I want answers. This little prick has me worried. Is he a snitch or maybe even a cop? I know my father well enough to know he wouldn’t sanction killing a DEA agent. I hope like hell we haven’t underestimated this guy.
“You fucking bitch!” he sputters, shaking his head like a dog who got caught in the rain and sending a shower of coffee through the air. His indignation is quickly replaced by a surprisingly dignified, caustic anger.
I shake my head no in Oleg’s direction when I see the fire in his eyes and his hand lifts to knock the man’s teeth down his throat. I step toward Miguelito, stopping a few feet in front of him.
“You’re right, of course,” I say softly as I begin to slowly circle him, and he frowns warily. “I am indeed a bitch—a cold hearted, cold blooded bitch. But you’re the one tied up in a chair.” From behind him, I lean down and whisper close to his ear. “Last time I checked, that would make you my bitch. In light of that information you’d do well to stay on my good side.”
I straighten and nod at Anastasia. “Why don’t you introduce us to our friend here?”
She’s been going through his wallet and begins to read off the information from his I.D.
“Miguel Jorge Sanchez.” She continues calling out the same address as the woman we’ve been watching.
“I wonder if that woman of yours knows you’re an informant for the DEA? In fact…I wonder if your homeboys know you’ve been snitching on them.”
Oleg is shaking his head at the guy like he can’t believe he’s stupid enough to think he can play both sides of the fence. I walk around to stand in front of the chair and cross my arms over my chest.
“You think you’ve got everybody fooled – everybody except us. Your girlfriend thinks you love her; your gang thinks you’re down for them; and the cops? Who knows what the hell they think. You could use a friend right now. Maybe I can be your friend. Let’s start by you telling me what the hell you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in.”
Up until now, Miguelito hasn’t been anything but a nickel and dime drug dealer with connections to pilots who frequent several key Venezuelan airstrips. Seeing him talking to the DEA has me wondering if this guy is going to be more trouble than we thought.
Chapter Fifty One
Oleg
“I’m not telling you shit.”
I grab a handful of his greasy hair and viciously yank his head back. “The way I see it, you need to give me any information I want. So let’s get right to it. Are you a cop?”
“If I am, you guys are in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
I release his hair with a shove, saying contemptuously, “You underestimate me if you think what I want is as simple as your death. Although the idea of killing you here and now for the pure pleasure of it is appealing, there are more important issues at stake than my personal gratification.”
“Fuck you,” he hisses with a snarl, but his eyes betray the fear that’s fast taking hold inside his head. Still, it will take some effort to break this guy’s spirit.
I cut my eyes at Dmitriy. “Gag him but don’t blindfold him,” I say, raising my voice on the last few words in order to be heard over our guest’s screams.
“Man, please don’t leave me here in the dark.”
“Oh, don’t worry you won’t be alone, my friend. I’m calling in The Tenderizer.”
“What the fuck is a tenderizer?” The panic in his voice is obvious.
I ignore his question and turn my attention to Dmitriy. “We’ll meet you two out in the SUV.”
I turn to leave before the man can say anything else and the last sound I hear is the gratifying tearing of duct tape just before Anastasia seals it over Miguel’s mouth. His muffled screams soothe my soul and send a wave of calm through me as we approach the SUV.
Roksana waits to speak until we’re settled in the vehicle to wait for Dmitriy and Anastasia. “This shit just got complicated. It isn’t like we’re dealing with some punk street gang anymore. The potential for the DEA being involved with this guy? That changes everything.”
“That’s why we have to get your father involved. The decisions that need to be made right now are far beyond my pay grade.” Even though what I’m saying is true, it isn’t just about money, it’s about respect. I would never make decisions that involve law enforcement agencies. Making the wrong call could bring the whole organization down. It’s not my place to decide how to deal with this cluster-fuck of a mess.
The timing couldn’t be worse. If we weren’t looking at going somewhat legit, we could just kill the guy and be done with it. Or we could turn him over to his homeboys and let them kill him for being a snitch, but if I know the Pakhan he’s going to see things in a different light. In situations like that I’m not going to second guess him and make a decision that can come back to bite me in the ass.
The rear doors open and Dmitriy and Anastasia climb in.
“Everything in order?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah,” Dmitriy chuckles. “We left him in good hands.”
“Horosho.” I give him a curt nod as our eyes meet in the rearview mirror. Dmitriy is, in my opinion, an unsung Bratva hero, always in the background, always to be counted on.
It isn’t just the deep respect and more than a little fear that my boss inspires in his people that prompt me to be careful. It’s the fact that I will soon marry his only daughter -- the only woman for me -- and I’m not about to do anything to jeopardize our future together. Glazov isn’t above using my love for his daughter to manipulate me to his purpose. It’s all about control for him and he’ll do anything to get it and keep it—as well he should.
Oleg
“Sir…” I wait for the Pakhan to acknowledge me before I continue.
Glazov looks up from his laptop, his assessing gaze taking in my posture and facial expression, coming to his own conclusions about the reason for my visit.
“You’re troubled, son. Why?”
“You asked me to keep you up to date on the surveillance…”
He raises the sardonic brow of a man who’s losing his patience. “Yes, I did. Get to the point.”
“Yeah, get to the point,” Novak chimes in.
“Fuck you, Novak,” I mutter before I realize I’ve spoken.
“Boys, play nice,” Glazov drawls, rolling his eyes.
“It seems one of the men we’ve been following is either working with the DEA or he could possibly be an agent. I doubt he’s an agent, he’s too young, but at the very least he’s an informant. We observed him with a known DEA agent tonight in the alley behind the strip club he frequents.”
“And since you’re concerned enough to bring this to my attention, I’m assuming this agent isn’t on our payroll?”
“No, sir, he isn’t.”
“And this…” Glazov moves his hand in the air as if he’s trying to bring the man’s name to remembrance.
“Miguel Sanchez,” I offer.
“Yes, and this Miguel is the one who’s running his drug business from the same Venezuelan airstrips the diamond forgers are using?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Such stupidity. Where is he now?”
“We have him tied up in the warehouse. He’s spending some quality time with The Tenderizer.”
Glazov leans back in his chair and interlocks his fingers behind his neck, a hum of satisfaction escaping his lips as he locks eyes with Novak. “Oleg, go back to the warehouse and oversee the efforts to make him talk. If the shipment of diamonds wasn’t a fluke, then this guy’s insignificant. All I need him for is to tell us who he takes his orders from. I want a name, Oleg. Then I will know who my enemy is.”
“Yes, Pakhan.”
With a curt nod, Glazov turns back to his laptop and I am dismissed. I’m reaching for the door knob when his ominous voice stops me in my tracks.
“Oh, and Oleg?”
“Yes, sir,” I reply as I turn back to face him. For just a moment, his eyes look as dead as mine, conveying his single-minded, unemotional c
ommitment to the task at hand.
“Don’t come back without that name. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Pakhan.”
Chapter Fifty Two
Anastasia
This is not how I expected things to go. When you’ve got drug dealers being killed on the streets, law enforcement is going to see it as just another gangbanging dope slinger they don’t have to worry about anymore. Ultimately it probably makes their job a little easier. But when one of their informants is killed, that changes things. Even worse, if we take out an undercover agent, it would present a whole new set of problems for us.
The Pakhan wasn’t joking when he told Oleg not to return without a name. As Oleg looked from Dmitriy to me and, finally, to Roksana, those dead eyes revealed an unflinching acceptance of his fate…whatever that may be.
Roksana
When my father tells Oleg not to return without the name of the person causing all the interference in the Pakhan’s plans, we don’t waste any time. Anyone else would expect Oleg to receive special treatment because he will soon be the son-in-law of the Pakhan but I know that, if anything, my father’s harder on him. He has plans for Oleg’s future and he wants his reputation among our people to be iron-clad.
All my father succeeded in doing is motivate a man who is already deeply devoted to the cause. Maybe that’s why my father applied such personal pressure. I shake my head to clear my thoughts; speculating on my father’s motives is a waste of time. If he wants names, The Tenderizer will get him names.
The Tenderizer is something of a Bratva legend. Hell, I don’t even know his real name. That’s how much the Pakhan values The Tenderizer’s unique skills; they’re only brought out on special occasions.
Chapter Fifty Three
Anastasia
When we enter the warehouse I see a stranger who, at first glance, could be anything from a member of Glazov’s housekeeping staff to maybe one of the tradesmen he employs to maintain the Bratva properties. This must be the infamous Tenderizer. Thin, black hair is cut short and combed straight back in a severe, conservative style. His five o’clock shadow looks more like a sloppy accident instead of the sexy look some men go for. A ratty blue t-shirt completes the look.
And then there’s Miguel. No longer the cocky asshole who mouthed off to Roksana only hours earlier, he is a bloodied, battered shadow of his former self. His naked body is tied with thin wire to a wooden chair. He stinks of shit, sweat and urine. His nose is crusted with dark red blood, his upper lip is split and swollen. Both eyes are swollen shut and discolored with bruising.
The Tenderizer slowly swings a rebar back and forth. It must be his tool of choice and might explain the wounds on Miguel’s belly and thighs. His chest is a different story altogether. It’s peppered with small, shallow slices that resemble paper cuts. They would seem innocuous enough if the smell of rubbing alcohol wasn’t pungent in the air. Shit, that had to hurt.
The black-haired man approaches Oleg serenely, casually wiping his bloody hands on a rag like a mechanic who just finished an oil change. His voice is low and melodious as he speaks to Oleg.
“He’s ready for you now. Want me to stick around or are we done here?”
“Give us a minute. Thanks, T.”
‘T’ strolls off to his portable worktable and gathers his tools. He begins wiping them down, glancing over periodically as Oleg stands in front of Miguel.
“So,” Oleg murmurs in a voice barely audible to anyone but the man in the chair, “you have had some time to think. What do you have for the Pakhan?”
“Reinaldo Ruiz,” he gasps, sucking in a breath but stopping short, probably because of some broken ribs compliments of The Tenderizer. He starts over on a shallow breath, every word an agonizing effort. “Reinaldo Ruiz…is the man you want. He…was unaware of Glazov’s interest at first, wanted to retire and thought the one job would set him up, but…after he was successful and got the diamonds, he got cocky…Thought he could cover his tracks…not get caught.”
His head hangs in exhaustion but he takes a long, rattling breath and continues, as if opening up will somehow save his life. I, for one, am fascinated with his story and hope Oleg will let him live a little longer so I can hear it all.
“Now Ruiz wants to be the king of blood diamonds. I think he thought the Pakhan wouldn’t see a conflict since blood diamonds didn’t interest him. He’s small-time, has no backing. And he’s naïve,” he says with a laugh that quickly becomes a coughing fit. “He’s planning to set up a small shop downtown. He’s just a foolish man who wants to retire on the backs of the poor and their children who mine diamonds for their survival.”
He looks up at Oleg in desperation. “I’ve given you what you asked for, amigo. I’ve given you…everything I have. Isn’t that worth something?”
“Too little, too late,” Oleg growls and reveals the length of wire that he’s been holding the whole time. He circles Miguel and comes to a stop directly behind him. As Oleg lowers the wire in front of the guy’s face, Miguel begins to shriek and writhe, nearly knocking the chair over. Oleg nods at The Tenderizer and points at an object on his work table. Without further urging, ‘T’ selects a tire iron and ambles over to hold the chair still.
As Oleg yanks the wire back, he catches Miguel’s neck and quickly wraps the ends of the wire around the tire iron. As he begins methodically turning the tire iron, tightening the wire around Miguel’s neck, he meets Roksana’s heated stare with his own. As a small smile plays on her lips, his cold, dead eyes seem to be lit from within. She lifts her chin on a small gasp, not bothering to hide her pleasure at her lover’s show of dominance and power. All the while, his eyes never leave her.
As I stand off to the side with Dmitriy, I look back and forth between them and feel like we’re spectators at a particularly sadistic tennis match. The raw sexual dynamic between those two is unlike anything I’ve ever encountered before. And Oleg’s nowhere near finished with this guy.
Miguel’s eyes are soon bulging, the whites of his eyes turning pink, then a gruesome, bloody red as capillaries begin to burst. His legs attempt to kick out but movement is limited since his limbs are secured to the chair legs. His frantic efforts seem to agitate Oleg, who twists the wire faster and harder. I’m starting to wonder if he intends to decapitate this guy, which seems like overkill to me, but to each his own.
Abruptly, all fight leaves Miguel’s body and he slumps in the chair, lifeless. Oleg gives the body a final shove, sending Miguel and the chair crashing to the floor. He steps over the mess toward Roksana. When he reaches her, she clasps his hands in hers, stroking his skin reverently before placing a kiss in the palm of each massive hand.
The Glazovs may want to go legitimate but it doesn’t change the fact that their legacy will be forever built on blood.
Chapter Fifty Four
Oleg
This time the women aren’t invited. The Pakhan is as progressive as they come when it comes to valuing the contributions of women…but tonight he will neutralize his enemy, man to man.
Glazov, Novak, and I are paying an unexpected visit to the home of Reinaldo Ruiz…the ‘blood diamond king’ – at least, according to Miguel. No doubt Ruiz is safely tucked in for the night, dreaming of the millions he’ll make from the blood, sweat and tears of the less fortunate. Little does he know that I am bringing a nightmare to his doorstep.
I glance in the rearview mirror and see Glazov and Novak looking out the bulletproof windows, each caught up in his own thoughts. I wonder if a man will die tonight. The Pakhan is dealing with this situation personally, and he won’t shy away from murder if it is called for.
It’s an unspoken rule that we protect our leader from being connected to any criminal activity. We go out of our way to be the hand that dispenses his retribution, but ultimately it is his decision. To question his judgment could easily be taken as disrespect and have dire consequences. Even though I know this I can’t help wanting to protect him.
“Sir, wi
th all due respect…
His only response is to raise a hand, shake his head and reply, “No worries, Oleg. It is as it must be.”
Novak’s voice cuts through the darkness and I brace for his typical sarcastic input. Much to my surprise, he takes a different tact and is almost…civil.
“I fuck with you a lot, Oleg. Hell, I fuck with everybody and I make no secret of the fact that I enjoy every minute of it. But we all see how committed you are to Glazov, how deep your loyalty runs. That goes a long way with me.”
I crack a semblance of a smile as I brace for the punchline. “Where’s all this coming from, man?”
He’s not kidding around. “I’m just saying, I’ve got your back. I’ll be the first there for you when the shit hits the fan.”
“Same here. Bratva is everything to me.”
Novak dips his chin, acknowledging my words solemnly. “Of course, tomorrow morning I’ll be back busting your balls.”
“I have no doubt.”
Glazov gives us our orders as we pull in front of Ruiz’s house. “Okay, enough of this touchy feely crap. It’s time to put your game face on. Novak, do a sweep of the outside and see what kind of security system we’re dealing with. I hate doing this shit without reconnaissance first, but there’s no time.”
“You got it.” He quietly opens the door and makes sure not to slam it after he gets out. It doesn’t take long for him to return with good news. “You won’t believe this. The fucker doesn’t have security. No system, no goons, nothing.”
Glazov scowls and mutters, “That Miguel was right, this guy really is out of his depth. What the fuck is he thinking, trying something like this? Let’s not get complacent, gentlemen. We still don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
We get out of the car and slink around the side of the house to a back door that leads to a laundry room. The house is older than I would expect for a man who aspires to rule the blood diamond industry.
Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) Page 19
