“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I hang up and look at my bride-to-be. The call is a reminder of the emblem she represents, but I’m prevented from thinking of her as such when I detect the worry in her eyes for me.
“You’re going out at this time?”
“I have to.”
“What’s happening?”
“Go to sleep, Malyshka. This is where my world and yours don’t cross.”
I walk away but look back at her this time and wish I’d gotten to finish our conversation.
* * *
The old meat locker is the perfect place to interrogate a motherfucker because it has all the equipment ready for torture.
I’ve been using it for years for my own purposes. My father and brother use the standard dungeons under the building in the city that look more like police cells. I’m a little rawer than that, and old school.
I’d like my next victim to suffer in every sense, and I don’t think they deserve the benefit of a cell.
I walk inside. It looks like a scene from the movieSaw.
When I see my men standing around a battered-looking Tony sitting on a chair, I’m reminded I’m here for something much more sinister than a psychological horror. I’m the nightmare.
Eric is leaning against the wall near my senior team of guards with a phone in his hands he is looking through. José stands opposite him with that uncertain look on his face.
Sebastian looks like he’s been keeping my seat warm and moves away when I approach.
Tony lifts his head and looks at me. He knows who I am and knows I’m alive, so I decide to skip past all that icebreaker shit and get to the point.
I have very specific questions I need to ask him, and I’ve had all day to prepare myself.
“Tony, I’m going to spare you the grief of the bullshit and get to the point,” I begin. “Tell me who you’re working for.”
“I don’t know anything about who’s in charge.”
This is exactly what I hate about fuckers like these. I land a punch straight to his gut, and he doubles over only to receive another punch to his face.
I pull my gun out next so he understands I’m fucking serious, that I’ll kill his ass if he doesn’t tell me what I need to know.
“Fool, you are a fool. You really expect me to believe that?” I roar.
“It’s… true.” He coughs. “I swear to you I don’t know anything.”
I glance at Eric, who is staring at him with keen eyes.
“You met with Barabbas Ponteix this morning about the Dmitriyev Ltd. contract. What the fuck is that about?”
His eyes go wide, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. I’ve touched something I shouldn’t know about.
“The company. It’s about the shares in the company and the agreement on who gets what once the takeover happens.”
I grab his hair and hold his head up. “What fucking takeover? I never heard of any takeover, so, please, enlighten me.”
He starts shaking. “Barabbas belongs to a crime syndicate.”
“I know that part. What do they want?”
