Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I feel bad that such a shitty son is going to be the end of his old man, but then again I don’t have a clue what type of fucker he is either.
Slapping my hand across the old man’s mouth, he lurches up, towards the ceiling, but I don’t allow him to go far.
Pressing the barrel of my pistol to his temple, I murmur, “Don’t make a fucking sound.”
He says something in Russian behind the hand I have placed over his mouth, but the moment I push the pistol in hard against his head he shuts up. He may not know what the fuck I said, but I’m pretty sure he gets my meaning.
I quickly wrap his arms up in tape then stuff an old sock in his mouth. I tape the sock in place to keep him quiet.
Securing his feet, I stand up to assess my work.
He’s pissed as fuck, and I can see in his eyes how much disdain he must have for me, and probably some for himself for getting old and feeble. I bet he would have put up a lot more of a fight in his younger days.
Walking past him, I move back out into the living room where Yuri is still passed out on the couch. The couple across the hall from us have gone from wails and screaming to thumps and vocal yells of pain. He’s probably thumping her around pretty good over there.
Fucking drunk assholes.
I hear shouting now from other apartments.
That should help with all the shit that’s going to happen to Yuri.
The first thing that must go through Yuri’s mind as he wakes with a start is half of the fucking teeth I smash in with my hand.
He bellows in pain, but with all the shouting going on around us, it goes unchecked.
I slap him a couple of times with my fists in his ribs to get him to shut up enough to look at me.
He’s a pitiful little fucking pile of shit, and I feel no remorse at all that he’s on the very bottom of the food chain.
He’s the fucking mouse and I’m the fucking lion.
“You may not know me, Yuri…” I snarl at him as I push him into a rickety old wooden chair.
“I no Yuri! I Gregov!” he whines at me.
Slapping him with an open hand, I treat him like the little bitch he is. “No, I know who you are, Yuri. Lucifer doesn’t make mistakes when he sends me after someone.”
Just the mention of Lucifer causes the man to begin shaking mightily. His eyes begin to dart all over the place as he looks for a possible escape.
Slapping him again, I say, “Pay attention, asshole. I know you speak English. I know you’re Yuri.”
He tries to stand up but I push him back down hard in the chair. “Quit fucking moving, asshole. You behave and I just kill you tonight. If not, your dad gets to go a couple of rounds with me too.”
His eyes widen for a moment and his mouth opens, but then he shuts it.
“Good, I see you understand.”
I pull a phone from my jacket pocket and then start recording.
“Ready to talk?”
Nodding his head, he says through his bloody mouth, “Da.”
Pulling my fist back, I slam it into his gut. All the air in him explodes out as his eyes bulge. Coughing and sputtering, he looks up to me with tears streaming down his cheeks.
“I need to know names, Yuri. I need to know who else had a hand in the attack.”
“I don’t… I don’t know… Ivan and me… we set up…”
Lifting my fist in the air, I threaten to hit him again. “We know him, Yuri. I need to know who else wanted this set up.”
“I don’t know anyone else. Ivan came to me, asked me if I wanted to look good for Gre…” His eyes widen and I can see he was about to say something he shouldn’t.
He tries to look away.
“Don’t clam up, asshole. I need the information, and I can always go back to causing pain if you don’t talk.”
He looks back at me and I think he finds some type of hope in my words.
Whatever gets him through this, I guess.
Grabbing another chair, I sit it down in front of him. “You were going to say someone, who was it?”
“Gregory Vasiliev. Ivan was trying to move up in his good graces, and if I helped out with getting some weapons or guys in… I would look good to the Bratva. He said I could start getting in…”
“In?”
“In with them… They would help my business back in states. I could…”
“Could what? Have a bigger slave market? Sell more coke?”
“Yes… I could take sliver of pie for me.”
“Was it Gregory who called for the attack?”
“I don’t know. I never met big head guys…”