Glazov

“What are you doing, Glazov? You never wear jeans and a t-shirt. Though, I’ll admit you look damn good dressed in tight clothing with that long ass hair of yours pulled back. I get the distinct impression you’re going out to do surveillance on someone. Who the fuck is it, Glazov?”

I chuckle at my wife and decide it will be fun to piss her off.

“Do I detect a note of jealousy?”

I watch my wife as she turns to glare at me, and I can’t resist the urge to rub it in a bit more.

“I’d take you with me, but I’d have to add your name to my hit list if I did.”

“If I follow you and find out you’re tailing some bitch, you’ll be on mine.”

“Well, as much as I would enjoy your company today, I don’t think you can stomach watching Antonio Wayne in action.”

At that point, my nosy wife interrupts.

“The Colombian thug?”

“That’s what his wife calls him, and I really am going to have to kill you if you ever attempt leaving me, Kathleen. You know too damn much.”

“I think I’ll pass on tagging along. It isn’t the fact that I can’t deal with a sadist; I just have my hands full with the one I have. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m nosy though, so fill me in later.”

“You are the furthest thing from the stereotypical Bratva wife. You are way too interested in the business I conduct. Do not follow me, Ptichka. Antonio is crazy, and I can assure you, you won’t be able to stomach his methods of torture. The guy is a full-blown sadist. You don’t want to see him in action, even if it is via live video streaming.”

“I have no desire to watch Antonio Wayne filet one of his enemies. Have fun, dear.”

She’s such a smart-ass. Only my wife can find humor in what I do. I grab my leather jacket and quickly descend the stairs two steps at a time. To Novak and me, this is almost like watching entertainment; the only thing missing for us is the popcorn. There aren’t many things I enjoy more than seeing the competition at work and getting a feel for how they operate. Hell, I might even get some new ideas from watching him work his magic. Mastering the art of torture is an ongoing learning process, and I would like to think I’m capable of more than just cutting off victim’s body parts to get the Intel I want. When I open the door, I see my cousin already waiting outside for me, standing by his sports car.

“I’m not sure how crazy I am about riding with the top down; I’m accustomed to bulletproof glass.”

“I’ll be able to drive fast because it’s an open road, cuz. It’s hard to hit a moving target.”

“I don’t want to be a fucking target at all, Novak!”

“It’s boys’ day out. Just roll with it.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“It’s in the DNA, baby. Our whole family is nuts.”

We speed down the driveway and out onto the open highway, heading toward River Road. That particular street is known for being used for drag racing, so I’m not surprised when Novak opens up the engine to see what his car can do. Thankfully, the road is clear of traffic, so the ride to the warehouse is over quickly.

The warehouse is close to the Dauntless MC’s compound, and they keep an eye on things when we aren’t around. I deal guns to them, and they have become close allies in the business.

Our Shestyorkas have already safely delivered the arms to the warehouse in New York and set up the hidden surveillance. Now, we only have the task of climbing up the stairs to the warehouse attic. We have set up quite the man cave here in Louisville. Normally, it serves as a great place for us to unwind, somewhere we can relax and, perhaps, play a few games of poker. The downstairs area is usually where we bring an enemy that needs a little extra incentive to talk. Many of my men like watching these interrogations, so we started adding on to the man cave. It now has a big screen TV to watch boxing matches, plenty of vodka on hand, and enough lounge space to just shoot the shit between torture sessions. It’s a system I use: torture, rest, and repeat.

Some sessions have been known to last for days. This enables me to implement other techniques that enhance the victim’s pain and suffering. Things like sleep depravation and hunger are very effective tools in breaking down a person’s will to remain silent. It can take days to achieve the perfect concoction, and it’s specific to each individual. Many of the prisoners I abduct for Intel are trained soldiers for my opposition. There is no sense in my boys not having the comforts of home while an enemy is being detained. I want my Bykis to have a nice place to stay when they have bodyguard duty at the warehouse, and the attic comes in handy for just that. It is a huge area, complete with sleeping quarters, a game room, and an office area with state of the art electronics, surveillance, and computers.

When Novak and I finally get to the top of the stairs, we are like two kids going to the movie theater. Maybe we will get that popcorn…