the cartilage snapping. Kirill doesn’t seem to enjoy the noise either and heaves, vomiting on his lap. I wink at him. “I’m curious. Does the puke taste as good as the blood?”
He gurgles incoherently. Too bad. I guess I’ll never know.
I shrug. Time to move on. I want to get back to my fireball. I shoot his other patella. Interestingly enough, he doesn’t react to that damage as much as the others. I guess he’s worn out. “I don’t trust your brother to do the job either. But you’ll bleed out on your own in case he doesn’t. Until he gets here, these boys will enjoy keeping you company while you wait.”
I turn to Z. “Have your fun but keep him alive until Maxim gets here. Let me know once he’s dead.”
Z barely holds my gaze in his anticipation. His eyes skim over what’s left of Kirill to see what he gets to work with. Still a lot. He’s pleased.
Ronnie grabs a chair to watch the show. He’s satisfied too.
With them rewarded, I sprint back upstairs and climb into my SUV. Time to head back to my family.
