The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(29)

“Don’t worry, he won’t move until I tell him. Now, where is Jetmir Besnik?”

Now, it didn’t seem like the Albanian was willing to be all that helpful. He hesitated, long enough to tick Luka off enough to dig his finger deeper. Mishca didn’t mind it, it made his job easier.

“You don’t know him,” he murmured, sniffing back tears. “I can’t.”

Mishca rolled his eyes at the simpering man kneeling in front of him, used to the familiar pleas of a man that feared betraying his boss. Of course Mishca was partly to blame. He was now pressing the barrel of his gun to the man’s forehead, but he doubted it was the man’s first time in the situation…though it might be his last.

“Where is he?” Mishca didn’t plan on asking a third time.

“H-He left the country!” The man exclaimed. He believed that as long as he was talking, he would be spared.

“Back to Albania?”

“Yes.”

That wasn’t enough.

Since Jetmir had fallen off the map after Mishca’s men had left him in a field, Mishca knew that he would flee back to his home country. What he really needed to know was what Jetmir was planning. Once they had found Brahim’s body—no matter that it was Klaus’ doing—Lauren was ‘in-blood’ with the Albanians. Like the Russians had their code of ethics, the Albanians had their own. To be considered ‘in-blood’ with the Albanians meant that no matter how long it took, that person was a dead man walking.

So long as Mishca breathed, he wouldn’t let them near her again, so if that meant killing them all one by one, he would gladly do it.

“I need to get into contact with him. Call him.”

“I don’t—I can’t. He has gone off grid, I swear it. No one can reach him now.”

Sighing, Mishca shifted the aim of his gun until it was pointed at the ground, just to the left of his ear.

He pulled the trigger.

The loud bang made the man shout in pain, his ruptured eardrum causing blood to trickle out of his ear. He clasped his hand there, but that did nothing to lessen the pain.

“One ear left,” Mishca said, tapping the gun against the man’s good ear.

“I swear! He can’t be found!”

“Then you are no longer use—”

The loud chiming of a phone made Mishca lower his weapon. They all looked around, trying to find the source of the noise, until Mishca pulled out his own Blackberry.

Lauren’s name appeared on the screen, a picture of her beaming face momentarily distracting him from his bleak surroundings.

“Moya globushka,” he answered with a smile, pointing the gun back at the man’s head.

“Mish!”

He pulled the phone away from his ear, the blaring music and her exclamation nearly rupturing his eardrum. Luka mimicked a whip with his hand, even going so far as to make the sound effect too.

“Mish, I need you to pick us up!” She was still yelling despite the music quieting down.

Judging from the way she sounded, Lauren was well past her limit of drinks.

“Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yea, yea, yea. I just it was a good idea and—no don’t take my phone—Mish, what was I saying? Do you have any strippers?”

“Tell me where you are and I’ll come.”

“But what about the strippers?”

Luka looked like he was dangerously close to laughing, even Vlad was trying not to smile.

Still ignoring that, he said, “Give me the address.”

She rattled it off to him, promising to call him back once she was done—though she never specified what she would be done with. Mishca shook his head as he pocketed his phone, returning his attention to the Albanian.

“Hey.” He tapped his gun against the man’s cheek, forcing his gaze up. “What’s Jetmir planning?”

“I don—”

He never got to finish that statement before Mishca fired, plugging a bullet into the man’s skull.

“That was a bit premature, no?” Luka asked, staring down at the body with a frown. “We could have at least tortured him a bit first.”

“He doesn’t know anything. Find another one, and when we finally get to one that actually knows something, maybe he’ll live.”



It took no time at all for Mishca to get back to the city, parking his car a few blocks down from the bar Lauren had said they were in. As he walked, he double-checked his appearance, making sure there wasn’t anything on his clothing to make Lauren question where he’d been, not that she would be able to discern it in her intoxicated state.

Actually, he was kind of looking forward to seeing her carefree, with her guard down. She had used to be like that, always so cheerful, but some days he felt like he sucked that joy out of her by showing her his world.

In some ways, he felt like he had tainted her and he regretted that, but not enough to let her go.

When this was all over, and every threat against them was squelched, he would make it his duty to put a smile back on her face.

The bar wasn’t particularly crowded when Mishca entered, but his eyes had automatically went to Lauren where she was at the bar, throwing back another shot as Alex—as well as a group of people surrounding them—cheered her on. Amber was off to the side, speaking to a man that had his body angled away from Mishca, but judging from the expression on her face, she was enjoying his company.