Page 90 of Born into Blood

If I wasn’t so worried about Lara, I’d laugh at the look of betrayal he gives me when I raise my gun and aim it at him.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me if I told you,” he yells at me like I’ve just broken a pinkie promise we made.

Instead of answering, I point my gun at his raised hand and pull the trigger. The music is so loud in the club that I doubt anyone heard it, but even if they did, my uncles are guarding the door and no one is leaving until we let them. Lou lets out a high-pitched scream, eyes wide as he stares at the hole in the center of his right hand.

“Maybe that’ll help you quit smoking,” I tell him as he tries like hell to staunch the blood that’s pouring from his hand. “Thanks for your help, Lou, and I sincerely hope for your sake that I never have to see your ugly face again.”

He’s still whimpering when I turn and leave his office. The music blaring through the small club seems to have hidden the gunshot from the strippers and customers, but I know Roger heard it. When I reach the bar, there’s already a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his face, and the dirty shirt he’s wearing isn’t doing shit to cover the sweat stains blooming at his armpits. My uncles are still standing near the door, watching to make sure our backs are covered as we walk over to the bar.

When no one says a word, I raise a brow at him. “Aren’t you going to ask us what we want?”

His eyes dart between us, not believing for a second that we just stopped in for a drink, and when he starts to move one hand below the counter, I say, “Hands where I can see them, Roger. I won’t ask again.”

He knows he doesn’t have a chance in hell of reaching whatever gun he has hidden under the bar before we get our hands on him, so he slowly places them both palms down on the counter. I walk around to join him, not looking forward to the part where I have to actually lay my hands on him. Even from a few feet away, I can smell his sour body odor.

He looks over his shoulder and growls at me, “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did,” I tell him, “and I’m going to fucking kill you for it. You get to decide how quickly you die, though. Tell me what I want, and I’ll make it quick. Lie to me, and I’ll make it last for hours, maybe even days.”

When a couple of guys walk over to try and get a drink, my dad blocks their way and shakes his head, making it clear they need to stay the fuck away. They quickly turn around and go back to their table in the corner.

A loud noise has us all looking towards the dark hallway seconds before a very pale Lou appears. He’s wrapped his bloody hand in paper towels and is clutching it tightly to his chest as he races past, too scared to even glance our way. He must’ve tried the back door, and when he couldn’t get it to budge, he decided speed walking was his safest bet.

My uncles laugh and step aside, allowing the man to race past so he can go to the hospital. We all know he won’t say anything to the police. He’s way more scared of us than he is of them.

Once Lou is gone, I put all my focus on Roger. “Decided yet?”

He grips the bar and continues to sweat and stink up the air around us.

“I’m losing my patience,” I warn, knowing every second that passes is putting Lara further away from me.

“A long time ago, shortly after Chloe quit, a guy came in one night. He had a few drinks, watched the girls, and then we started talking about all the rumors that had been going around. I mean, everyone around here knew some shit was going down. An entire fucking club burnt to the ground and people kept turning up dead.”

“Get to the fucking point,” I tell him.

“He told me that he knew some people who would be very interested in knowing if any of the Lebedevs survived, said he’d heard a rumor that Osip had been coming in here and fucking one of the girls. He gave me his number, told me to call if I ever heard anything and that I’d be paid a lot of money if I did.”

He looks over at me, and I can tell he’s begging me with his eyes to show some compassion, to try and see it from his point of view, but fuck that. He sold my girl out, and he’s going to pay for it with his life.

“Come on, man,” he tries again. “I didn’t know Chloe was pregnant when she left. When you came in the other day, it was like I’d seen a ghost. She reminded me of Chloe, and I knew she had to be her daughter, and then I saw your tattoo.” He sighs and drops his head like the weight of what’s about to happen is too much for him. “I’d forgotten all about that damn number, but when I saw her, it all came back to me, and I figured what the hell. I wanted the money. I wanted to get out of this dump and retire.”

“Well, now you’re going to die in this dump,” I say. “Tell me the number. Who the fuck did you call?”

“It’s right there,” he says, nodding with his head towards the right side of the bar so he can keep his palms where they are. “It’s the white card by the stack of coasters under the counter. I don’t know his name. He told me it was Phil, but he sure as hell didn’t sound like a Phil.”

“What do you mean?” my dad asks.

Roger looks at my dad and uncles. “I mean he sounded like you guys.”

“A Russian accent?” my Uncle Matvey asks.

“I guess so,” Roger says.

My Uncle Danil quickly grabs the card and leaves so he can work on tracing it while I grab the back of Roger’s shirt and haul his ass away from the bar and over to the room that’s marked Storage.

“Fuck,” he groans. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Do you really need me to answer that?” Opening the door, I shove him in and then shut it behind us. It’s a small fucking room, and his sour smell clings to every goddamn inch of it. The bare bulb above us gives off plenty of light, and when I pull my knife out, Roger’s will to live finally makes an appearance. He lunges for me, but I knew it was coming, and I’m more than ready for him. We’re way too close for him to get any real leverage, and when I twist, taking the brunt of his weight with my shoulder, he gets off balance and starts to fall.

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