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“Probably is, but it’s on all the documents we could find. He should be in today. You can have a little chat with him, and I’ll wait outside if you want.”
“Come with me. I might need backup. Anatoly’s men are some nasty work, especially when they’re backed into a corner.”
Boris nods. “You’re right about that. We’ve been dealing with an increasing number of attacks in the past few weeks without you. I’m not going to lie to you, Pasha, Anatoly has gotten very bold.”
“He must be on a suicide mission,” I reply. “Taking Valerie was the wrong move. Everything else is replaceable, but she is essential.”
“I understand, sir. We’re going to get her back.”
“Damn right, we are,” I say, balling up my fist so hard that my knuckles pop. I want to punch someone, but I’ll have to wait until we find Johnny. Then, I’m letting fists fly. I don’t even care if he sings like a bird. I’m too pissed off to let him live.
The drive isn’t long because we’re already on the south side. My side of the city is much larger, but on Anatoly’s you can get across town in under twenty minutes. Half that if you’re riding with Boris.
Johnny’s dealership is a lonely gray building surrounded by a parking lot that has far more spaces than cars available. I doubtanyone actually shops here. It’s probably reserved for cars that Anatoly’s men can use.
Boris calls for more backup in case things go sour, but I doubt we’ll meet much resistance. I’ve never shown up on the south side like this, so Anatoly has never had much need for security.
I was under the false impression that leaving him alone was the solution, but doing so has come back to bite me in the ass. I should’ve killed him the moment he was cast out of the family.
“Should we wait for the others to arrive?” Boris asks as we park in front of the entrance.
“No, we take them by surprise,” I reply, already opening my door.
Boris follows my lead, retrieving a couple of machine guns from the trunk of the car and handing one to me. It’s heavy in my hands, loaded up with an extended magazine and bullets that will tear a man to shreds and keep going into the person behind him.
If anyone even tries to resist, they’re dead before they have a chance to scream.
I shoot the glass out of the front entrance, stepping through the flimsy metal frame with Boris close behind me. A woman shrieks from behind a reception desk, and I immediately swivel toward her, finger on the trigger.
She throws up her hands, a terrified expression plastered on her face. Her eyebrows are so high up on her head that they look like a second hairline.
Not a threat.
“Get out of here,” I tell her, motioning toward the door with my gun.
She makes a run for it as Boris and I continue through the lobby.
There aren’t very many people here, mostly random guys idling around in the hallway, drinking water from a cooler that looks like it was made in the nineties. I point my gun at them and they throw their hands up like the receptionist.
However, I’m not interested in sparing them. Johnny needs to know I’m not fucking around.
“Shoot them,” I order Boris as I continue down the hallway.
The men’s screams are cut off by a barrage of gunshots, and silence befalls the hallway again.
I can hear Boris’s heavy feet on the carpet behind me as he catches up. My eyes are focused in front of us, at the office at the end of the hallway. That’s where Johnny will be if he’s here. I want to catch him before he jumps out the window and escapes.
“We’re going straight in. No knocking,” I warn Boris as we approach the door.
He nods, leaning against the wall and checking our rear as I charge toward the door. If I test the knob, I risk alerting Johnny that we’re here and getting shot through the cheap particleboard. It’s less risky to break it down with my shoulder and catch him by surprise.
It’s almost disappointing how easily the door comes down as I slam into it. I was hoping for more of a challenge, but I guess I’ll have more of that when I go to face Anatoly. Here, there’s no resistance.
Johnny is sitting behind his desk with both hands wrapped around a small revolver when I barge in. He immediately throws his weapon to the side when he realizes he’s out-gunned, putting his hands up like all the other pussies we’ve dealt with so far.
“You’re Johnny, right?” I ask, searching his chest for a nametag.
He nods frantically. “Yeah, I’m… I’m Johnny. What do you want?”
