Bad Boy Soldier (Bad Boy 3)

"That's Old Number 8, George Dickel Tennessee sipping whiskey," he said and nodded to his glass. "Drink it down. You'll need it after your morning."

I took a sip and sighed as the whiskey burned down my throat.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said finally. "We wanted to check out the security video feed we recovered from the bank and from a store across the street first to verify your actions relating to the robbery. You can understand."

I shrugged, knowing exactly what he meant. Because of my family's background, they wanted to see whether I was part of the heist or had truly tried to stop it.

"Tell me what happened," he said. "Tell me everything. From the start. When you're done, Special Agent Gladwell here wants to talk to you about the FBI's case against the Romanov family, who we think was involved in the robbery. I want to hear what you have to say first. You should know that we already have the video feed from the cameras and were able to ID you from our database."

I leaned back in my chair and nodded. I recounted the events of the morning, from the time I entered the bank to the end, explaining that I’d decided to use my skills as a former special operator to disrupt the robbery.

They listened without comment.

"You called in the hit and stopped it," Barlow said, smiling at me over his glass when he took a sip. "But we don't want it to get out who you are."

"I understand. Neither do I."

"Why did you do it?"

"Because I could," I said. "It's very simple. I have skills. I used them. That’s really all there is to it."

Gladwell nodded. "The suspects we have in custody are low-level grunts in the Romanov empire. You should know that if the Romanov family discovers it was you at the bank, you've probably gotten your family in whole lot of trouble with them. Consider this a warning. There may be repercussions. You should have just left things the way they were."

"Warning received and acknowledged."

“What you did was heroic but stupid. If they figure out it was you, they'll now be on you and your family."

"Too late at this point," I said and downed the rest of the whiskey. "I did what I was trained to do—respond. They could have killed people."

Barlow smiled but said nothing.

"When they come to your father's gym and mess him up in revenge for the botched robbery, you'll be singing a different tune."

I shrugged but, of course, I knew there might be blowback. "I've got ample security in place."

"Look," Gladwell said, standing up straight. "The reason I'm here is because we want to use you. You're a soldier by training. You have special operations experience. We want you to work for us. We've been watching you for a while, and we want you to keep us informed of what you hear and what, if anything, happens in your family business that is at all connected to the Romanovs."

"You want me to help you take down the Romanov family?"

"Yes," Gladwell said. "You're the perfect man in the perfect position. You could insinuate yourself with the Romanovs and then once you get enough evidence, you can help bring them down. I imagine you'd be happy to do that, considering that your brother's dead because of them."

"He's dead because of one of your men," I replied, my body tensing.

"He's dead because he overreacted.”

I glowered at him but said nothing more.

“Look, the new DA's been dying to take down your uncle for a decade or more. He finally got some good intel and that's what led to your uncle being served with a RICO warrant. One of the Romanov boys provided a bit of evidence to help take Donny down."

I frowned. "What?"

"Yes," Gladwell said. "The DA has a confidential informant in the Romanov family who helped us take your uncle down. I figure if you help us take the Romanovs down, it's payback."

I sighed, and considered Gladwell's offer seriously. I had nothing against the FBI—usually. They were that thin line between order and chaos in a free society.

I had something against one FBI agent in particular—the one who killed my brother. Still, I wanted to protect my father and brothers from any negative consequences of my actions, so I really had no choice.

"What do you want me to do?"