63. Radimir

63

RADIMIR

I got the call when I was in a meeting with a city councilman. Bronwyn’s number, but it was her friend’s voice. “He took her! Come to the bookstore, quick!”

I didn’t have to ask who he was. I stood up and walked out of the meeting, leaving the councilman staring. I was only a block away and the traffic was barely moving: it would be quicker on foot. The instant the elevator hit the lobby, I ran.

The rain was pounding the streets, and I was soaked before I’d gone ten feet, but I barely noticed. Chyort! You fucking idiot! How could you leave her, even for a few hours? Where is he taking her? What is he doing to her, right now?

When I marched into the store, the guards I’d left were waiting for me, their heads hung. “He was already inside when we got here,” one of them told me. “He took her out the back, we never even saw them. I’m sorry.”

I stalked over and stood chest-to-chest with him, my breath coming in huge, shuddering pants. I wanted to smash something, wanted to hurt someone, and he stood there stoically, waiting for his punishment. But hitting him wouldn’t solve anything. And this was on me, not him. I was here! I was right here, all I had to do was check the fucking back room!

I looked around at the bookstore— her bookstore. A wonderful, magical place that was nothing without her in it. She was gone because I failed utterly to protect her, I let him just walk in here and take her?—

I roared and upended a table of books, sending it crashing to the floor and scattering paperbacks everywhere.

Baba walked over, careful and shaky on her twin walking sticks, but determined. “Not your fault,” she wheezed. She looked me right in the eye. “Just get her back.”

I panted, the rage still pounding through me. Then I nodded and pulled out my phone.

As soon as Spartak picked up, the words spilled out of me. “If you hurt her, if you touch her, I will hunt you down and break your fucking neck. I don’t care if you run back to Russia, I don’t care if it takes me my entire fucking life, I will find you and I will cut. Your. Fucking. Throat. ”

“Your life for hers,” said Spartak coldly. “Tonight. Midnight. At my club. Come alone and unarmed.” And he hung up.

My life for hers. It wasn’t even a decision. Of course I’d take that deal. And of course Spartak wouldn’t let her go. But it was my only chance of maybe getting her out of this alive.

I’d be walking into his building, filled with his men, unarmed. I needed some way to even the odds. I couldn’t just show up with an army, or Spartak would just kill her. I needed one person, someone who could sneak in undetected. My brothers couldn’t do it: their faces were known; they’d never get into the club. And there was only one other person I’d trust with something like this.

I stared at my phone. It had been so long...and I was the one who’d ended our friendship. He might not want to know me anymore…

I sighed. That woman knows me better than I know myself. I was scared. But that didn’t matter, not now.

It’s been years. His number will have changed. I called Konstantin. “I need you to put me in touch with a guy who used to work for Luka Malakov. His name is Alexei.”