Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“I’m looking for someone, a man just shy of six feet, unbalanced gait, has a tattoo of a pinup girl on the side of his neck,” I say as I describe what I remember about the shooter in the alley that night.
“Vlad?” he asks.
“I don’t know who Vlad is, but if he matches the description that I’ve just given you, then yes. Where can I find him?”
“Depends,” he shrugs. “What business do you have with him?”
“We have an old debt to settle,” I say. “Which is something that I’m sure you can respect.”
The bartender here has been working at this nightclub for a long while, ever since I can remember first setting foot in this place. He’s seen a lot come and go, I’m sure, and he’s put up with a lot of crap. I’m very good at reading people, and my impression of this guy is that he sticks to the “old school” mafia rules. If a debt needs to be paid, it’s not another man’s business to get involved in it.
“Well, depending on how old your debt with Vlad is,” he says, offering a bit of unsolicited insight. “You might find yourself dealing with a man different than who you remember.”
“How so?”
“Vlad used to be a low-level hitman. One of the Bratva’s soldiers who was sent out on the easy hits to earn his stripes. You know how it goes.”
Unfortunately, I know exactly how the hierarchy works. I was one of those grunt-level soldiers many years ago.
“Anyway, Vlad has since climbed the ranks. He’s a high-level man now. Rumor has it that he’s even being considered for a promotion again.”
“Thanks for that insight,” I nod. “But I don’t care whether he’s a foot soldier or a don himself. I just need to know where to find him, and then I’ll handle my business and be on my way.”
“Just don’t do anything stupid again while you’re in here,” he says as he tips his head toward a door at the back of the bar. “I doubt the boss will put up with any more of your antics, and I don’t want to have to clean up the mess he’ll make with you on my bar counter.”
I laugh, amused that he thinks his overweight bully of a boss would be a match for me in combat. He must not have heard all the rumors about me, or he’d know better than to question my fighting skills.
I nod in thanks and then head for the door.
Behind it, Vlad, the man whom I shot and “killed” that night in the alley, sits polishing his gun with the stump of a cigar hanging out of his mouth. Some might say that I missed that night, but they’d be wrong. I never miss.
“I always wondered when you’d come back to try and finish the job,” he sneers without looking up at me. “Never did figure out why you let me live that night. That shot you took was a brutal one, nicked my heart, and took me months to recover from. Nearly killed me, if I’m being honest. But it didn’t, and we both know that the Ghost has perfect aim, even in the dark.”
“I kept you alive because I thought that one day, I might need some answers from you,” I say as I walk toward him with my gun drawn. “Turns out, I didn’t. I was able to crack a crooked cop and get the answers that I needed, even without your help.”
“Ah, you got Detective Monroe to talk? That’s impressive. I thought that man would do anything to keep from admitting his crimes, even lose an eye or a leg. Guess I was wrong.” Vlad puts his gun down and sets his cigar into the ashtray at the center of the table.“So now that you don’t need me alive anymore, you came to kill me? You know there will be consequences for that, don’t you?”
“I didn’t come here to kill you,” I say. “I came here to bring you to justice.”
“Same thing, isn’t it?”
“Not in this case,” I shake my head as Vlad gets to his feet and walks with me out of the club, knowing that fighting me is useless. “In this case, Lady Justice has a name, and her name is Elle Monroe.”
“The girl from the alley?” he asks in surprise.
“She’s not a girl anymore. She’s the woman who’s going to decide your fate.”
The bartender watches me walk out with Vlad, looking surprised but staying quiet. When we reach my car, I put Vlad into the back with Hale Monroe and watch as the two of them exchange a silent look of realization that they are both out of chances to avoid retribution.
As I drive back to my apartment with my putrid cargo in the backseat to deliver to Elle, a smile spreads across my face. This feels good—this action of taking matters into my own hands again. I’ve spent the better part of my life frozen in inaction and watching from the outside looking in. Now, I act.