The Enforcer (Chicago Bratva 3)

When it’s time to bail.

And the longer the minutes stretch until Oleg is back, the stronger the feeling grows.

I get bundled into the back of Oleg’s Denali with Nikolai and Dima in front, and we leave, along with two other vehicles, for some private airstrip I’ve never heard of.

It’s snowing. Thick, wet flakes that hit the windshield and melt the minute they touch it. Nikolai drives. Dima brings a laptop along and is searching things as we drive, making short comments to his brother in Russian, then pausing to throw an apologetic smile over his shoulder at me.

The nervous buzzing grows louder, so I can’t think about anything. I can’t remember if I’ve eaten anything today. I don’t think I have. My lips are dry, my throat is parched.

Vaguely, I realize I have to perform tonight at Rue’s. It seems like last night’s performance was a lifetime ago.

When we get there, Nikolai turns around and says, “I’m going to need you to wait in the Denali, okay? Please don’t come out, or you’ll be an accessory to anything you see out there. Understand?”

I think I nod. I’m not sure. My brain is barely functioning.

And then I’m alone in the vehicle. I should be excited. I get to see Oleg. I thought he was dead, but he’s coming back to me.

Except it’s clear as day that there is no going “back.”

I’ll never feel the way I did last night again.

That moment has passed, and we are on to a new one. And in this one, I don’t even want to be here.

Sitting in the warmed seats, watching the sleet fall, I feel like I’m waiting for something awful to happen.

But what?

Is it Oleg coming back?

No.

It’s me breaking up with him.

That’s the gnawing anxiety. I know this isn’t right. I can’t do this thing with him.

Oleg

We land back at the same airstrip we took off from. I was able to communicate my desires to the pilot, who thinks I’m going to kill him.

He’s a talker. I sit in the co-pilot’s seat for the duration of the trip, and he’s one constant stream of monologue, nervous sweat dripping from his forehead.

I left the phone on speaker, so Maxim could hear everything, since he’ll have to fix this.

The pilot already told us he didn’t know Skal’pel’ very well but flew him in from Florida, and that’s where he had orders to fly back. He had enough fuel to turn the plane around and got clearance to land back in Chicago.

He says he doesn’t want to know what happened in the cabin of the plane, and as far as he’s concerned, it’s none of his business. Then he talked a lot about his wife and two small kids. How they’re expecting him home this afternoon, and he’s their only income.

After he lands the plane, Maxim lets him off the hook.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he tells him. “You’re going to stay in that cockpit until we’ve dealt with whatever went down in the cabin. Then I’m going to let you know it’s time to come out, we’ll pay you for your time, and you can go home to Sarah Jean and your sweet kids, Thomas and Flora on Andaluz Lane.”

The pilot draws a sharp breath at hearing that Maxim already knows his family’s details.

“You flew this plane for Dr. Armor—is that what you said his name was?”

“Yes, D-Dr. Armor,” the pilot stammers.

“Dr. Armor changed his mind about going back to the Florida Keys and asked you to turn the plane around. When you got here, he got off and told you he was staying for a while and wouldn’t need your services. He asked you to take a commercial flight back home. That was the last you heard from him. Understand?”

“Got it,” the pilot says quickly. “Absolutely.”

“You never saw anyone else on the plane.”

“Never.”

“Okay, stay where you are. If you move before I come for you, our arrangement will need to be reworked. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

The pilot shoots me a quick, frightened look.

“Oleg, we’re outside. Let us in.”

I go to the cabin to open the doors, and my brothers come in. Maxim does a quick sweep of the place, assessing, then gives orders. Pavel and Adrian get Skal’pel’s body out. Maxim and Ravil question the two thugs who are conscious. Like the pilot, they claim to know very little about Dr. Armor or his business, other than being his personal bodyguards.

“Story’s waiting in your Denali,” Nikolai says, handing me the keys.

“Go ahead,” Ravil says. “We’ll take care of this.”

I’m not a demonstrative guy. I don’t try to communicate often. But I stop and clasp the hand of each of my brothers and look into their eyes to show them how much it means to me that they have my back.

They are my family. I held myself back from them these last two years because of the wounds inflicted by Skal’pel’. The emotional ones, not the physical. But I’m done with that. I won’t give my loyalty where it isn’t deserved again. My future is with Story, and my family is here with me now.