The warehouse’s main parking lot started filling up like a boxing match in Vegas. Every kind of pimped out truck, car, and SUV known to man was pulling into the place. Many had participated in the car show earlier.
Oleg, Roksana, and Bazarnik were joined by Dmitriy and Anastasia. Anastasia had been the most recent addition to the crew until Bazarnik came along. Glazov had seen her potential and given her a new life and new identity as a Bratva assassin. He had quickly recognized her deviant potential after she killed her crooked cop of an ex-husband and took out a few others along the way.
During her initial training, Anastasia had met Dmitriy. Bratva had given her a new look: stick-straight, jet black hair cut in a blunt bob, emerald green contact lenses. But Dmitriy had liked what he saw from the start, but he fell for her killer instincts. Now he just needed to convince her to marry him. But first things first.
They crouched between the trees on the hill overlooking the warehouse, each looking through high-powered binoculars that had been fitted with cameras.
“I want those fucking dogs out of there before you blow that place up,” Roksana hissed at Bazarnik.
“One thing I’ve never been accused of is animal cruelty,” Bazarnik said to her with a wink.
“Motherfucker, you better watch that twitchy eye of yours,” Dmitriy warned. “You don’t want Oleg breaking every bone in your hands. Then you wouldn’t be able to play with matches.”
“Right. I also couldn’t rig buildings to blow up, which is another hobby I happen to enjoy.”
“Yeah, other people knit but you blow Bratva enemies up. Speaking of that, you got the set-up done so fast. You sure it’s all good?” Dmitriy wondered aloud. “No disrespect, man, but the question has to be asked.”
“Gee, I guess I don’t know what the hell I’m doing after all.” A wicked grin crossed Bazarnik’s face with an ease that made Dmitriy wonder just how deep and dark the trouble in his soul went. Bazarnik was the kind of guy who scared the shit out of people without even trying. It wasn’t the piercings or the tattoos that did it, it was something that went much deeper, that shone in his eyes.
Bazarnik had always likened his energy to an active volcano; the people nearby learned to live with the constant threat of an eruption, they just didn’t know how or when it would happen. The best thing that could be done was to not move your house on the side of the mountain that the lava would be flowing down like a lake of fire.
Long ago, Bazarnik had gone to Guatemala to do some work for the Glazovs. The memory of standing on a veranda and watching a live volcano had stayed with him. The thing that had struck him most was that people had built their houses on the side of the mountain that housed the live volcano. When the volcano inevitably erupted, it would incinerate everything and everyone in its path. He couldn’t wrap his brain around why anyone would choose to live in such a state of false security.
As he watched the two couples working so smoothly together, Bazarnik wondered if any woman would ever be right for him. Did such a woman even exist? And in the ultimate irony, would being with him put her in perpetual brace mode—waiting for the force of nature that was Bazarnik to be unleashed on her?
Oleg’s attention was focused on his woman, who was gritting her teeth as she peered through her binoculars. It was never a good sign when her emotions showed because her emotions always went far deeper than what was revealed on her face. If she looked mad, she was furious. If she looked happy, she was ecstatic. Everything was always over the top with her. She was as deadly as any of the men who worked for her father. Of all the children, Oleg thought she was the most like her aunt Vladimira, but without the benefit of time to hone her sharp edges. As smart as Roksana was, there was wisdom that only came with the passing of time.
“What is it?” he asked as he studied her scowling face.
“There is no room for error tonight, everything has to go perfectly. And we are so fucking outnumbered.”
He kept his voice low so that only she could hear. “Roksana…if you keep it simple, we can blow this place up and be out of here before anybody knows what happened. Saving the dogs is what’s making this suicide.”
She lowered her binoculars and glanced over at him smugly. “We aren’t going in to get them.” Oleg visibly relaxed, his relief palpable...but short-lived. “They’re going to come to us.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head, resigned to the fact that she was the only woman in the world that he would put his life on the line for because of a bunch of fucking dogs.
“Well,” he grumbled, “I can’t wait to see how you plan to do that. I can tell you this right now, though: somebody’s getting their fucking fingers broken over this shit.”
Roksana smiled before turning around and resuming surveillance. But she knew he was right. What they were doing could very well be suicide. But her heart wouldn’t listen. When she thought of the plight of those dogs, she didn’t see aggressive beasts who were beyond redemption. She saw battle-hardened warriors who would be doomed to a death sentence unless someone intervened. She’d never be able to look at herself in the mirror if she didn’t do something to make it right. The threat of danger was ever-present, but whether it would manifest in the form of death remained to be seen.