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I followed Jericho out the back door. It was my second time getting into a getaway car in an alley that night. I hoped it would be the last for the evening.
He drove a black Audi S6, the inside was red leather. The radio blasted country rock.
That surprised me. I stared at that giant man, and he shrugged with a small smile. “Your father wasn’t a huge country rock fan, either.”
Chapter 6
Alastair
Itallhappenedquickly.I watched as a large man came in from the alleyway, then into the bathroom after the Vixen and her girlfriend. I lurched to my feet, ready to go in after them, but Hugo laid a hand on my arm and held me back.
“That’s him. Brett. The man from Kapisa.” He said, his voice earnest.
I stared at where the enormous man had disappeared, narrowing my eyes. I didn’t like him.
“He’s with the government, at the very least. We cannot get involved. Not without calling back to headquarters.” Hugo reasoned.
Rose came out of the bathroom, sans girlfriend, a minute later. She was following the large man - Brett - out the back. Was this herfriendwho would help her escape?
Several black cars squealed into the front parking lot. She had to get out before the vehicle’s passengers emerged. But she looked back at me one last time.
My lips tilted up a little, then I winked at her. She returned my smile. That little gesture, the smallest tilt of her plump lips expressed thanks, regret, farewell, and a hundred other things.
She ducked her head and she andBrettran out the back before the men in black suits strode in.
“What’s your play?” Hugo asked, in a nonchalant way.
If I wanted to fight the obviously Russian men coming our way, Hugo would be fine with it. He’d fight anything, no matter how ridiculous the odds. That was the mark of a true French Legionnaire.
The man was ridiculously bored by the world, by conflict, and by fights. It made him the most amusing companion, if you liked dry wit.
I turned back to the front where the Ruskie bastards came in. The door rattled from their entrance and even the most drunk patrons sat up at their intrusion. They immediately started sweeping the area. I knew they were looking for my woman, but she was gone. Safe. I hoped.
The men went into the women’s restroom. I wondered if the girlfriend was still there, but I didn’t get up to check.
The Russians spoke to each other in that abominably bubbled, consonant, cluster-filled language.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Quinn said with his hands up in a placating gesture.
“Shut your mouth,” one of the henchmen said, his accent thick from their old country. His pock-marked face was hideous, his body thick and covered with a layer of fat that I’m sure got him through the cold Russian winters. “Or I will put a bullet in your head.”
That was when he went a step too far.
I stood and, with my hands in my pockets, I used the voice that I was born with.
“What do ye think ye are doing?” I thickened my voice into an Irish accent until it dripped like molasses. “Have ye lost yer marbles, Russian?”
Pock-mark pulled out a gun and pointed it at my forehead.
“Sit down,Suka!“ He commanded, calling me a bitch.
I grinned, and didn’t move. His insults were impotent little blows I could wipe off with a flick of my wrist.
There’s a time and a place when a man who straddles two worlds must exchange one mask for another. This was one of those times. I put away my British half, locking it away in my mind and with a strong Irish voice, I said, “This is an Irish bar in Irish territory. And I’mAlastair Green.”
The Russian looked confused. The name rang a bell, but he couldn’t place it. That was to be expected. I had bowed out of this life years ago, so the name and my face probably didn’t register for him.
“If you’re scratching that block of a skull of yours,” I said, amused by the difficulty the man had thinking. “You’re thinking of my uncle, thelateAlastair Green, head of the Irish mob. I was named after him. I’m sure you’ll remember him from the last time Russians invaded the Irish territories.”
