The Enforcer (Chicago Bratva #3) - Renee Rose Page 0,55

to bring him back.

Oleg

I blink, trying to open my eyes, but even when I do, I can’t see. I shift. My wrists are bound. There must be a bag over my head.

I’m still alive.

I’m surprised by that fact.

At dawn, I walked outside the Kremlin and stood outside the building to wait.

I stood motionless for three hours, and then a black limo pulled up across the street and parked. When no one got out, I waited a few minutes, then crossed the street and opened the door to the back seat.

It was empty.

“Get in,” the driver said, without looking back at me. He was American. Possibly a thug for hire. He drove to a private airstrip and parked. There, the back doors were simultaneously opened by two more thugs—also American—who told me to get out and get on the plane—a small jet parked on the tarmac. I walked up the steps. The moment I arrived at the top, someone stabbed a needle into my neck. I didn’t fight them or the drug. I just looked around for Skal’pel’ before I topped into the waiting arms of the two thugs who’d followed me in.

I never saw him.

He may never have been in Chicago at all.

That fit. He wouldn’t risk his own neck to get me.

I test my bonds. My wrists are bound in front with what feels like zip ties. I’m sitting upright in a comfortable seat—the jet’s chair, maybe?

“You’re awake.” The mild-mannered voice of my former boss reaches my ears. He’s speaking in Russian.

The bag comes off. We are on the jet—at least, I think it’s the same jet, but it may be a different one. Skal’pel’ sits across from me in an expensive tailored suit. I don’t recognize his face—he’s changed it. But I would remember the voice anywhere. And his body frame hasn’t changed, other than a few extra pounds.

I don’t move. I have no fight in me. My only plan was to surrender to this man to save Story.

“I appreciate the way you operate, Oleg.”

The routine is familiar. The fond way he looks at me. The praise. Then he’ll tell me what he wants with a total and complete expectation that I will deliver.

And I always did.

He leans forward and pulls my lower eyelid down, like he’s inspecting my pupil. “Are you all there? All the way back?”

I don’t answer.

“Oleg?” That quiet, expecting tone coaxes a nod out of me before I realize I’m giving it.

He lifts a finger, and a thin guy with a mustache appears with a bottle of water, which he opens and hands to Skal’pel’. My former employer leans forward and brings the bottle to my lips.

I don’t want to accept his help, but the moment the water enters my mouth, I swallow greedily. The tranquilizer made me cotton-mouthed and thirsty.

“You did the right thing. Your little songbird will be safe. No more bullets on the rooftop.”

Fuck. That was him. I guess I knew deep down it had to be.

I don’t move. If this were a movie, I would struggle against my bonds. Lunge out like I wanted to kill him for talking about hurting my girl. But it’s not a movie. I hang on his every word, needing to hear the rest of them.

I’ve been waiting twelve years for closure. To know why he abandoned me. Balled me up like a used rag and then lit me on fire and left me to burn.

“I never knew what sort of woman would turn your head, but I knew she’d have to be unusual. It’s personality for you, isn’t it? Not that your Story isn’t lovely. But you never looked twice at normal beauty. You were unmoved by the perfect tits or a nice pair of long legs. It takes a special one to captivate you.”

I scowl.

“I’m sorry, Oleg.” Skal’pel’ considers me. “You were never anything but loyal to me. You always did what I asked. Performed better than any man I’ve hired since. But your size made you too hard to hide.” He offers me another drink, and I take it. “Changing your face wouldn’t have worked. And keeping you with me would’ve been a tell for my old identity. I had to cut you loose and ensure no one would come after you.”

God help me, it’s all I can do to keep the skepticism from my expression.

“I left you money. Enough to make you a rich man when you got out.” His expression turns to disappointment, like I’m the one who let him