Zaal kill the men. My instinct to shed blood was hard to taper down.
I worked on breathing, releasing the knuckle-dusters from my hands. Zaal walked back through his men. Avto rushed forward, and with Zaal standing at the front each of the men, one by one, came forward and kissed Zaal’s hand to pledge his loyalty.
When the last man had bowed at Zaal’s feet, Zaal ordered them to gather around closely. I moved beside him. Zaal’s body was still tense when he said, “You will have two days to gather your things and move to Brighton Beach. Avto will be given the assignment of houses and place you in your positions of work.” The men all nodded.
“Then our priority will be finding my sister. Starting with any information we can find about the Georgians that have recently moved into town.”
Zaal had opened his mouth to speak again when a male, about thirty years old, raised his hand. “Lideri,” he said timidly, “I currently work here on the docks. My father, who has not long passed, placed us here years ago to watch out for any signs of our enemies. The Jakhuas.”
“And?” Zaal pushed.
“I saw Jakhua when he came back last year. He stayed in a house not too far from the docks. I didn’t see you, Lideri, but I saw him. My cousin”—he pointed to a man across the room—“my cousin works at the airfield, refueling the planes. He was there weeks ago when a private plane landed.”
I focused on the cousin and asked, “Who was in it?”
I’d spoken to him in Georgian, and stepping forward the male said, “There was a woman that dressed in all black, with what looked like a private protection of men, dressed in black, too.” He shook his head. “But there was also someone else. A hugely built man that was dressed all in black, a hood covering his head. But it was strange. He looked like he was their captive. The men were pushing him by his arms, his wrists cuffed behind his back.”
The male shook his head and raised his hand to his throat. “I saw a quick glimpse of his face when he passed. He didn’t look Georgian.” The male pointed at me. “He looked more Russian, like the knyaz. But what was strange was that he had a metal collar around his neck. He had a number of scars that were slashed down and across his face. He was the scariest motherfucker I’ve ever seen in my life.” The male looked to his cousin, then back to us. “His sweatshirt was open, and across his chest he had a tattoo. It was a number, one nine … something else. It just all seemed really weird.”
My eyes snapped to Zaal, but Zaal was already watching me. I knew what he was thinking. Who the hell was the male? If he had a tattoo, he was a slave to someone. He was one of us. Ice filled my veins when Kisa’s words from earlier circled my head: I have this awful feeling that there is more still to come. Nothing about this entire situation feels right. Right now I was having the same damn feeling.
Zaal looked to the male who’d first spoken, and said, “Why did you mention Jakhua to me?”
The male’s eyes widened, but he explained, “My cousin, before he worked at the airfield, worked with me at the docks. He recognized the woman from the plane, as the woman that would frequently visit Jakhua at the docks.”
Zaal’s hands balled at his sides. Seeing the brother about to lose it, I flicked my chin to Avto and said, “Take the men away. Have them moved to Brighton Beach as soon as possible.”
The men looked confused but left the room following behind Avto. When the door shut, Zaal threw his head back and screamed out. I stood beside him, waiting for him to calm down. Instead he paced.
“A female that knew Jakhua!” he spat, his voice low and rough. “The Pakhan was right. Jakhuas had someone coming for me, and instead they have taken Zoya. They’ve taken my fucking sister!” Zaal panted, and his hands ripped open his jacket and he threw it to the floor. He loosened his tie and, turning to the nearest wall, sent his hand plowing through the wood.
“Even from death that cunt is destroying my family!” He stopped, then faced me. “And the slave with a tattooed number across his chest? Who the hell is that? Did