After hearing Uncle Alexei’s with Mariya, I manage to relax a little because nothing will get past him.
Uncle Alexei and Uncle Demitri will watch over Mariya until I’ve taken care of the threat that’s only fifteen minutes away from us.
In the past two weeks, we found out the men who attacked Mariya were sent by Erand Kastrati – the older and, as it would seem, dumber one of the two fuckers. After two failed attempts in LA, the idiot has sent more men to die.
They’re currently sitting ducks in a house near downtown Pasadena.
We’re busy checking our weapons and pulling on armored vests. While the other men joke about who’ll kill the most people, my thoughts turn to other new developments.
Word has spread like wildfire through underground channels that Mariya is just as dangerous as her parents. She’s quickly gaining respect in the criminal world.
Before the hit, she was only seen as the spoiled daughter of Alexei Koslov, but now she’s made a name for herself.
I hope to God it means no one will try to attack her again.
I’ve also had Viktor spread the news that she’s married to me. I want every eligible fucker out there to know Mariya’s my wife.
“Ready?” Viktor asks. He has two stun grenades strapped to his waist, a submachine gun in his right hand, and his favorite Glock in his left.
“Leave one of the men alive this time,” I remind him.
“Yeah-yeah.”
I glance at Nikolas, Liam, and Gabriel, who are ready to head out. Between the three of them, there’s an army guarding their wives.
“Check earpieces,” I instruct. When everyone nods, I shove my Heckler & Koch behind my back and pick up the submachine gun and Baretta. “Let’s kill some fucking cockroaches.”
We leave our office building, and forming a convoy, we travel the short distance to Pasadena.
We don’t bother taking the stealthy approach as we stop with screeching tires in front of a typical suburban house. Jumping out of the G-Wagon, I know I don’t have to check who’s behind me as I run for the front door, knowing the other men have my back.
Just as I train the barrel of my gun on the front door, I notice Viktor darting around the side of the house for the back entrance in case a fucker tries to escape.
I pull the trigger, blowing the lock off. The wood shudders and squeaks as it swings open. With the submachine gun’s strap hanging across my chest, I lift both my arms and hold the Baretta steady in front of me as I stealthily enter the house.
Gunfire erupts from somewhere in the back, then Viktor’s voice comes through the earpiece. ‘I’m in. Two down.’
“Don’t kill them all,” I remind him again.
“Yes, sir,” he chuckles.
A man partially exposes himself by a doorway, only the right side of his body visible. I fire two shots, one to his hip and the other to his shoulder. He staggers back against the doorjamb then slides down to his ass.
As he reaches for his gun with his left hand, I fire another shot. While he cries from the pain of the bullet tearing through his hand, I kick his weapon away.
Nikolas, Liam, and Gabriel move past me to search the rest of the house while I crouch in front of the fucker.
“You’re losing a lot of blood,” I mutter.
He rests his head against the doorjamb and tries to look impassive, his features tight with pain.
“Where’s Kastrati?”
“Don’t know,” he mutters.
I press the barrel of my gun to his forehead. “Where’s Kastrati?”
The fucker locks eyes with me. “Fuck off.”
I pull the trigger, and as his chin drops to his chest, I rise to my feet and resume my search for the next Albanian fucker who’ll hopefully talk.
Viktor comes through a doorway, takes one look at the dead body, and shakes his head at me. “And I’m not allowed to kill. So fucking unfair.”
I let out a chuckle, and when I walk past him, Viktor takes position behind me. With him matching my every step, we move as one.
I see Nikolas and the other guys heading up the stairs, so I walk into the living room. Empty food containers are scattered everywhere.
“Looks like we interrupted lunch,” I say as I kick a box of spilled fried rice out of the way.
“Shitty last meal if you ask me,” Viktor mutters.
We hear gunfire from upstairs, then bullets fly from the direction of the dining room. I shove Viktor down behind the couch, and his ass lands in the rice scattered across the floor.
“You had to fucking kick the shit this way,” he complains as a spray of bullets slam into the couch we’re taking cover behind.
“Yeah, I just knew your ass would be sitting in it a couple of seconds later.”
“Are those peas? Who the fuck eats that shit?”
“Focus,” I chuckle.
“Right.” He moves into a crouching position, then I indicate with my fingers, ‘Three. Two. One.’
We dart up and open fire on the Albanians. Side by side, we push forward as one after the other soldier tries to get in a shot at us.
The moment we enter the dining room, Viktor takes out two guys while I shoot a third in the knee, dropping his ass to the tiled floor.
I quickly step on his wrist, then crouch and yank the weapon from his hand. Tossing it to the side, I press the barrel of my gun to the fuckers junk. “Let’s try this again. Where’s Kastrati?”
“Wait! Wait!” he panics, his eyes glued to his pelvis.
Viktor keeps guard in case there’s anyone still hiding who decides to attack.
“All cleared upstairs,” I hear Nikolas say. “No woman for you to take, Viktor.”
“Fuck off,” Viktor grumbles, drawing chuckles from the other men. He takes his anger out on the Albanian, kicking the fucker’s shot-up knee. “Start talking before I decide you’re not worth keeping alive.”
Growing impatient as fuck, I shout, “Where’s Kastrati?”
“Bucharest!” The man’s breathing comes fast. “He’s in Bucharest.”
“Address,” I demand.
The fucker rambles off something I don’t understand, but Viktor seems to because he mutters, “Got it.” He crouches next to the terrified man, who can’t be much older than twenty-one. ‘What do we do with him?”
“Let him go,” I say.
The command has Viktor giving me an incredulous look. I gesture for him to step out of the dining room while Nikolas and the others watch the Albanian.
“Are you serious?” Viktor asks once we’re out of earshot.
“Yes. We let the fucker go and track him.”
Viktor shakes his head, then mutters, “If he slips my surveillance, it’s on you.”
I let out a burst of laughter. “Like anything ever gets past you.” There’s no way the Albanian will give Viktor the slip. The man is part bloodhound.
Walking back into the dining room, I wait as Viktor takes a couple of photos of the Albanian and checks his wallet to make tracking the fucker easier. “Kreshnik Xhelilaj. That’s a fucking mouthful,” Viktor says.
I gesture for the Albanian to get up, then nod at the doorway. “Go.”
He gives me a wary look as he slowly limps toward the exit.
“Before I fucking change my mind!” I shout, wanting him out of my sight.
He darts away like a frightened deer.
“Let’s get out of here,” Nikolas mutters.
“Are we taking a trip to Bucharest?” Liam asks as we leave the house.
“No, you’re taking your wives and going home,” I say as I open the driver’s door of the G-Wagon. “Viktor and I will handle the rest from here on out.”
“Sure?” Gabriel asks.
“Yeah. I’ll call if I need you.”
We all climb into our respective vehicles and drive back to the office.
Over the excitement of the attack, Viktor sighs, then says, “We have a shipment coming in on Friday and a new arms dealer to meet. Are we flying to Peru, or is he coming here?”
“Would be best if we went to him. I don’t think he’ll get through customs with a modified Heckler & Koch,” I mutter. “Also, I want to see his place of operation.”
Viktor glances at me. “Good idea.”
I let out a sigh. “We’ll have to take the war to Kastrati before we can deal with Tinaj.” I frown and glance at Viktor. “Honestly, I’m starting to think Tinaj doesn’t exist. There’s been no trace of him.”
“I’m not sure.” That’s a rare thing for Viktor to say. “But I’ll find out.”
