Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Sava too,” I told Lev.
His scowl was quick and dark. “You’re expecting real trouble, then.”
“If something needs to be done, I don’t want to have to worry.”
“Good,” Lev agreed, stepping out of my way, and the two of us headed for the door, me walking fast, him, as always, at my shoulder.
We were in the car heading across town minutes later.
Once we reached the luxury high-rise building, Lev and I were the first to go in. We walked through the lobby, followed by Stanislav—Stas—Loginov and Adrian Sergeev, and then Sava Chaban—who no one ever missed because of the signature tracksuits and gold medallions he insisted on wearing. He always said that if he looked like the ridiculous stereotype of a Russian gangster, then no one would ever think he was actually dangerous. Those of us who really knew him were always surprised by how many people fell for the ruse, thinking that the heavyset, easygoing, hard-drinking man was not actually an extremely dangerous ex-FSB operative. It was also fascinating how many people never bothered to search Sava, thinking there was no way he could be hiding much in the tracksuit. I myself was always amazed at the number of knives that could be hidden in velour.
We never went up in the same elevator—that was only for movie gangsters—so when we reached the right floor, as usual, we all got off different elevators. Lev hit the scrambler in his pocket that disrupted the video feed on the floor so no one could see which apartment we went into. Also, no one would be able to check the stream later.
“You look like a picnic table,” Stas told Sava as they shook hands. “What the hell, old man? Do you need me to give you my tailor’s number?”
Adrian was grimacing as if Sava in his newest tracksuit was the worst thing he’d ever seen. “You need to move down to Boca or something. That’s just terrible.”
“It’s Gucci,” Sava said defensively, like that made all the difference, as we approached the door where two bodyguards stood, both dressed in black suits.
I wasn’t surprised when one of them gave me a slight smile and held open the door for us. There had never been a question about getting in; it was the leaving that could prove difficult.
Inside, I immediately sent Adrian to find Nara. Sava gave me a quick head tip, breaking off to look around and see who was there in the way of muscle backing up Burian. Stas stayed by the door as Lev and I pushed through the crowd to get out of the main room and find the bedrooms.
There was a full bar near the area where people were dancing, many others were at glass tables with lines of coke spread out on them, and the waitstaff was moving through the crowd with trays of shots, pills, and flutes of champagne.
Once we were in the hall, after a quick check of three rooms, we realized that men and women were being entertained by prostitutes whose handlers kept an eye on them.
“I have never seen the appeal of having other people watch me getting my dick sucked,” Lev grumbled, brows furrowed. “How is that fun?”
“So you’re saying, what? No orgies for you?” I teased him.
The look I got made me smile even in the horror show we found ourselves in.
“Thank you, no,” he replied, disgusted.
“At least everyone looks legal. We won’t have to pull people out like at Fordham’s party.”
He nodded.
Two weeks ago, an associate of my father’s had thrown a birthday party for his son. The moment Lev and I got there, checking on things, making sure everything was running smoothly, I’d noticed girls, some who looked as young as fourteen, instead of women. When we started gathering them up, Stewart, the one who was having the party, got in Lev’s face.
That was a mistake.
In seconds, he was facedown on a table being held there by a furious Lev, who already had a switchblade in his free hand. Everyone who was even loosely acquainted with Lev knew his temper was quick and violent. It had always been that way. But fortunately, I was there.
“If you break him,” I said with a sigh, “his father will whine to my old man and we’ll have to sit in his office and listen to a lecture. Do you want that?”
Lev grunted but let the young man up who darted over behind the bar and threw up in the sink there. I understood the reaction. Being on the receiving end of violence from Lev was terrifying. I was lucky we were friends.
We moved all the girls into one room, sent the men on their way, and had vans there twenty minutes later that took them to a shelter. The Lenkov family trafficked in many things, but human beings were not one of them. Prostitution was not one of our many sins. That was my choice, and my argument to my father had been that we should only sell things that couldn’t speak. Prostitutes, those in human bondage, could turn state’s evidence and confess to law enforcement. That could quickly turn ugly. Better to stick with blackmail, extortion, and theft. I had crews that were so good, the diamond couriers they jacked had no idea they were even hit until they reached their destination. We stole everything, from entire shipments of cars to high-end jewelry, from VX and sarin gas to medical supplies. All things that we could turn around and sell to the highest bidder. Sometimes it was even sold back to the people we took it from. That was my favorite. But trafficking in people, I stood firmly, was a losing proposition. Watching so many other families go down over the years when the men, women, and children they hurt revealed secrets in court, made my case for me with my father. But that wasn’t the real reason. The real reason was that I found it vile, which my father didn’t need to know. Logic always worked better with him. He hated any argument grounded in emotion.