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So he was. As if I needed additional confirmation they’d been behind the warehouse fire. The group might be well armed, but they were no match for our numbers or expertise.

The president was still in the corner of the room by the bar, drink in hand while he surveyed the scene.

Rocky wasn’t cowering, but he glared at me skeptically and with some surprise. I walked closer, studying him. There were no biker chains or a leather vest, just a man in jeans and a sweater given the cool evening.

“Maxsim Aristov. I was warned about you.” He shoved the bottle closer to me. “Would you like a drink?”

“Maybe later. You have me curious. By whom?” My anger had reached a new level. While on the outside I appeared calm, inside was a different story. Spots of blood had already formed in front of my eyes.

He laughed. “By almost everyone. What the fuck do you want?”

I cocked my head, studying him carefully. “Isn’t that obvious? Revenge.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I think I do.” I pointed the barrel of my weapon toward his face. “You fucked with the wrong man, Rocky. Not once or even twice. But three times and you know what they say, three times is a charm. Where is Gunner?”

“Who?”

Now I was at the point of losing control. “Where?”

“Fuck off.”

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Three bullets were excessive, but I just didn’t give a shit. I’d find the fucker on my own.

I spun on my heel, surveying the room.

With the rage keeping me on a sharp precipice, I moved through the broken and fallen men, getting more and more frustrated from not being able to find the one man I’d envisioned for two months.

“Where the fuck is he?” My voice was louder than before as my control continued to unravel.

“We’ll find him, Pakhan,” Mario insisted.

“You damn well better.”

I continued walking over one soldier then another in my search.

“We got him,” Kristoff called from the open back door.

As I stormed outside, I checked my ammunition in the Glock then pulled out the knife instead. This needed to be very personal.

The bald man had been pinned to a tree, held by two of my men. With the garish Christmas lights hung low in several trees, additional light wasn’t needed.

I slowed my steps as I approached, studying the son of a bitch as I did. He was huge just as Isabel had described. This time his physique wasn’t augmented with a suit, his attire suggesting a long-time biker.

“You must be Gunner.”

His response was to spit on the ground then grin. I took a deep breath, curtailing my immediate reaction, which of course was deadly.

“Do you have anything to say to me?”

“About what?” With the two words, I was able to detect a slight accent. While I was no expert in dialects, I would say Romanian. There’d been an influx of immigrants from Romania over the years. “How about this. Russians are pigs.”

If I was expecting an apology, I was out of my freaking mind. I didn’t hesitate, driving the cold, hard blade into his gut and jerking it upward.

Blood bubbled to his lips only seconds later. “Oink. Oink.”