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“Look, I don’t have to answer to you. Not for free, anyway.”
I frown. “Are you serious right now?”
He shrugs unapologetically. “My services come at a price.”
With a huff, I reach into my jacket’s inner pocket and pull out my wallet. I slap a hefty chunk of rubles down on his lap. “Talk. What happened after you shot the place up?”
Olaf manages a dopy grin. The money has jogged his memory a bit. “Someone was there already. A woman.”
I furrow my brows. “A woman?”
He sneers. “Yeah, a woman. She was…” His eyes roll to the side.
I clap his cheek again. “Come on. Focus. Tell me about this woman. Was she the one who shot you with this?” I hold up his tranquilizer dart.
“That bitch,” he spits, his anger waking him up. “Kept asking us about Levitsky. We weren’t gonna tell her shit. And then she shot me!”
I grit my teeth. “Poor you. Tell me, what did she look like?”
Olaf sighs, eyes suddenly seeing through me rather than at me. I’m losing him, so I snap my fingers in front of his face.
“Concentrate,” I growl. “What did this woman look like?”
“Blue eyes,” he murmurs, brows knitting together as he thinks. “The prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”
For a moment, my heart seizes. No way. It couldn’t be. Lots of people have blue eyes. This means nothing, yet…
“I’m going to need more than that. How tall was she? What color was her hair?”
“Hair?” he echoes, voice getting all squeaky. Olaf’s face pinches up. “Short black hair.”
My shoulders deflate. Why did I let myself get my hopes up? What was I thinking? Of course it’s not her. She’s probably far, far away; in a different country, somewhere where she can be safe and away from all this madness. I can only pray she’s done the smart thing and forgotten all about me. Lord knows I’ve been trying to forget her.
“What else?” I ask Olaf, not easing up. “Did Levitsky ask you to meet him anywhere after? Did you have any other locations you and your men needed to hit?”
“Some place near the Lyublino District. A gambling den he wanted for himself.”
I clap Olaf on the shoulder and immediately snatch up the money I gave him.
“Wha—Hey!”
“You’ve been very helpful, friend.” Rising from my chair, I start toward the door. Boris gives me an uncertain glance.
“What do you want me to do with him?” he asks.
“Keep him alive for now. There’s no telling what else he might give us.”
Boris nods. “And if he has nothing left to say?”
I shrug. “Then I guess we have no need for him, hm?”
This grabs Olaf’s attention. “W-wait a second! No, there’s no need for that, alright? I tell you whatever you need to know. I’m not fucking dying for that prick. I’ve got a wife and kids to feed.”
I tilt my head to the side. I wonder how I can use this to my advantage. Now that I’ve got a songbird in my cage, what questions do I need to ask in order to make him sing?
“You’re a mercenary, right?” I ask.
“That’s right.”
