Page 23 of Bratva Bastard

“Fine by me,” Dimitry said, slapping his hands to his legs. “Now let’s figure out what to do about Sorokin’s men. If they’re staying in the hotel, they must be close. Crissy said that woman is a local, and they spoke with the woman at the cafe, so maybe we should start with the cafe.”

“Yeah,” I said, rubbing my temple and glancing at my empty coffee cup on the stand. “I could use some more coffee.”

“Only if it’s Irish,” Dimitry said with a wink.

But Andrei didn’t see the humor. “Would you two please focus. What will we do once we find them?”

“Kill them,” Dimitry answered, as if it were obvious. And to a Bratva man, it was.

* * *

We searched for hours.All morning and afternoon, we looked for the three shady assholes, but they were hiding out. Fucking cowards. If they were going to drug me, the least they could do was face me afterwards.

The cafe? No. The bar? No. The hotel? They checked out. And the woman? It was like she’d never existed, suddenly disappearing from town.

Where the fuck were they?

After an afternoon of hunting, we were ready to call it quits for the day. Dimitry had to return home to Gemma soon, and we were getting nowhere. Maybe we’d find something in the morning.

And after all, though the woman was impossible to track, Dimitry managed to get some intel on Sorokin’s men, his source following through with his tracking.

“There’s an abandoned sawmill,” Dimitry said, calling in reinforcements. “I’m waiting for the exact coordinates, but I have a few men on their way while we wait.”

“What’s at the sawmill?” I asked.

“Apparently, it’s where the two dimwits were tracked. They must have a small base there, or they’re hiding out.”

I nodded, ready to tackle those assholes for what they tried. But I bide my time, waiting patiently until we were given the exact location.

Eventually, we headed to the sawmill, driving in a black SUV and parking a distance away, creeping up on them in an ambush.

But when we revealed ourselves, it was as if they’d known we were coming. They were waiting with smiles on their smug, ugly faces.

“Dimitry Koslov. Always coming to the rescue for your idiot brothers,” one man chimed.

It was only the two men from the hotel against the five of us. They were certainly cocky for being so outnumbered.

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up,” Dimitry said with a roll of his eyes, “and tell us why you’re here.”

“I think you know why,” one of them answered, hand sliding to his gun discreetly.

I whipped mine out to shoot him, but the other man saw me and shot at me, missing and hitting one of Dimitry’s men. He fell to the ground, body lifeless and still.

“Fuck!” Dimitry shouted. “You fucked up right there.”

He shot the man in the head, but before he could aim at the other one, the guy grabbed Andrei, holding the gun to his head as he backed away.

How the fuck did Andrei get captured so easily? For a Bratva man, and a bodyguard, he was captured almost instantly.

“Shoot me and your friend dies,” he said, gun to Andrei’s head.

Dimitry held up his arms in surrender, gun still in hand. He wasn’t stupid enough to drop it.

But what the guy didn’t expect was that I’d shoot him anyway. Andrei meant nothing to me, and to be honest, the guy was an asshole. Obviously, he wasn’t that great of a bodyguard, or I wouldn’t have been drugged. So, fuck him.

I shot the man from the side, his focus solely on Dimitry, so he didn’t even see me aim the gun.

He fell to the ground, a pile of nothing—the same as his comrade.

---