His hands are in his pockets and his steps are measured, unhurried, and have a careless rhythm to them. He’s used to this street, despite the fact that it’s hidden.
Considering he’s not a native to the island, like all of TKU’s students and guards, this can only be a learned behavior he’s acquired with time.
“He’s off to meet someone,” Eli voices my thoughts, then grins. “Want to guess who?”
Sure enough, the guard reaches a secluded area on the beach. We hide behind the corner of a building as he does a full sweep of the area before he opens the door of a high-end, and very familiar, black Tesla.
We expected the loud McLaren that Landon treats like a lover instead of a car. He absolutely loathes electric cars, so he would never switch to a Tesla.
“Brandon…?” I voice as the guard disappears inside.
“Brandon’s car,” Eli tells me with a raise of an eyebrow. “That Landon could’ve easily taken for a ride. It goes without saying that he wouldn’t have used his own for this mission. He’s probably used Remi’s and yours before.”
Now that I think about it, Landon did take my car for a spin in the past. He could’ve easily borrowed any of our keys to conduct this operation.
We wait for a few minutes, watching the black car with tinted windows. Then, finally, the guard steps out and starts walking away from us.
The Tesla revs, something Bran would never do, before it speeds down the street.
“We’re getting that guard,” I say.
“My thoughts exactly, baby bro.”
We take our time following the man through all the twists and turns he takes.
When he reaches a secluded alley, Eli and I share a look, then we diverge in opposite directions.
I stand in front of the guard, hands in my pockets, with every intention of blocking his path.
He stops, narrows his mean eyes, and then reaches into his jacket. Before he can pull out whatever weapon he has hidden, Eli smacks him from behind with a rock.
The guard falls to his knees on the dirty ground, revealing the manic smile on my brother’s face.
“Improvising.” My brother throws the rock in the air and catches it. “Can’t say I hate it.”
The man appears to be in his late thirties, has small eyes, thin lips, and white-blond hair cut military style. He slaps a hand on the back of his head where a small wound gushes with blood. I wouldn’t call it fatal, but it definitely needs stitches.
“What the fuck…?” He stares between the two of us. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Judging by the Russian accent, you’re part of the mafia. Check,” Eli muses, appearing to enjoy this a bit too much. “I’m also going to guess you’re on Jeremy’s side, not Nikolai’s. Or more accurately, you’re a double agent who’s crossing Jeremy?”
The guard’s eyes turn bloodshot, narrower, which means we’re getting close. He starts to stand, but I kick him back down with a foot and keep my leg on his chest.
He releases his nape and wiggles, just like those worms back when we were kids. But this time, he manages to get his gun and jumps up. I kick his hand, and it clinks to the ground.
Eli kicks it away, grabs the man’s arms and hauls them behind his back, then shoves him to his knees again. “Now, now, let us not use weapons in this. They’re illegal on UK soil anyway.”
“We’re going to ask you a few questions.” I push the sleeves of my hoodie up. “You’ll either answer them nicely or we can turn your face into a map of destruction first.”
He spits at me and I smile. “A map of destruction, it is.”
I use him as my punching bag, driving my fist into his face, chest, and stomach over and over as Eli holds him back.
My brother gets bored halfway through, suppresses a yawn, and chooses to scroll through his phone. While still grabbing him in a deadly clutch.
I slam my fist underneath the man’s jaw, sending it flying sideways, and ask for the dozenth time. “What are you telling Landon?”
I expect the guard to remain silent like before, but he breathes harshly as blood pours from his mouth. “Are you going to take his place in clearing my debts?”
“We might.” Eli’s manic attention slides to the guard and he tucks his phone in his pocket. “But if you don’t tell us what we want to know, not only will you lose us as sponsors, but we’ll also make sure you lose Landon. King money might be infinite, but it’s hard to come by for peasants like you.”
“You don’t even care to hide your identities,” the guard pants out, sounding barely coherent with all the blood that’s gushing from his lips and nose.
“Does it make a difference?” Eli releases the man’s wrists, strolls in front of him, and cocks his head to the side. “Who would believe a traitor cockroach like you anyway? Definitely not Jeremy. And if you think Lan has your back, then you’re in for a life lesson. My cousin has absolutely no fucks to give about anyone who’s not himself and his dick. The moment he realizes you’re no longer a useful pawn in his alleged grand schemes, he’ll discard you.”
“You’ll pay the debts?” He’s speaking to me, probably having figured out I’m the least unhinged, despite the galaxy of bruises I left on his face.
Poor cunt.
There’s no such thing as a sane King.
Still, I nod and step back.
The guard takes a few moments to rise to his feet, then lets his weight fall against the dirty stone wall and taps his pockets before he fetches a blunt.
It takes a few more moments for him to light it. We don’t interrupt, patiently waiting for him to divulge what he knows. As Eli said, it’s better to allow the prey to come out on its own since any form of coercion might have the exact opposite effect.
And from what I gather, this man holds no loyalty to anyone. Except for his debts. Probably due to gambling.
“Landon wanted to know about the Volkov family secrets, but he was particularly interested in one that reached the media but remained a cold case.” He releases a cloud of smoke. “This happened a long time ago, when I was twenty and had just recently left Russia to join the New York Bratva. I saved one of the leaders by putting my life in jeopardy and soon after, I was recruited by Adrian Volkov’s men. Back then, he had this pesky problem that scattered his attention from his duties as the strategist of the New York City branch.”
“Oh?” Eli leans against the wall, mirroring his stance, and even retrieves a cigarette, then shoves it at the corner of his lips but doesn’t light it. “And pray tell, what might that be?”
“His wife went”—the man circles his finger near his temple—“crazy.”
“Crazy?” I echo.
Is that what Annika meant when she said her parents had a dark start that she wasn’t a part of?
“The type of crazy that was kept under wraps even within Boss’s inner circle. We weren’t allowed to utter her name unless we wished for a one-way ticket to the Spetsnaz, or worse, a grave.”
“That’s an interesting story, really. I’m all for craziness.” Eli pulls his unlit cigarette from between his lips as if he’s smoking. “But I don’t see why that’s of importance in the current circumstances.”