Alone or she dies.
After getting word of his brother Santiago’s death, Alejandro of the Los Infieles hadn’t wasted any time in striking at us again. We were certain it was part revenge for his brother’s death but done mostly out of self-preservation. He knew we’d come after him, so he decided to hit first. It was a mistake he wouldn’t live long enough to regret.
Thirty minutes later, I was standing alone in the parking lot of the abandoned restaurant.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The crisp air did nothing to cool my rage. I clenched my fists at my sides and marshaled every ounce of discipline I possessed. Throughout my career, I had sat across the table from the most notorious, soulless piece of shit excuses for human beings the world had ever seen. Each time I kept calm and professional; there was no place for emotion in a negotiation. That’s all this was, a negotiation, a business transaction.
Except it wasn’t.
Far from it.
Mary’s life and our future happiness depended on the outcome.
I would be damned if I let her down.
Just outside the grimy glass double doors, I raised my arms and let two of Alejandro’s men pat me down before I entered. Thin brown paper was taped over the restaurant windows, blocking out the last of the fading sunlight. The tables scattered about the dining room were in varying states of disarray. Some were bare, others had red and white checkered tablecloths with place settings, still others had the last remains of some forgotten diner’s meal. There were also several tables and chairs turned over. A thin layer of dust covered the scuffed linoleum floor and surfaces. The restaurant had obviously been abandoned under some extreme circumstance.
Sitting at a table in the center of this frozen chaos was Alejandro. Mary sat next to him—with a revolver to her head. Her lower lip trembled but otherwise she remained still. I didn’t need her to speak. Her wide frightened eyes told me all I needed to know. I vowed then and there I would spend the rest of my life erasing that look of terror from her gaze.
“Vasili Rostov, so nice of you to come. Join us,” said Alejandro with misplaced mirth as he gestured to the seat opposite him.
I surveyed the room, taking note of the three men standing guard. A fourth approached the table with a bottle of Devil’s Springs vodka and two shot glasses. He placed the items in the center of the table and, with a nod to Alejandro, backed away.
Alejandro gestured to the vodka. “You see what a gracious host I am being? This is what you Russians drink, right?”
I glanced at the vodka label, one-hundred sixty proof, perfect for my plan. I then picked up the shot glass and raised an eyebrow. “Will there be children joining us? Or can I have a man’s glass?”
The smile left Alejandro’s face.
I forced myself to breathe as I kept my features passive and calm. The hardest part was not looking straight at Mary. I couldn’t risk having any emotion, especially not fear, cross my face. Never show your cards to your enemy.
After another tense moment, Alejandro laughed. He gestured to his guard and called out something in Spanish. The guard returned with two double old-fashioned glasses. He took the shot glasses with him as he stepped back.
Alejandro wagged a finger at me as he laughed again. “I like you, Vaska. I’m sure you and I can come to an arrangement.”
I leaned in and picked up the bottle. “May I?”
“Please do.”
I nodded then poured us both a glass. Alejandro noticed the generous pour in my own glass, but said nothing, probably assuming all Russians were drunks who drank their vodka half a glass at a time.
We raised our glasses. I then said, “To a satisfactory arrangement.”
We both drank. I took that moment to glance quickly at Mary. She kept her gaze steady on me. I gave her a wink as my lips lifted in a small smile. She took a deep breath, a small assurance my gesture calmed her.
Alejandro grimaced. “I don’t know what your people see in this crap. It tastes like water.”
I shrugged. “It’s an acquired taste.”
“You and I need to come to an understanding.”
I twisted the glass in my hand. “First, lower your gun.”
Alejandro sneered as he pressed the gun harder against Mary’s temple. “Does it upset you to see a gun to the head of the woman you love? Maybe we should play a game of Russian roulette?”
I wasn’t taking the bait. “It upsets me to see a gun to the head of any beautiful woman. Surely, any real man could keep a woman in line without needing a firearm.”
Alejandro did take the bait.
He lowered the gun. I kept my breathing shallow, knowing a deep breath of relief would reveal more than I intended.
Alejandro spoke. “You killed my brother Santiago.”
“Your brother took something of ours.”
Alejandro nodded. “Yes, yes, the blonde. He was rash. We did not know she was under the protection of the Russians.”
“Well, now you do.”
“Taking the girl was a miscalculation on my brother’s part,” offered Alejandro.
I flicked my gaze to Mary and back to him. “One you have repeated.”
Alejandro held up a placating hand. “It was the only way to get you face to face. A man needs to look into another man’s eyes to know his true intentions and I wanted to make sure I had your full attention.”
I rubbed a hand over my jaw before responding. Inhaling through my teeth, I said, “Well, you have it.”
“I don’t want a war with the Russians. You have killed several of my men. I have killed several of yours. Let it end here.”
“And the girl?”
Alejandro raised his gun back to Mary’s head. “The Russians killed my brother. That must be avenged if I am to save face among my family and men. I’m afraid the girl must die. Blood for blood. Then all will be settled between us.”
Mary gasped as fresh tears flowed over her cheeks.
I reached for the inside pocket of my suit jacket. Every guard in the room stepped forward, guns raised. I lifted my open palms. “Just reaching for my cigarettes, boys.”
Alejandro nodded and they backed off.
I pulled out a packet of Sobranie cigarettes and a Zippo lighter. Selecting one black- and gold-tipped cigarette, I turned my attention to Mary.
Her lips trembled. For the first time she spoke. Her voice was rough from crying. “I love you, Vaska.”
I smiled. “I love you too, krasotka.”
Even with a bruised eye and smeared makeup and a tearstained face, she was still the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. “Mary, do you remember that episode of Buffy you made me watch where the librarian guy used the crossbow? I think it was called ‘Passion.’” I stared at her intently, praying she wasn’t too distraught to catch on to my warning. I knew I wouldn’t be able to communicate directly with her, so I had to come up with a plan she would understand without being told.
I waited.
Her eyes widened with understanding. She tilted her head forward slightly.
Good girl.
Alejandro sneered. “I was told you were a ruthless man, Vaska, but I was misinformed. Only a stupid man tells another the rock he’s holding is actually a jewel. Since she means so much to you, maybe I won’t kill her. Maybe I will keep her. As my insurance against any further retaliation by you or Dimitri.”