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“Let’s find us some fucking Russians then,” he snarls, walking toward the apartment building and holding the door open for me. We take the stairs to the top floor, and along the hallway to apartment 42. It’s the home of Igor Nikitin, the only surviving member of Dmitry’s crew, and therefore, he’s the only remaining link we have to the guy from Balthazar’s bar who thought he recognized Jessie and called her Nataliya.
We reach the apartment door and I look at Shane, wondering if we’re going to knock. But he lifts his right leg and brings his steel toe-capped, size-ten boot crashing against the lock, causing the door to burst open.
“Way to make an entrance, bro,” I grin at him as we step into the hallway just in time to see Igor flying out of what I assume is the bathroom, with his pants around his ankles and his dick flailing in the air as he makes a run for the window. Shane reaches into my jacket pocket and takes out the screwdriver he knows I have in there before throwing it at Igor with a perfect aim. It strikes him on the back of the head, causing him to stumble against the wall and fall onto the floor with his ass in the air.
Walking further into the hallway, we haul him up and push him into the kitchen where Shane sits him down on a chair while I place my bag onto the counter and begin taking out some of the contents and placing them down.
Igor shouts in Russian and Shane punches him in the mouth, knocking out one of his teeth in the process and it clatters onto the tiled floor.
“If you don’t stop fucking screaming like a pussy, I will cut out your fucking tongue,” Shane snarls as he holds out his hand to me and I pass him a roll of duct tape. Our victim sees the tape and tries to jump up from the chair, earning him a swift kick in the nuts from Shane that brings tears to the Russian’s eyes and makes him gasp for breath while he tries to handle the pain.
Shane works quickly, strapping him to the chair, although Igor doesn’t make it easy for him. He struggles and lashes out while cursing in Russian. I could help out, but my older brother is more than capable of handling this guy alone, and besides, I enjoy watching him work. My turn will come soon enough.
Once Igor is securely bound, Shane pulls up a chair and sits directly in front of him. “I need information,” he barks. “Tell me what I need to know and we might let you walk out of here.”
“Fuck you!” Igor snarls, and then he spits a huge globule of saliva mixed with blood onto Shane’s face and I can’t help but smile. This is going to be fun.
Shane stands and takes a towel from the kitchen counter. He wipes his face before turning back to Igor, who is now eyeing him with a mixture of terror and anger in his eyes. Shane moves swiftly. Extending his hand, he takes hold of the tip of Igor’s ear, and then he tears it clean off his head. It’s a particular skill my older brother has that I’ve always been envious of.
The sudden and brutal loss of his ear causes Igor to open his mouth to howl in pain. But before the sound can come out, Shane stuffs the towel into his open mouth, muffling the noise and making Igor gag at the sudden intrusion.
As he tosses the now useless appendage onto the floor, Shane sits down again. “Shall we try this one more time?” he scowls at our captive, who nods his agreement as tears run down his face and blood from the gaping hole that was once his ear trickles down his neck, staining the collar of his pale blue shirt.
“The man who had his throat cut at Balthazar’s six weeks back. The one who survived and died in hospital. Did you know his name?”
Igor nods and Shane takes the towel from his mouth.
“Viktor,” he croaks.
“Who did Viktor work for?”
“For Dmitry.”
“Who else?”
“No one else,” Igor shakes his head.
“He recognized a friend of ours. Her name is Jessica, but he called her Nataliya. Do either of those names mean anything to you?”
“No.”
“Somebody visited Viktor in the hospital ten minutes before he died. Any idea who that was?”
“No.” His head moves vigorously from side to side as though his effort might convince us that he is telling the truth.
Shane runs his hand through his hair and lets out a long, deep sigh. “We don’t have fucking time for this,” he says as he stands up and turns to me. “You’re up.”
“About time,” I say as I turn to the counter and pick up the cordless drill and hammer. I have plenty more tools in my bag of tricks, but these are two of my favorites and they’re pretty effective when time is of the essence.
I move the chair out of the way and stand in front of Igor, who stares up at me, his eyes flickering between the weapons in each of my hands. “I don’t know anything,” he spits out as he shakes his head from side to side.
“Well, maybe you do and you just don’t realize it yet,” I say with a wink as I press the button on the drill and it whirs to life. The sound of trickling liquid onto the floor makes me glance down and I smile as I watch Igor pissing himself in fear.
One hour later, Igor lies on the floor of his kitchen with blood pouring from almost every part of his body. I was surprised by just how much pain he could take, but, I suppose when you’re covering for the head of the Bratva, you keep your mouth shut as long as you can. He is close to the end, but he clings on to life in desperation, because it’s human nature to fight death even when it stares us in the face.
I crouch down on my heels and lift his head by his hair, which is matted with blood. “Thank you for the information, Igor. We’ll make sure that Alexei learns exactly who betrayed him.” I smile at him as I watch the last spark of life flicker from behind his eyes before I stand up. Walking to the sink, I begin to wash his blood from my hands.
“I’ll call someone in to clean this up,” Shane says as he leans against the doorframe. “I wasn’t sure he had anything to tell us. You have a gift, Con.”
