Chapter FORTY THREE

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Colt Knox

Ideally, I wouldn't waltz right into the lion's den unarmed, but when it comes to The Russian Mafia there isn't much choice.. I can't exactly walk into their territory, cock my pistol and start making demands.. I don't have the leverage, or the desire to taste my own blood..

Dutifully, I raise my outstretched arms as an overweight Bratva bruiser who couldn't outrun me to save his life, pats me down, checking for the weapons I'd left out in the lockbox of my truck.. Along with Ace Greyson, who refused to let me come here alone..

The bruiser's heavy handed thumping at my back is surely meant to be an intimidating warning, a warning to watch myself when entering the back-alley downtown dice-house the Russki's call home turf..

A few days of tailing Konstantine had only proven the man is impossible to get to one on one.. Taking him in against his will would be a task that'd get me killed and Paxton had known it.. He'd sent me out here without so much as a scrap of assistance.. Washing his hands of the entire operation since he had warned me against getting involved in the first place.. I get that he wants to remain impartial to the contract, with my suspension in place he'd be putting everything on the line by assisting me.. But his withdrawn indifference has to be the final straw for me..

I've always done my job, followed orders, no questions asked.. But when I need a favour from Paxton, he's nowhere to be found..

Fucking typical..

Working alone, I've found the elusive enforcer Konstantin is one slippery son'of'a'bitch.. He is always surrounded by his cronies and when he isn't, he moves like a shadow.. Untraceable..

Following the guy had been beyond frustrating and a waste of time. Finally I had decided a head on approach would yield better results.. At a somewhat higher risk..

"Dvigat'sya!" Snaps the surly, slate-eyed Russki. Demanding me to move with him when he begins to lead me through to meet his boss..

I make my way across the casino floor, an alcoholic scent in the air like lighter fluid.. Winding through the tables towards the back offices I can only think about how stupid my plan is and how Greyson might be hauling my cold body back to Specter tonight of shit goes sideways...

The card dealers barely pay me any attention when I pass by, but the patrons at their tables, members of the brotherhood, all glare at me, pinning me as an outsider immediately.. Unknown and unwelcome in their territory..

"Zdraviya zhelayu.." I nod to them with cold, militant regard, not looking anyone in the eye for too long, or not long enough.. Every man in this room has a black mark on his record, as part of Bratva initiation it's a requirement, so I am well aware of the danger that surrounds me.. Still, the slightest show of weakness, a hint of fear could set off a chain reaction.. Like sharks scenting blood.. A reaction I'm not keen to see come about.. So I exude a false bravado and force myself forward,

The bruiser stops me at a dingy back-room door, holding up a hand to knock three sharp raps..

"Voydite!" Booms a response from the other side..

The door is pushed open and I am shoved forward to stagger into the back-room where four men sit around a red felt table, halfway through a game of Texas Hold'em and waiting on the river..

Konstantin rises to his feet, a curious grin on his face.. "Mr Knox, Comrade.. I waz wondering when a specter would next appear.." He pours out a glass of crystal clear vodka, holding it up.. "Come, join uz!"

"I'll drink your vodka, Ivanov, but I ain't here to play--" I step forward to accept his liquid offer, because turning it down would be sucicide and I'm not here to die.

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