by G. K. Parks
The gate opened. Finally. I bounced on the balls of my feet, preparing to intercept him the moment he stepped foot on the sidewalk. But he didn’t walk through the gate. Instead, a grey-haired woman and her bearded schnauzer did.
The schnauzer strained against the leash, eager to go on his morning walk. But once he made it to the curb, he stopped. His ears perked up, and he stood as still as a statue. A deep growl emanated from within his taut body, and he bared his teeth.
“Buddy, you stop that right now.” She whacked the pooch on the backside with the newspaper. “Where are your manners?” She offered me an apologetic smile. “He never does that. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“It’s quite all right. Dogs usually like me.” I crouched down for the dog to sniff my hand.
But Buddy didn’t budge. His ears flattened against his skull, and his sharp eyes zeroed in on something in the distance. He let out a deep, warning bark.
“Quiet, Buddy.” The lady tugged on the leash, but the dog didn’t move. She scooped him into her arms and carried him past me. The dog’s eyes remained on a fixed point as he continued to growl.
I turned to see what had caused the animal’s unease. At first, I didn’t see anything. The morning mist mixed with plumes of exhaust limited visibility, but as the icy vapor dissipated, I spotted two men in dark overcoats at the bus stop. One of them carried a shiny metal briefcase, and the other had what appeared to be a golf club inside a sealed duffel bag. At least I hoped it was a golf club. The only other option was a long gun, possibly a sniper rifle, which didn’t bode well for my client or me.
Taking another careful sip of the nearly scalding liquid, I returned to the coffee cart and pretended to study the menu while keeping one eye on the two men. I recognized them from the club last night. They were Vasili’s enforcers. Did they follow me?
I hadn’t noticed anyone outside the police station, but that didn’t mean anything. I’d missed a lot lately. Trusting my instincts and skills had failed me, resulting in Svetlana becoming an unnecessary casualty.
Part of me wanted nothing more than to go over there and even the score, but that would be stupid. Right now, I had to be smart. Everything from their cold weather gear to the bags they carried told me they were already here when I arrived.
“Are you gonna stand around all day and stare, or are you actually gonna order something else, mister?” the guy at the coffee cart asked. “I got other customers in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Right. Sorry. Give me a number six.” I pocketed a few napkins, watching as the bus rumbled down the street. The man held the brown paper bag in front of my face, shaking it for emphasis. I grabbed it and handed him a twenty. “Keep the change.”
The airbrakes exhaled, and the bus lurched to a stop in front of the Plexiglas structure. The doors opened, and a cluster of waiting passengers formed a line. The Russians remained seated, their noses and cheeks rosy pink. I was right. They’d been here a while and had no intention of leaving. The only question remaining was if they were sent to keep an eye on me or Knox.
Several people exited from the rear of the bus, blocking my view, so I headed toward a nearby trashcan. I couldn’t lose sight of them. Doing so would be detrimental to someone’s health, probably mine.
The crowd moved past. The line for those boarding continued to grow, but neither of the enforcers made any attempt to join the early morning commuters. I decided it’d be best to wait them out, at least for now. I’d make a move only if they made one first.
With nothing else to do, I pulled my sesame bagel out of the bag and took a bite. The toasty exterior was perfectly offset by the cool chunk of cream cheese sandwiched in the middle. I swallowed and wiped my mouth, barely remembering to chew. Damn, I was hungry.
My attention remained split between the Russians across the street and the metal gate behind me. Where was Knox? Perhaps, under these circumstances, it’d be best if I went to him.
For a moment, I was distracted by thoughts of classic cartoons I’d watched as a kid. This must have been how the moose and squirrel felt watching the two spies, except these Russians weren’t watching me back. As far as I could tell, they hadn’t even noticed me. That meant they had to be here for Knox. I just didn’t know why.
Tossing the brown paper bag into the trash, I searched for a better vantage point to stake out Trey Knox’s house, away from the prying eyes of Vasili’s men. I had to spot Knox before they did, and if I could do it without them noticing me, that would make things even better.
I was mid-dial, hoping Knox would answer and invite me in, when the gate slid open and he emerged with a leather attaché case in one hand and a cell phone in the other. I peered around the thick trunk of the tree, feeling even more like I was trapped in an old cartoon. Surely, this can’t be happening, I thought, but it was. “Knox, go back inside,” I hissed.
“What? Why?” He looked utterly bewildered. “You said you wanted to meet.” Just then, his phone rang. He held up a finger, indicating I should wait, and answered.
The moment the Russians spotted Knox, they split up. I lost sight of the one carrying the suspicious duffel, but the other headed directly for us. I had to act, but the gate had closed.
Knox had already trudged down the sidewalk to meet me near the coffee cart. Oblivious to the danger, he didn’t notice the enforcer heading his way. The Russian brought the briefcase up to chest height, held it flat, and popped it open with his thumbs. In a flash, he removed a hidden gun, knocked the lid closed with his forearm, and slipped his hand inside his jacket to conceal the weapon.
“Mr. Knox, we need to go. Now.” I grabbed his elbow, spun him around, and led him in the opposite direction.
“Lucien, I don’t have time for this. I’m already late. You said we’d get coffee at the cart and talk. I told you it had to be brief.”
“Change of plans.”
He tried to tug his arm free. “Let go of me.”
“You don’t want me to do that.” I squeezed his elbow harder, using his arm to steer him away from danger. He cautioned a glance over his shoulder. The man with the briefcase continued to follow us. “Last night, Vasili Petrov paid me a visit. Care to explain why?”
“What? Why?”
“You tell me.”
“Why would I know anything about that?” Knox stiffened, stopping short. “I’ll call you back,” he said to the person on the other end of the line and stuffed his cell phone into his pocket.
“Oh, I don’t know. Do you have any unpaid debts you forgot to mention?” I pushed against his back to keep him moving.
“Debts?”
“Gambling, loan sharks, that sort of thing. Alexei Balakin attacked a friend of mine a couple of weeks ago and took his cash and drugs to make up for the trouble you caused. Do you want to guess who Alexei was working for at the time?”
Knox’s face went white as a sheet. “I don’t know.”
“If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. Now keep moving, and keep your eyes facing forward.”
“Why? What’s going on? Where are you taking me?”
The light at the crosswalk turned red, halting our escape. I spotted the man with the duffel bag waiting on the other side. Vasili’s men knew what they were doing. They intentionally herded us in this direction. They wanted to box us in.
“Come on. We can’t stay here.” I jerked Knox away from the crosswalk. Since we couldn’t move forward, we’d have to move laterally.
“Whoa.” He yanked his arm free, swinging his attaché case wildly. “Are you crazy? Are you trying to get me splattered across someone’s windshield?”
“No, but Vasili’s men are about to splatter your brains all over the sidewalk. We’re out of options.” Traffic wasn’t moving that fast. We could make it, if we hurried. “It’s just like Frogger.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’ll be fun.”
“Fun?” His eyes grew to the size of saucers.
&
nbsp; “Well, more fun than a cigar cutter to the genitals or a gunshot to the noggin’.” Again, I flashed back to the club, feeling her blood spraying my face. The bagel had been a bad idea. I swallowed and shoved him into the street.
The man who was tailing us removed the gun from inside his jacket and held it down by his thigh. Vasili must have instructed his men to handle this quietly. Two silenced shots wouldn’t be noticed, not on a busy street like this. If done correctly, Knox’s body could be left on a bench or propped against a doorway, ensuring the Russians were long gone before the authorities arrived.
“Good news,” I grabbed the attaché case from Knox’s hand, “it doesn’t appear Vasili has any intention of torturing you. He just wants to kill you.” As for me, the jury was still out. But Vasili needed me. I didn’t think the kill team he sent would harm me unless I interfered or the gangster had changed his mind.
Knox opened his mouth to speak, but I pushed him across the first lane, propelling him forward with a hand between his shoulder blades. The man with the gun paced up and down the sidewalk, hoping to follow us across the street, but a sudden influx of cars stopped him. We darted through traffic, amidst a sea of honking horns, squealing brakes, and shouted profanities.
Knox tripped over the curb, skinning his palms on the pavement. I grabbed him underneath the arm and hauled him to his feet. We had to keep moving. My car was parked a block away. If we could get to it, we’d be safe.
“Lucien,” he winced, rubbing his hands together, “you gotta get me outta here. I don’t wanna die.”
“Are you ready to tell me the truth?”
“Yes, anything, just get me out of here.”
“I’m working on it.” I turned to see where the shooter was, but I didn’t spot him across the street. The man with the duffel remained at the crosswalk, waiting for the walk sign to illuminate. Hopefully, his comrade was doing the same. “Stay close.”
We only made it a few steps before the shooter hopped directly into our path from behind a parked car. The sun glinted off the silver suppressor. I reacted, swinging the confiscated attaché case against the Russian’s extended arm. The gun went off. The shot impacted with a tree, causing the birds in the branches to scatter.
Pivoting on my left foot, I followed through with a hook. It connected squarely with the Russian’s jaw. The enforcer stumbled backward, dazed by the unexpected hit. I grabbed for the gun, and we banged into the parked car. He lifted the weapon, and again, I batted it away with the attaché case.
The force of the strike caused the handles to slip from my hand. The momentum of the clunky leather bag tugged the suppressed weapon from the Russian’s grip, and the gun skittered into the street and clanged against a sewer grate. The shooter cursed and headbutted me.
Pain erupted where he hit me, from my teeth to my forehead. Something snapped. I heard it at the same moment I felt it. I was temporarily blinded by the tears that sprang to my eyes.
I swung blindly. My jab connected with his ribcage. He grunted, and I hit him again and again. I couldn’t see, but I could hear and feel. From the grunts he emitted, I knew my punches were connecting.
“Shoot him,” Knox urged as he dashed around the bench to grab the papers flying in the air. One of the compartments of his attaché case had fallen open, spewing his work materials across the sidewalk and into the street. Passersby had taken notice. Most gawked from a safe distance, but a few had come to assist, only to find me in the midst of a brawl.
“Great suggestion,” I growled, aware of the blood dripping into my mouth. I swung again before taking a moment to wipe my eyes. The enforcer threw an uppercut which sent me reeling backward. Everything spun. I teetered but stayed on my feet.
A woman called 9-1-1 while several men shouted at us to stop fighting. The Russian turned, and I delivered one final blow before shoving him against the side of the car. Leaning in close, I said, “Tell Vasili I’ll get him what he wants, but Knox is off limits. Got it?”
He expelled a hot puff of acrid air into my face and smiled, his teeth tinged red with blood. He cursed at me in his native tongue and laughed.
“Got it?” I asked again, but someone pulled me away before he could answer.
A group of men surrounded me while several others clustered around the now unarmed Russian, checking his injuries and asking if he was okay. A few guys got in my face.
“Are you okay, man? You’re bleeding.”
“No shit.” I pressed a napkin to my nose and spun around, expecting to come face to face with the other Russian, but the second enforcer wasn’t in the crowd. Pushing my way through the group of men, I searched for Knox. “Trey?”
“Here,” he said.
The same guy who pointed out I was bleeding grabbed my arm. I spun, ready for another attack.
He held up his palms and stepped back. “Cool it, man. You’re already in enough trouble. The cops are on the way.”
“Wonderful.” I wiped my watering eyes again, catching the briefest glimpse of the oddly shaped duffel moving down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. It was suddenly too hot for the Russians to carry out the execution, which meant it was too hot for me to stick around.
I pushed my way through the throng and grabbed Knox, who was reaching for a folder that had fallen beneath the bench. “Leave it. We have to go.”
Twenty-nine
“Are you okay?” Knox asked.
“Do I look okay?” I used one hand to hold a napkin to my nose while I drove with the other.
“No.” He exhaled, his left leg jittering up and down. “Maybe you should pull over. Can you even see to drive?”
I turned my head, feeling the bruise along my jaw. “Think of it this way, if we die in a fiery car crash, Vasili’s men can’t kill you.”
“You don’t have to be so mean.”
I cursed, slapping my palm against the steering wheel, which reverberated through my knuckles. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be in a street fight. Granted, it had only happened a handful of times before, but if memory served, I’d be feeling it for the next few days. Hell, I was already feeling it.
“Where are we going?” he asked. “We just passed a police station.”
“We’re not going to the police.”
“Okay.” He fidgeted with the seatbelt, taking it off and untwisting the strap. “Why not?”
“Are you prepared to explain to them what’s going on?”
He didn’t say anything, confirming what I already suspected. Knox must have been involved in some sort of illegal activity. I just didn’t know what, and he wasn’t talking. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“Jesus.” I switched lanes without looking and headed for Freddy G’s place. I had to make sure Alexei or more of Vasili’s men hadn’t gone back to the penthouse to finish what they started. “Why didn’t you go to the police in the first place?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Not really. You screwed Vasili Petrov, so he’s going to kill you.” I glanced at him. “How did you cross paths with him?”
“Gambling, I guess.”
“You guess?” I squeezed the steering wheel harder, attempting to keep my anger in check. “How much do you owe?”
“Before interest, thirty grand.” He swallowed. “I was good for it. I just needed to put some things together, but I had it.”
“You didn’t pay on time.”
“When I went back with the money, he told me it was now sixty.”
“Did you give him what you had?”
“No. I told him he couldn’t do that, and I wouldn’t give him back a dime.”
“And Vasili just let you walk away?”
“Not exactly. I didn’t meet with Vasili. The man I owed was a nobody bookie. I doubted he would do much. That whole kneecap thing only happens in movies, and everyone knows you can’t kill someone who welches on his debt or you’ll never get paid.”
&nb
sp; “Vasili found a workaround.”
“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t realize that’s who my bookie reported to, not at first anyway. I didn’t know they emptied my house.”
“What did the message on your bathroom mirror say?”
Knox stared at me, shocked that I knew about that. “How?”
“Officer Gallo told me about the spray paint. What did it say?”
“It said next time I’d pay in blood.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this to me?” I slammed on the brakes, causing Knox to fall face first into the dashboard. Satisfied, I backed into a spot and cut the engine. “How could you have known what it said since the glass was shattered? Did you break the mirror?”
“I just…I didn’t know it was him. I panicked. I read the message, and it freaked me out. I had to get rid of it.”
“How could you not know who wrote it?” None of this made any sense. “Who else wants to kill you?”
Again, he shrugged. “Lots of people.”
“Really? If we lump Vasili and his goons together, I can only think of one other person who wants you dead, and he’s sitting beside you. Who else am I missing?”
“Seriously?”
I snorted, which sent a wave of pain through my nose. Annoyed, I opened my door. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“You’re just going to leave me here alone?”
“You’re right. That could be dangerous.” I pulled a pair of handcuffs from my inner jacket pocket. “Give me your hands. I don’t want you going anywhere without me.” I gave him my most threatening stare. “It’s not safe.”
Once he was cuffed to the steering wheel, I climbed out of the car. “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
I went inside and upstairs to the penthouse suite. After a solid minute of knocking, Freddy G answered. From the leopard print pajama pants he wore, I assumed he’d been in bed.
“Luci, what happened to you?”
“It’d be easier if you asked what hasn’t.” I entered his apartment. “Do you have company?”
“No, my head’s still foggy from the attack. It messes with my performance.”
