“But—” I try to step in, but Agafon holds up his hand.
“But nothing. Everyone is right. We must thank our allies.” He looks at the Orlovs and Zolotovs, “and must protect what we have. Lilibeth and Nikandr are safe. We will have our revenge…someday. The search must end, for now.”
No one argues. No one stands up for what I want. In anger, I throw back my chair and rise.
“Do what you all must,” I say coldly. “Just don’t expect me to sit around like you losers.”
“Ilariy…” Agafon warns, but I’m already heading for the door.
***
If our allies and my brothers want to pause this manhunt, let them. So far, we’ve sent our men out to hunt the new Sokolov leader and his family, but I know that if I hit the ground, I might find something they don’t.
While Viktor Sokolov was the one who took Lilibeth and ruins my brother Nikandr’s life, I know he couldn’t have done it without his cousins’ help. Viktor might be dead, but the other culprits still live, and I intend to find them.
I step outside and am met by the cold New York winter air. The night is just beginning, and I’m going to hunt until the sun comes up. One of the guards motions at my security detail, but I wave them off.
“I’m heading out alone,” I tell my driver and take the car keys.
Once in the car, I put in the location for Dirty Goose. The liquor shop acts as just a front, but once you give the passcode, you’re led behind and down into a gentleman’s club known by few, but all who matter.
It’s not exactly friendly territory, but it’s not hostile either. It’s the perfect place to pick up information.
As I drive, I can’t stop thinking about Nikandr. My brother used to be the life of every party; Always quick to laugh and fight, but loyal to a fault. Now he’s just a shell, and it’s all because of the Sokolovs.
Their old boss exhibited a particular kind of cruelty, but the cousins are cut from the same cloth. The new leader, Tikhon, is the oldest, alongside Andrei and Alexey.
And they’re all equally guilty in my book.
They also have a sister. I have a brief folder on her, but I never cared to learn more than her name and face. It’s her brothers I’m truly after.
I park just behind Dirty Goose, in one of the spots reserved for regulars. The Dirty Goose’s gentleman’s club is a spot I frequent regularly. Always fun, always promising a night of debauchery.
I walk up to the liquor shop and see it’s busy tonight with a large line outside the cash register. I enter and walk straight to the back, where I see the door stating, “employees only”.
I nod to the bouncer, and he recognizes me and lets me right through.
Inside, there are dusty bottles lining the walls. An old man sits on a little stool and looks up from his paper when he hears me enter the small storage room.
“I’m here to sample the back catalog,” I say.
He presses a button under the counter. A section of the back wall slides open, revealing a narrow staircase.
I climb down to the underground club and can hear the low hints of music growing louder the deeper I go. When I push through the door at the bottom, I’m hit with the familiar smell of nightclubs: liquor, cigars, and subtle hints of perfume.
This isn’t a flashy kind of club. It’s the kind where everyone looks like old money. The men are all well-dressed, cufflinks intact, huddled around private booths. There are beautiful women in every direction, dressed in silks and diamonds. Some wives, some mistresses, some escorts. The thing is, no one asks questions out here.
It’s a place to let loose and not judge. That’s why I love coming here.
But tonight, I’m not here for fun. The women, however beautiful, cannot distract me from my mission. I’m going to get a drink, start chatting, and ask around for news on the new Sokolov leaders. There must be someone here who knows something, since the clientele is mostly Bratva and people in various positions within different organizations.
I make my way to the bar, nodding to people I recognize. I order a neat vodka and find a stool with a good view of the room.
For around fifteen minutes, I watch and listen, picking up snippets of conversation. There’s some talk about the Italians moving in on someone’s territory down south. Whispers about apolice captain willing to be bribed. But there’s nothing about the Sokolovs, though.
I’m about to stand and walk around the room to pull people into conversations, to see if I can get someone to slip up, when the door opens and I notice the Kuznetsov crew enter.
I sit back down and watch with narrowed eyes. They aren’t exactly enemies, but they’re definitely not friends. They’ve been trying to expand their territory for years, sometimes edging into ours. In fact, once upon a time, they ran with Viktor Sokolov, and I decide to keep my eye on them, wondering if I could use them as bait to lure out Tikhon and his brothers.
