Page 4 of Hate to Love You
Which makes men like the little rat up in the townhouse, extremely valuable, as their movements and contacts help us navigate the murky waters of what was always a superficial truce at best.
But last week one of my men, and technically my cousin, Mikhail, was killed by two Irish guys in a bar over in the Bronx. And while I didn’t particularly care for the crackhead Mikhail, who was a stupid drunk who likely just wandered into the wrong pub…They still killed him.
Which cannot stand.
And what’s more, rumor has it that one of the men who killed him was none other than my little rat.
So now I must exterminate him.
The door opens behind me and Pasha steps out into the street with me.
“Can I have one of those?”
“No,” I say firmly. “You don’t need this shit.”
“Fuck off, Ro,” he sighs, annoyed.
I glance up at him before rolling my eyes. Handing him the pack, I turn back to the dark silent house before us.
“Are they alright in there?” Pasha asks. “I mean, they haven’t made a peep.”
“That’s how we know they’re alright. They know what’s expected,” I say, exhaling. “As do you.”
I steal a glance at him, watching as he slowly lowers his eyes to the cigarette in his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know you said you’d only bring me tonight if I didn’t annoy you.”
This fucking kid.
He’s lucky he’s my favorite, otherwise I might’ve strangled him a long time ago. But I also just can’t seem to stay mad at the little shit.
I sigh, turning to face him.
“Look, you’re a good kid. You’re smart, and you’re quick on the draw,” I say, shaking my head. “But these men are dangerous. And you’re not taking this seriously, and you fucking need to be.”
He nods.
I grab the back of his head and pull him close enough to whisper in his ear.
“I need you to be sharp, and pull your head out of your ass.I cannot be worried about your mind being off in the clouds, or dwelling on fat-assed whores when I’m supposed to be handling business, alright?” I say, punching his shoulder gently. “Alright?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, Ro,” Pasha replies. “I’ve got you, brother.”
“Good,” I say, tapping his shoulder. “You can show me the bitch later.”
Pasha grins, and I feel slightly better.
“Boss, we’re ready for you,” Igor’s voice seeps through the walkie. “And you’re not going to believe what I found…”
What?
I nod to Calvin, who is both my driver and my right hand. Cal signals Giorgi, the driver of the other car, and together the four of us walk up the old brick steps and head inside.
In the front parlor room, four men sit on the couch, bruised and bleeding. Their hands are zip tied behind their backs, and their mouths duct-taped shut.
“The cunts didn’t see us coming,” Igor laughs, kicking one of the tied men in the shins.
“Where is he?” I growl.