Cruel Enforcer by Maggie Cole

14

Sergey

Wes,his three thugs who were with him at the Cat's Meow, and the bodyguard Adrian had by the throat, all hang in the air naked, upside down.

I take a chair and put it directly in front of Wes. I grab a fifth of vodka and a shot glass. For hours, I focus solely on Wes as Maksim tortures him. Every time Wes cries out, I laugh or take another shot. It's the same as he did the night his father tortured me. Something about it seems justified. The only problem is I wasn't even thirteen. Wes is closer to Maksim's age. So he would have been around twenty-four when his father branded the devil's symbol on me.

No matter how many men I've tortured and killed, two things are always off-limits: women and children.

The Petrovs have no boundaries. It's a deeper level of evil to watch a boy get tortured and find humor in it. While my brothers, Adrian, and Obrecht work on Wes's thugs, I wait for Maksim to get his wrath out of him enough to comprehend I'm waiting. One thing about Maksim and Dmitri, they don't have the patience Boris and I do. So I tap into every ounce I have, telling myself when I do get my turn at Wes, it'll be worth the wait.

It could be afternoon or nighttime the next day before Maksim finally realizes I'm due a turn.

I've had half the fifth of vodka, but I don't feel it. I've put my rage on simmer. I'm about to bring it to a boil and let it overflow.

There's only one thing I want to do to Wes. The devil resides in a burning pit of flames. It's only appropriate he gets a glimpse of the rest of his eternity.

"I have been selfish. You've been patient," Maksim says.

I take a hit of my joint and hand it to Maksim. "You might want to sit back and chill out for a while."

To my surprise, Maksim takes the joint, inhales, and sits. He doesn't usually smoke.

I pat his shoulder and grab the gas can and flame extinguisher. "Adrian. Obrecht."

They step away from the thugs who had Skylar and Kora on their laps and join me. "Help me rotate him."

We turn Wes so he's no longer hanging upside down. His head falls forward. If I didn't know better, I would think he was dead. I'm not sure if Adrian, Obrecht, Maksim, or I hate Wes more.

Adrian takes the flat blade of his knife and holds it to Wes's chin so he's looking him in the eye. In Russian, he states, "Your father kidnapped our Natalia. He threw her in his whorehouse and gave her to you as a gift. Once Sergey is done with you, we will have our turn."

Obrecht nods to me.

I dip my knife in the gasoline and begin carving the sign of the devil on his back. Every slice is with precision. I make sure it's enough gasoline to get on his skin but doesn't roll down his back. My cuts are shallow enough to cause pain but not enough to put him in shock or make him lose too much blood.

Obrecht and Adrian cross their arms. Scowls fill their faces. Wes cries out and screams for me to kill him.

Obrecht steps forward and holds his knife to his balls. In Russian, he says, "This is tame compared to what my brother and I will do to you."

Tears fall down Wes's face as I continue to slice his back. When I finish, I nod to Maksim.

"Boris, Dmitri!" he yells, comes over, and hands the joint to Adrian.

Dmitri picks up the fire extinguisher.

Boris grabs the lighter.

Maksim steps in front of Wes and leans into his ear. In Russian, he murmurs, "You watched my brother get tortured and laughed. Nothing will ever make up for it. We're going to light you on fire and brand you. Then we're putting it out so my cousins can slice your balls into pieces. When you pass out, we're going to wake you up and feed them to you. It still won't make up for what your family has done to ours. When you take your last breath, you better be ready. We're coming for you in hell. Your true punishment will be far worse than anything we can do to you on this earth." Maksim sniffs hard, steps back, and motions to Boris.

Boris flicks the lighter, and the symbol I perfectly outlined erupts in flames.

Wes screams, and after twenty seconds, I say to Dmitri, "Put it out."

Everyone steps back, and Dmitri releases the fire extinguisher on him. White foam covers his back, and Wes's cries become whimpers.

I look at Obrecht and Adrian. "Cut off his balls."

Wes doesn't last too much longer. When he takes his last breath, I go up to the man who wouldn't release Kora from his lap at the Cat's Meow. I have my brothers help me put him on his feet as well.

"Remember me?"

He pisses, but it isn't the first time of the night. There's already a large puddle on the ground.

"Shh," I murmur in his ear and stroke his cheek.

He shakes harder. "Let me go," he barely gets out in Russian.

"That's what my woman asked you to do. Since you wouldn't let her go, I'm not letting you go, either."

The next few hours, I take my time torturing him. All I keep thinking of is him holding my lapa against her will.

When all the men are no longer breathing, I'm not sure what day it is. I'm still in my killing trance. I help Obrecht and Adrian incinerate the bodies until there's nothing left but ashes. Adrian and I dispose of them in Lake Michigan, which isn't far from the garage.

I only begin to snap back into reality when we're back and I've showered. I stare at my back in the mirror.

Wes is dead. Zamir is still alive.

I step out of the bathroom. Obrecht and Adrian are sitting at the desk in the garage.

"The balance is off. The Rossis will have more power now," Obrecht states. He said it days ago when we first got to the garage.

I sit in the other chair. "I told Boris we need to bleed Zamir out. Slowly kill him, find out about every part of his operation, and take it over. If we run it, we can slowly destroy it all. If we only kill Zamir, it won't ever fully die."

"Boris go crazy on you?" Obrecht asks.

I shrug. "He didn't like it."

"What did Maksim say?"

I snort. "Boris didn't tell him. You know what Maksim and Dmitri would both say. I thought Boris would have my back so we could approach them, but he didn't."

"That's because you're talking crazy. We let this Rossi/Petrov war play out. One by one, each side gets smaller. Then we kill Zamir. Nothing will be left at that point," Adrian insists.

"It sounds too easy to me," I claim.

"I hope it is." Obrecht rises. "Let's get out of here."

We leave and go home. I walk into my penthouse, go into the kitchen to grab a water, and pull out my phone. I turn it on, and while I'm waiting for the screen to light up, my gut drops.

The basketball tickets are on the counter.

"Fuck," I growl and close my eyes. I didn't think about it. The only thing I thought about the last few days was the task at hand.

Fuck, I'm an idiot.

My phone turns on. The screen reads, Tuesday. I quickly pull up my text messages and read the one dated Sunday at four thirty.

Kora: Hey, did I get the time wrong? Did you say four?

I hit the call button, but the ringtone pattern sounds off. She doesn't answer, and it doesn't go to voicemail. I try again, but I get the same results.

I text her.

Me: Kora, something happened. Please let me explain. I tried calling, and it just rings. I don't think your voicemail is on. Please call me.

I send the message, but it never says delivered. I send several more, but nothing happens. Then it hits me.

She blocked me.

My chest tightens, and I text my driver to meet me downstairs. I get in the car and go to her place, but no one answers when I ring her bell. I glance at my watch and realize it's only two and a workday.

Where will she be?

I get back in the car and call her office. Her assistant tells me she isn't available.

"Is she in court?" I ask.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't disclose Ms. Kilborn's schedule."

I hang up, unsure of what to do.

Selena. She would be in court with her.

I decide it's quicker to go several blocks to the apartment and see if Selena is there. If she isn't, then there is a good chance Kora's in court, and I can wait for her outside.

I go to Serenity Plaza and bypass security. I knock on Selena's door, and she opens it. Her face is a mix of curiosity and fear. "Sergey. Come in." She opens the door wider.

My heart sinks, knowing Kora won't be in court, and I'm not sure where to find her. I step inside. "Hey, Selena. Are you doing okay?"

She nods and smiles. "Yes. We were just discussing you. I'm-I'm glad you're here."

"We?"

"Kora and me."

"You were talking to her?"

"Yes. She's here."

My pulse beats so hard, I almost get dizzy. "What were you discussing me for?"

"Come in," Selena says and motions for me to follow her.

I take a deep breath and go farther inside.

Kora is standing at the window with her back toward me, talking on the phone. She's in a black suit. Her hair is in a sleek bun, showcasing her long neck and sculpted cheekbones. The hot-pink collar of her blouse matches her heels. Her hand is on her waist, and she says, "I need it taken care of before five."

Please don't hate me, my lapa.

I need you to forgive me.

"Thank you." She hangs up, spins, and when she sees me, her face pales.

"Since Sergey is here, we can ask him all my questions now," Selena says.

Kora regains her color. Her cheeks turn red, and her face hardens. Her tone is curt when she says, "Yes. Let's all get clear on what the situation is so we don't assume one thing when reality is another."

I love everything about Kora's piranha ways, but as I imagined, and quickly confirm, being on the receiving end sucks.