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“Think you boys are a little lost,” Slade said.
“Maybe you have a map for me?”
The man’s voice contained a very thick Russian accent.
Ah, fuck, Slade thought.
“I’ve got a map right here for you,” Priest said as he produced a gun.
Instantly, three of the four doors on the car flew open and men came rushing out. They were tall, built, dressed in black suits, guns already in their hands. That left Linc, Cyrus, Monte, Darrow, Fitz, and Deed no choice but to draw their weapons too.
The first car… same thing. Except all four doors opened. Now it was a standoff. Pretty clear that these men were from the Russian mafia.
“The President,” the man still in back seat said. “That’s not you.” He pointed to Slade. “Bring him to me.”
Slade glanced back at Cyrus.
“Fuck that,” Linc said. “You want to talk to us? You step the fuck out.”
“I believe we do have some business to handle,” Cyrus said. “Pretty sure I’ve seen one of these cars before.”
The man in the back seat stroked his chin. He muttered something in Russian and two of the men with guns took a formation that allowed him to get out of the car.
When the man stepped out, he adjusted his suit jacket and nodded to Slade. Nothing about this felt okay or right to Slade and nothing about this was going to end well. The man approached Cyrus.
“May we speak without weapons?”
“You tell your pets to drop theirs,” Linc called out.
“Pets,” the Russian man said with a smile. “Like dogs?Woof. Woof?”
“Who the fuck are you?” Cyrus asked. “You don’t know what happens to those who just roll up on us like this. We tend to get a little jumpy. Trigger happy.”
“I think you know about me. I think you’ve heard my name. Damien.Fyodor.”
The name ripped through Cyrus like a bullet. Everyone looking at Cyrus knew this was serious.
“Leader meets leader then,” Cyrus said. “You should have called. We could have cleaned the place up. Gotten some great vodka. Called up our best girls too. You’ve never seen or tasted pussy like we can get.”
“My tongue isn’t here for pleasure, Cyrus,” Damien said. “My tongue is here for speaking. For messaging.”
“Then why the bullets in one of our guys?” Linc asked. “That doesn’t go unpaid.”
“Correct,” Damien said.
He snapped his fingers and nodded to the man at his left. That man took three steps and grabbed one of the other men. He tossed him toward Cyrus.
“My gift,” Damien said. “Make it even.”
The sacrificed man began to scream in Russian. Cyrus nodded at Priest. Zero hesitation existed for Priest. He pulled the trigger on his gun, twice. Two bullets, just like Virus had received.
Priest chose the man’s left eye socket and the man’s stomach.
“Little bit harsh,” Damien said.
“You’re next, fucker,” Priest said.
Three men lunged for Priest. Cyrus had no choice but to rip the gun out of Priest’s hand before something really bad happened and he started an actual war. Monte and Darrow jumped into the fight.
