Page 24 of Demetri
I continue to smoke my cigarette. "True. I will kill you." I snub my cigarette out on the back of his bound hand, causing him to flinch in pain.
"Then do it already, motherfucker."
Standing, I remove my jacket, laying it across the seat of the chair, then begin to roll up my shirt sleeves. One thing that separates me from other Bratva is that I like to get my hands dirty. Lead by example. My men don't respect me for my title alone. My men respect me because I don't hide behind them; I stand with them. They shed blood in the Volkov name because I fight beside them in war. "String him up," I order.
Dragging him a few feet, they cut the tape wrapped around his wrist. Lifting his arms above his head, they shackle him to the chains hanging from a pulley welded to the ceiling. Unbinding his feet, they spread his legs, binding his ankles to the floor. Pulling on the wench lever, fastened to the other end of the chain, Victor hoists the man until the shackles on his ankles become taught.
I circle the man. "Do what you want. I won't break," he spews. His face twists in pain, as Victor pulls the handle down on the wench, stretching the guy's limbs to the point of dislocation.
"We're just getting started." Walking beside a table, I pick up a pair of pliers. With a brief look, one of my other men rips the shirt from the man's torso, exposing his flesh. "I see you've done some time?" I take in his various prison tattoos. Using the pliers, I grasp some flesh on his chest. "Who do you work for?"
"Go to hell," he growls, and I rip a piece of his skin from his body, and he cries out in pain. "Someone stole from me." I pace back and forth in front of him. "Someone is trying to get their filthy hands in my business." I stop directly in front of him. "You know anything about that?" I repeat the process with the pliers.
"Ahh! Fuck you!" he screams through clenched teeth.
Each time I ask him the same question I receive the same fuck you cry of agony. Tossing the pliers onto the table, I pick up a battery pack. Lifting the drill from the table as well, I snap the powerpack on. The sound of the drill head spinning as I press the trigger causes the man to thrash his body back and forth as he hangs, suspended in the air. I walk up to him. "Give me answers, and I'll make your death swift," I warn him as I press the tip of the drill bit against his knee cap.
"I don't know shit." Spit flies from his mouth, and blood from one of his wounds drips onto my dress shoe.
"This will probably hurt." I give him no time to react. Pressing the trigger, I drive the drill straight into his kneecap, watching as the long spiral rod exits through the backside. He rivals in pain as I put the drill in reverse. I then move to his other knee.
His face pales. "Wait — wait — wait," he pleads. "I don't know the guy's name — I swear. We never met in person. He left payment for my services at a drop point, along with an address to deliver the goods." He mutters the address to a storage facility on the other side of town, and Luca takes the information down. "That's all I know, man. I work for no one." His face twists in pain. "Please. I beg you to give me a second chance."
All thieves ask for a second chance when death waits for them. His plead means nothing to me. "Kill him." Without pause, Victor pulls his weapon, places the barrel against the back of the man's head, and pulls the trigger.
12
Glory
Sasha and I landed back in Polson fifteen minutes ago. Demetri and Victor stayed behind in Russia, but Demetri assured me he wouldn't be gone long. I knew him sending me away had something to do with the phone call he received at dinner. I'm surprised when I pressed for information he was pretty forthcoming. Now, we are currently driving through town and have just passed Grace's bakery, The Cookie Jar. We also drive passed the turnoff to Demetri's house. Looking over at Sasha, I ask, "where are we going? You missed our turn."
Not taking his eyes off the road, Sasha answers my question. "I have been instructed to take you straight to The Kings' compound."
"Oh. I forgot," is my reply. Demetri wanting me to stay at the clubhouse means whatever threat he received is serious. Twisting in the passenger seat, I regard Sasha. "Will you be staying at the clubhouse too?"
He nods. "I stay where you stay."
"Hmm," I hum. "And what about the other two men who came with us. Are they staying at the clubhouse too?"
"Yes," Sasha answers but says nothing else.
"You're not much of a conversationalist, are you?" All I get is a grunt in reply.
As we turn onto the dirt road that leads to the clubhouse, I peer down at my watch and note it's near lunchtime. The clubhouse will be buzzing with activity by now. When I called Grace last night from the plane, she told me Jake had already informed her I was on my way back to Montana. As Sasha pulls the car through the gate of the compound, I take in my best friend who is standing just outside the door with my Goddaughter Ellie Kate on her hip. My heart warms at the huge smile directed toward me.
Jumping out of the car, I return a smile of my own while holding out my arms. Ellie Kate squeals as she catapults herself from her mother's arms into mine. "How's my sweet girl doing," I coo nuzzling her close and breathing in the smell of her baby shampoo. "Where's Remi?" I ask.
"She had a sleepover at a friend's house last night. She'll be home in a few hours," Grace informs me. It's also then the door to the clubhouse opens, and Jake steps out.
"How ya doin', sweetheart?"
"I'm doing okay, Jake."
Jake smiles then turns his attention to my bodyguard, who is standing to my left.
Sasha offers a hand. "Mr. Delane."
Jake accepts his offered hand and gives him a chin lift. "You can call me Jake." Jerking his head toward the door, Jake says, "let's head inside. I want to speak to you in my office." Scrunching my forehead, I look to Grace. She merely shrugs her shoulders as I pass Ellie back to her and follow Jake to his office with Sasha trailing behind.
