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“Exactly. We’re going to pay Igor Yaroslavsky a visit.”
Yaroslavsky ran prostitution and drugs, but a lot of his money came from a protection racket. He laundered the money through his legit businesses—car washes, refuse hauling, laundromats, and beauty salons.
I checked that my weapon had one in the pipe and de-cocked it.
Lucas stated the obvious. “Nobody goes in there alone. Winston will meet us. It’s pucker time, and I wish we had Brett along.”
I nodded. Lucas could handle any five men all by himself, so it said a lot that he wanted both me and Winston with him. “When’s Brett getting back?” Winston was a good man in a fight and a damned good shot, but there was nothing like having our brother, Brett, at our backs.
“Not soon enough, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Copy that.” I’d hoped Lucas had more info than I did since he’d been in Omega before Brett, but apparently not.
Brett had gotten the call from the secretary of defense himself, which could only mean Omega needed him. In our family, you didn’t say no when SECDEF called. Duty was a part of our DNA.
Mentally, I crossed my fingers that we’d get him back in one piece. It sucked not knowing where he was or what he was up against, but I understood operational security and hadn’t insulted him by asking about the op.
A few minutes later, we stopped in front of the restaurant, and Lucas made a call. “You ready?”
When he hung up, we got out, garnering our share of stares with the expensive car.
A pair of sketchy-looking kids walked up. “Nice car. We watch it for a hundred bucks.”
Lucas pointed a finger. “You’ll watch it for free.”
The taller of the two laughed.
“Anything happens to it, and you answer to Mr. Yaroslavsky.”
The kid stopped laughing and went pale. His buddy nodded.
Winston pulled up behind us.
“This car too,” Lucas instructed.
“The vehicle and plates are stolen,” Winston reported as we walked toward the door. “The car is still behind the restaurant.”
“Calm and cool,” Lucas said. “Let me do the talking. Winston, bring your ID?”
He smiled. “Sure thing.”
We followed the boss inside.
Lucas spoke in Russian to the lady who greeted us, though all I caught out of it wasLucas Hawk.
She scurried off, and two big goons emerged from the back—one with a buzz cut and the other with no neck. They were both packing. Buzz Cut had his in an obvious shoulder holster, and Idiot No Neck had a Glock tucked into the front of his pants, easy to reach, but also an easy way to shoot your own dick off since a Glock had no safety.
Buzz Cut spoke. “Mr. Yaroslavsky not here.”
“I’m Lucas Hawk. He’ll talk to me, or we’ll have a dozen FBI agents in here in sixty seconds flat.”
“You not cop,” Buzz Cut scoffed.
“He’s FBI.” Lucas thumbed in Winston’s direction, never taking his eyes off the two.
Winston flipped open his old FBI creds. He’d kept a copy for just such an occasion, and he still trimmed his hair and dressed like he was in the bureau.
Sweat appeared on No Neck’s forehead.
