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And now here we are, not far from the entrance to the meeting spot. Since Crina couldn’t be seen going to his house, they’re meeting in a neutral place, an Armenian restaurant in Queens.
I scrape my clammy hand through my hair. Looking deep into her eyes, I warn her yet again, “The most important thing is your safety. If anything goes sideways, you get your ass out of there, you hear?”
She rolls her eyes. I take hold of her chin and give it a shake. Since Lucian, Anton, and Soren are in the car, I lean in close and whisper in her ear, “Otherwise, I will whip that ass while I punish-fuck you. You won’t sit right for a week, I guarantee you.”
She inhales sharply.
Patting her ass as a little reminder, I give her a searing kiss to remind her who she belongs to. I start the car and pull up to the entrance of the restaurant. Alexei’s men may recognize the car as belonging to the Lupu clan, but the windows are tinted. One last kiss and Crina sweeps out of the car. My heart lurches as I watch her walk away, her shoulders set with determination.
She enters the restaurant through the Armenian grocery store attached to it. The place looks full. Saturday morning is a busy market day, but she will be meeting him in the back of the restaurant before opening hours. I have a death grip on the steering wheel, and my stomach is shredding at the thought of her being alone with that fucker. An image of his face hovers in front of me. It galls me that I don’t remember him from that night, but God, do I want to kill him.
Focus.
I drive away and park a block away. Not too close, but close enough. I turn around and toss the keys to Soren. Soren may be a Lupu, but he’s become close to Anton. Don’t know where that came from, but it’s a new era between the Popescu and Lupu clans. Anton recommended him for the job of lookout and getaway driver, and he wouldn’t have taken that risk if he didn’t think Soren was worthy of the job.
I turn to Lucian and Anton and remind them, “Whatever happens, I get the kill.” I stare them down intently, one, then the other. “Even if I have to die to do it.”
Lucian huffs in irritation. “Marku, why you gotta be so dramatic? No one’s going to die besides Kotov.”
“I’m serious, Lucian, I want your word.”
“Jesus, why you gotta be a killjoy before the biggest hit of our lives.” He claps me on the shoulder. “This is going to be the best day of your life, not the last day of your life.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say as I get out of the car, checking my guns, extra clips, and knives. I figure if I can’t shoot him dead, I’ll gut him like a pig. In any case, that seems more fitting. The instant they join me, we jog lightly to the front door of the grocery. The place is packed with civilians, which helps us blend in. Alexei can’t have an army surrounding the place, and that gives us an entryway that would not normally be available. It also suggests that his guard is down.
One can only hope.
We enter the grocery store and casually browse the crowded aisles. Normally, young men would stick out, but there are a few older men shopping with their wives and the young-faced butcher in the back saves us from looking completely out of place.
We slip out one of the side doors leading into the reception area of the empty restaurant. My nerves are wound tight, but my senses are on high alert. Going on a hunt is a little like being high. Everything suddenly pops out at you in technicolor when daily life is black and white.
Stacks of halvah, wrapped in Saran wrap, are piled one on top of the other on the hostess’s wooden counter. I’m disgruntled to find that there isn’t a guard posted at the entrance to stop us. I’m itching to subdue or kill someone already. Alexei is being slack on security, which means he either sees Crina as helpless or he’s bought into her ruse that she’s here to connect with him.
We silently creep across the hardwood floor into the main reception area. It’s a huge, bare room filled with empty tables covered in crimson tablecloths and an overlay of folk, embroidered table runners. Two walls of glass join in one corner, framed with sheer curtains that keep out most of the late morning sunlight. The décor, especially the tacky gold-plated track lighting on the ceiling, reminds me of restaurants in the old country.
I’m locked in, zeroed in on the hunt. My gaze sweeps the empty space several times until I catch a small movement in the terrace garden enclosed by a tall wooden fence. Crina and the Bratva boss are sitting at an outside table. Through the glass, I watch Crina bring a glass to her lips and sip delicately as she nods intently at something he’s said.
I wipe my brow. Thank fuck, she’s alive.
As one, Lucian, Anton, and I quietly sidle along the wall toward the terrace. The bare brick scrapes my back, catching on to my shirt. Everything is going to plan. We should get close enough to kill him before he even realizes what’s happening. Suddenly, the door to the kitchen whips open.
A waiter waltzes out, holding a tray high in the air.
Behind him is one of Alexei’s bodyguards.
Everything slows down. The bodyguard’s eyebrows hit his forehead. His mouth opens to shout. I throw my hand up, clicking off the safety of my Glock, and aim at Alexei’s head. Just as I’m about to pull the trigger, Crina leans forward attentively.
She’s too close.
I shout at Crina to duck. The bodyguard shoves the waiter out of his way. The tray goes flying. Plates and food spin in the air and clatter to the floor. The bodyguard heaves forward, bellowing as he strives to reach us. Anton brings him down with a shot to the heart.
Hearing the commotion, Alexei seizes Crina by the hair. She takes hold of her hair, vainly fighting his grip. Without a moment’s hesitation, he whips out his gun and shoves the muzzle between her eyes.
Fuck!
Everything freezes in time. In that moment of stillness, I feel everything. The light breeze coming from the open door to the terrace, teasing me with a trace of Crina’s scent. The heavy rise and fall of my chest. The quivering of my arm muscles as I try to hold my gun steady. I have the indescribable sensation of the future colliding into me like a train. I stumble back into the brick wall as image after image assaults me. Lifting the veil off Crina’s face as she smiles up at me with tender eyes. My hands cradling her big belly as I cuddle her from behind. Tossing a little girl in the air, red pigtails flying as she screams, “Higher, Daddy, higher!”
The future is in my hands.
