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“The fuck is your problem?!” I demand, whipping him with the butt of the gun. I could just shoot him point-blank where I have him, but I need some fucking answers.
The lieutenant laughs. He fuckinglaughs. Blood trickles from his mouth and his eye starts to swell up pretty quickly, but he apparently finds something about this fucking hilarious.
“You can’t cheat Raizo!” he spits between chuckles. “You owe him a shit ton of money, you?—”
“Call your men off and I’ll talk with Raizo.” I cannot believe all this is over something so fucking stupid. Of course, there’s no way the Zakrevskyvorsin Sochi would just let fifty million slip away.
“It’s too late! You owe him way more than you can afford to pay!”
The attacks. The factory. The slaves.
This is about more than money and a few misunderstandings.
“Don’t worry,” he cackles. “I hear that pretty slut is going for even more now that there’s history.”
“The fuck did you say?!”
But I don’t wait for him to answer. I pistol-whip him again, then press the barrel to his head and pull the trigger.
I’m beyond pissed. The next man who lunges at me doesn’t get the swift dispatch of a bullet to his brain because I need to fucking obliterate something with my bare hands. I grab his gun and toss both of ours aside so I can beat his ass into a bloody pulp.
He gets a few hard blows in, I’ll give him that much. I feel a rib crack when he yanks me down and slams his knee up into my side at the same time. It only fuels my rage and I roar at him, tackling him to the ground to beat his face in until he stops moving.
A quick glance across the hangar tells me Tolya’s dealing with his own set of attackers, one of whom is stupid enough to try and take him barehanded as well. Tolya makes quick work snapping the man’s neck, but he doesn’t see the second one pull a gun from behind his back.
I don’t think; I just aim.
BANG.
The would-be shooter drops dead.
It’s a break in the chaos I need to take advantage of. Whether the Yakuza are regrouping or they’re all actually dead is not something I have the time or willpower to check on—I just need to get to the Hummer stashed away out back.
“Let’s go!”
Tolya falls in behind me, constantly checking our backs for any surprise shooters. “I think they’re regrouping,” he confirms.
“Let them. We won’t be here when they launch another attack.” I kick the back door open and breathe a sigh of relief. The Hummer is still under the tarp.
And the keys are still inside.
We waste no time loading ourselves in and firing it up. Just like I’ve always ordered, the tank is full and everything on the dashboard indicates it’s been maintained.
I don’t fuck with fate. Lady Luck has never really been an ally, so I always make sure to be prepared for the worst-case scenarios.
Tolya groans and wheezes as he buckles himself in. I quickly glance over at him and notice more than a few trails of blood on him. “You good?”
“Yeah,” he grimaces. “Just feel like I attracted more bullets than I dodged. Don’t worry about me, though. We need to get to Clara.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I floor the Hummer around the backyard of the hangar and burst out into what was definitely intended to be our second round of Yakuza hell. We catch them by surprise, however, and quiteliterally mow down a handful who were unfortunate enough to be in the way.
A few more bullets puncture the sides of the Hummer. I don’t try to retaliate. It’s going to take them more than a few minutes to collect themselves into vehicles and pursue us, and by then we’ll be well out of range.
I keep one eye on the road while syncing my phone to the Hummer’s system. The second it beeps confirmation, I hit Pavel’s name on speed dial. “Talk to me.”
“Good news or bad news first?”
