Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
"What news?"
"Your boy Ivan Sedov is dead. So are Maksim Semenova and some dude with a gap between his teeth and a cross tattooed on the side of his neck. Don't know his fucking name, but yeah, he's mertvyy too. That is how you say dead, right?" Kincaid shrugs like he doesn't care if he's using the correct word or not, though I have a feeling he speaks Russian as fluently as I do.
A brief moment of surprise flares in Tarasova's eyes, there and gone so quickly anyone else would have missed it, but I was waiting for his reaction. He didn't know three of his people died tonight. Which means Milonov didn't tell him what went down.
"Shit," Kincaid laughs, clearly not missing his reaction either. "You didn't know, did you? Then I guess I have some more bad news for you, motherfucker."
"You want to tell him, or should I?" I ask, looking right at Milonov.
"Poshol nahuj," he says without even blinking.
"Tell me what?" Tarasova asks.
"That Sedov, Semenova, the other dead guy, and your homeboy here tried to kill Detective Hernandez and Faith Donovan tonight," Kincaid says, nodding at Milonov. His expression hardens. "Obviously that didn't work out well for them. Your people are dead, but mine are straight, which is also bad news for you, Tarasova. Because I had to leave my girl in bed alone to come deal with this shit. And if I have a problem, you damn sure have a problem."
"He's lying," Milonov says.
"8TLV177."
Tarasova looks at me.
"The license plate on the car he was driving," I say, my voice lethally soft. "I shot out the driver's side window and the back window. There's also damage to the driver's side mirror." I flick my gaze from Tarasova to Milonov. "You shouldn't have driven your own car, pendejo."
Milonov doesn't react. He really is a stone-cold son of a bitch.
"Why are you telling me this?" Tarasova asks.
"Because I wanted to look you in the eyes when I tell you that they signed your death warrant tonight, Tarasova," I murmur, keeping my voice soft. "I'm coming for you, and I'm going to fuck up your entire world. You're going to watch it all crumble before I finally let you die."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he lies, though he can't hide the flash of anger in his gaze at my threat. Nor can he hide the way his jaw clenches, his teeth grinding together. I don't think he's particularly happy to hear that his people not only did this without his consent, but that they just screwed him in the process.
"Is that really how you want to play this?" Kincaid shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. He pops open the truck door and then grabs the small stack of papers off the dashboard. When he climbs back out of the truck, Tarasova and Milonov both reach for the guns tucked in their waistbands like they expect him to turn around and start shooting. He simply shoots them a look of disgust and hands over the copied notes.
"What is this?" Tarasova asks, glancing between the two of us, and then down at the papers in his hands.
"Fodder," Kincaid says. "Enough of it to send your entire operation up in flames."
"You thought you had her beaten, but you didn't. She remembers everything you did to her, every word you said around her, and every move you made." I point at the papers in his hands, unable to keep the pride out of my voice. "Those are just a small part of what we have on you. She's identified every Bratva member she's ever set eyes on, every suspected crime she's ever connected to you and your buddies. Names, dates, we have it all."
"Coupled with what we already know about your operation and your movements…well, I hope you have a hell of a lot of water on hand, Tarasova," Kincaid says. "Because the girl you terrorized is about to burn this motherfucker to the ground." He gives Tarasova a vicious smile, his steely blue-gray eyes ice cold. "Never fucking come for my family again. Faith Donovan is under my protection. Get a leash on your goddamn dogs, and remove the hit, or I'll put them down one by one, and then come for you personally. You have three days before shit starts to get real motherfucking uncomfortable for you. You feel me?"
Tarasova glares at him but isn't stupid enough to push his buttons or test him.
"Get the fuck out of my sight, and take this big piece of shit with you," Kincaid says, pointing at Milonov.
Tarasova turns on his heel and starts to walk away, Milonov following behind him.
"Milonov."
He turns back to me.
I pull the trigger, not even flinching. His eyes meet mine, a look of shock crossing his face like he can't believe I've actually shot him in his own neighborhood. And then he hits the ground.