Page 80 of Poisoned Pawn
I shift gear, turning down a side street. “We’re meeting Akim.”
“Pavel’s second? Why not Lev?”
I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my head. “Surprisingly, Lev isn’t answering my calls. Akim is the next best thing.”
“And you don’t think this could be a trap?”
“It could.” I pull up outside a small run-down house. “But I have a little something that Akim is keen to keep out of Pavel’s earshot for now at least.”
He nods, unclipping his seatbelt as I switch off the engine. “What is this place?”
“This, Zak, is your worst fucking nightmare. For men like you and me anyway.” I exit the car, meeting Zak at the other side as he gets out.
The outside is drab as fuck. Curtains crudely and haphazardly hung in the windows with a faint glow of red seeping out from inside. The front door has seen better days with scuff marks, which look like shoe prints, and the small window has a large crack right down the middle held together with tape.
As we walk up the path, the front door opens, and the cloying scent of floral perfume and sex assaults me. I chance a quick glance at Zak to see if he’s cottoned on yet and find his nose scrunched.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters under his breath.
The guy at the door is a big beefy fucker, one of Akim’s men who came to my garage before shit turned even more shittier.
With a greeting nod to each other, Zak and I step inside. “Is he here?”
“He is in the room at the end.”
The guy closes the door and follows us as we walk down the hall. The sickly scent is even stronger inside, and the unmistakable sound of people fucking, intermittently peppered with a scream or cry of pain, gets louder the further we go.
The door to one of the rooms is partially open, and as we pass it, I look inside. A young girl, no more than eighteen or nineteen is on her hands and knees as a bald, pot-bellied guy fucks her from behind. But it is the guy ramming his cock down her throat that is the cause of the choking sounds and pool of saliva gathering on the floor.
The guy who let us in barks something in Russian, and while my Russian is a little sketchy, I understood that just fine; “You can get your cock sucked later. Business now.”
If the grunts and groans that follow are anything to go by, it’s too late.
I don’t bother knocking as we reach the door at the end and waltz right on in.
Akim stands as we enter, and the room becomes cramped as both the guy who let us in and his friend—doing his jeans up—join us.
“Carter,” Akim says, pointing to one of four chairs positioned around a square table.
I take the seat offered while Zak refuses and instead takes up a position just behind me with a view of the room and the three men.
“Where’s Lev?” I ask.
“I’m not his fucking keeper. What is this about?”
I look at the two other guys then to Akim. “What do you know about the hit on Perry Graham?”
He laughs. “And now you wish to talk.” Speaking in Russian, he orders the other two from the room. Once they leave, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know you took him out on Lev’s orders.”
“And does Pavel know this?” I rest one foot on my knee, relaxing back in my chair. I sense Zak’s unease behind me even though Akim is outnumbered.
Akim’s eyes flick between us before resting on me. “Initially, no.”
“But?” I press. “Come on, Akim. Or maybe I need to ask what your brother knows?”
His eyes narrow, and he huffs out a sigh. “Lev bought Kir in on whatever fucking deal he had going on. Pavel didn’t know until after you took Graham out.”
My brow lifts at that. “You telling me that Pavel had no clue what his son was up to behind his back? I find that fucking hard to believe.”