Page 53 of Maximus

Val’s husband stood up and helped her up. Roman offered her a hand up, and she took it. They walked across a small field before she saw the farmhouse. Roman knocked on the door, and an elderly woman answered it. She smiled toothlessly. “Come, come in. Dinner is ready.”

Reaper answered the woman in Russian. “Thank you, Grandmother. Your help is appreciated.”

“My Ivan, he worked with Guardian before he died. I will always be here for you.” The woman nodded and shuffled toward the kitchen. “It is only the dogs and me now. Guardian makes sure I am well cared for. I have food and money. They visit and check on me when they are in the country, as you do. Guardian cares. Russia does not.”

Elena followed the elderly woman. “Grandmother, may I help you?”

The woman looked up at her. “You are Russian?”

“My father is; my mother is British.”

“You leave Russia. Don’t look back. Russia is dying. I have seen it with my eyes. Decay is a slow rot. Soon, the country will crumble.” The woman nodded to an old fire-fed stove. “You can take the stew. Vodka is on the shelf.” She shuffled to the cupboard to gather bowls.

Elena did as she was told and thought about the woman's words. She wasn’t wrong. Sadness filled her. The country had such a history, but political corruption had caused a definite deterioration. She wished her father would leave the country, but he wouldn’t. She listened to the laughter and fun of the people in the home. All spoke Russian perfectly. Guardian, it seemed, had resources and integrity. It helped an old woman who would have been alone and without resources. She counted her blessings and wondered where Max was at that moment.

CHAPTER 24

Max walked to the vehicle that had been hidden, opened the trunk, and took out three jugs of water and a bar of soap. Stripping, he washed the blood off his body. In the morning, the authorities would find Abrasha and his message. The field where the man had died was not far from the road. He’d be spotted as soon as the sun came up.

Of course, the death would not be mentioned on Russian news channels, but word would spread like wildfire. That was one thing the Russian government couldn’t control. People talked, and they talked more when someone from the aristocracy was involved. Powerful, vicious people being humbled, or in that case, removed, was news, and word would spread faster than any government could manage.

He dried off, changed his clothes, and headed to Sochi. Max made no pretense about his movements. He parked in front of Elena’s office, walked to the door, and looked up at the camera. He punched in the code to enter the office and walked in. Once inside, he said in English. “She’s mine, she’s safe, and your boss is dead. Come and get me, you bastard.”

Max walked to the back loading bay, turned on the lights, and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. The door from the officeopened, and Sokolov walked in. Both men had guns trained on the other. “Abrasha is dead,” Max said before he dropped his weapon’s barrel.

Sokolov shut the door behind him. “Soon, you will be, too.”

Max lifted away from the bench he was leaning on and placed his weapon on it. “Put your gun down and face me like a man, or would you prefer to beat up on a woman?”

Sokolov showed his teeth in a snarl. “She liked it.” The man lifted his weapon’s barrel to the ceiling and put it on a bench near him. Max moved to the middle of the bay at the same time as Sokolov.

Sokolov took a swing that Max dodged with ease. The Russian moved again, testing his reach against Max. Max slapped the jab away. One thing he’d learned while training was that getting into a person’s head or making them emotional was a definitive edge. Sokolov lunged, and Max danced out of his reach, slapping the man’s face as he passed.

Sokolov growled and feigned with a right, followed by a left. Max ducked the punch and jabbed with a right. He felt the bastard’s nose shatter under the force of his punch. Blood soaked the front of Sokolov’s shirt. The Russian let out a shriek and dove for Max’s knees.

Unable to move quickly enough, Max let the takedown happen and rolled, putting Sokolov on top of his shins, but with a poor grip. Max bent his knees, lifted his legs, and then kicked as hard as humanly possible, connecting in the junction of the neck and shoulder. He rolled away from Sokolov and sprung to his feet. Sokolov was quick getting up, too, but he’d hurt the fucker. His arm hung limply beside him, and blood continued to drip from his nose. In that instant, Max realized winning was no longer an option for Sokolov. How he died was.

Max smiled at the man. “Do you want to know what I did to Abrasha?”

Sokolov inched toward his weapon. Max countered the move and put himself between the weapon and the Russian. “Uh, uh, uh … we were settling this like men. No guns.”

Sokolov bolted for the bench and grabbed a screwdriver. He slashed at Max. The reach was just enough to snag his shirt and rip it. Max spun with the force of the slash and grabbed Sokolov’s hand. Spinning, he brought the man’s arm behind his back. Max stood behind the man and whispered, “I carved him up. Spread him open like a blood eagle. My people wanted to send a warning to everyone who preyed on innocent people.”

Sokolov yelled and dropped to his knees. Max heard the shoulder pop out of its socket. He backed up as the man fell forward and slammed his shoulder into the floor's concrete surface. Sokolov lunged up and grabbed for his weapon.

Max pounced on the gun at the same time. His grip fell over Sokolov’s on the weapon as they fell to the floor together. Grappling for control of the handgun, Max shoved his elbow into Sokolov’s neck. He wrenched the gun at the same time as Sokolov squeezed the trigger. The gunshot didn’t even register. Max pushed harder with his elbow. He felt the cartilage of Sokolov’s neck give … or maybe it was muscle. He didn’t care. Max twisted the gun violently and yanked it from Sokolov’s hand. He stood up, panting and pointing the weapon at the bastard on the ground.

“Kill me!” Sokolov baited Max. “Shoot me and be done with it.”

Max shook his head and walked over to the bench. He picked up a box cutter. “No. Shooting you would end your miserable life too early.”

Sokolov spat blood at him and tried to get up. “My men will kill you as soon as you leave. You’re a dead man.”

Max laughed. “Your men are already dead.” Or they would be shortly. Malice had been watching the office since he’d arrivedthe night before, and it was his job to eliminate anyone who might disturb Max’s … fun.

“You won’t get away with this.” Sokolov lunged to his feet and swayed.

Max pointed to the post in the middle of the receiving bay. “Does that remind you of a tree?”