Page 92 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

Out on the sidewalk, people have scattered and there are sirens off in the distance, but no sign of the shooter.

“I couldn’t see shit in there,” I growl. “Did you see who it was?”

He shakes his head. “They were in dark clothes and it was too smoky.”

“Fuck.” Arslan spins around like a dog eagerly searching for his tail. “Do we split up and search or—”

“No need.” I holster my gun and march towards my car. “I know just where to look.”

* * *

Giorgos is holding court at his usual table in the back corner of the Greek restaurant, perched where he can see everyone and everything coming.

Before Arslan and I even make it through the front doors of the restaurant, the hostess is moving towards us.

"Mr. Simatou is entertaining another guest,” she says the moment we’re through the front doors. “He asks that you wait here and—"

"Fuck off," I spit.

She opens her mouth like she's going to say something else, but Arslan warns her off as I keep striding past her. "Not a good idea to get between a lion and its supper, sweetheart. I promise you aren’t being paid enough to deal with this.”

The woman looks conflicted, but she decides to stand back.

Good decision.

I march across the restaurant towards Giorgos. I see him trying to quickly dismiss the two other men sitting at his table, but he isn't fast enough.

"I fucking warned you, Simatou," I growl, slamming my fist on the table hard enough to tip over a half-full glass of red wine. It soaks into the table linen like blood.

He smiles at the now-nervous men with him. "Sorry about this, gentlemen. We'll reconvene later."

"If I let you walk out of here,” I snarl.

Giorgos laughs like it's a joke, but I can see the unease in his brow. As soon as his guests are gone, he drops the smile and lowers his chin. "What the fuck, Nikolai?"

"What the—You're asking him 'what the fuck?'" Arslan stammers in disbelief. "No, he's asking you 'what the fuck?' I am, too. So… what the fuck?"

"What the fuck?" I repeat. "Shooting up an entire club to take me out? That’s sloppy, friend. Very fucking sloppy.”

"And whoever you sent has shit aim," Arslan adds. "He never even got close. Though I guess I should thank you for that.”

Giorgos holds up a hand to stop us. "Friends, please. You were shot at? That is disturbing news."

I exhale angrily. "Don't waste my time by acting like you don't know. You were pissed because I killed your spy and thought you’d retaliate.”

At that, his eyes bulge. "What? You killed one of my men?”

Arslan makes a low, anxious sound in the back of his throat. "Maybe he really doesn't know, boss."

I have to admit, this would be a pretty convincing display, especially for Giorgos. Acting is not one of his strengths.

"Cut the shit and tell me what you know, Giorgos.”

"I know nothing, apparently," he spits. "I came here for dinner and drinks. I've been here for hours. I haven't heard anything about the man you—who did you kill?"

"Whoever you sent to watch me at The Russian Room. I slit their throat."

He whistles. "Well, it sounds like they deserved it, then. I warned my men to end surveillance."

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