Page 10 of Sheltering Hollis

The sky shifted as the hours passed before the door rattled open, and a chance arrived.

EIGHT

Dimitri

Picking over our breakfast, Luka annoyed me. He was way too chirpy. “Why aren’t you enjoying this more? It’s a beautiful country. Beautiful food.” We hadn’t met before this. He was my lone Bratva companion in this mad journey to find Makarovich and put a bullet between his eyes. He’d been a soldier for my brother the entire time I’d been gone, but he seemed skilled enough.

“This humidity sucks,” I said grumpily, pulling my shirt away from my skin. Apparently, this was the chronic condition of living in Colombia. Misery. It wasn’t even nine o’clock, and already I felt soggy. It was gross. “And Rodriguez said our trip to the warehouse is delayed.”

Luka smiled indulgently at me like I was a toddler to manage, which annoyed me even more. Fucker. It was too bad I liked him, or I’d leave his body to rot in the jungle — let the maggots have him.

“Maybe Tomas can show us where he thinks some of these warehouses are?” he suggested, shoveling fruit into his mouth. The hotel brought gorgeous platters of tropical fruit to the penthouse each morning. I couldn’t fault the food. Luka was right about that.

“That’s the plan, brat,” I smirked.“We are going to scope them out in advance.”

“Right, I forgot that you spent the last few years slumming it. You know all about this stuff.” He gave me a Cheshire grin as he finished the last of his coffee, standing up. Luka was goading me at this point. He knew little about my time as a Sergeant of Arms for the Iron Brotherhood MC, and I guessed he was under orders to find out what he could so he could pass it on to Maxim. Too bad for him I wasn’t giving them shit.

“That’s right,” I winked and slapped him hard on the shoulder, hard enough so that his coffee cup sloshed liquid over his hand. “Oops.”

He glared at me as he mopped up the spill. “Let’s go, brat.” Russian for brother, brat was Luka’s go-to. Not that it wasn’t nice to hear again. Back when I lived at home, it was something I always heard. Now, it had a comforting familiarity to it that I had missed.

Climbing into the car, we quarreled over the heat and the food in a good-natured fashion, careful to speak in Russian. We spent hours cruising Bogotá’s winding streets while Tomas pointed out which territory belonged to Rodriguez and another cartel. Colombia was a hotbed of unrest, violence, and poverty. The roads were also complicated mazes, winding this way and that. It would not be easy to maintain territory here. Grudgingly, there was respect that I had for anyone who could do it. I could see that it would take balls.

“But you’re sure Makarovich has been sighted here, right?” I asked Tomas for what had to be the fourth time.

“Yes, boss,” he answered readily as he finally pulled up to the warehouse where Rodriguez had asked us to meet him.

I peered at it with dubious eyes. The Iron Brotherhood, my MC, had done a full deep dive on Makarovich. Before he fled here to Colombia, he wouldn’t have stepped foot in a shit hole like this. Anton Makarovich had been part of the Volkov Bratva, had been, being the operative term. The man was scum. He’d been caught red-handed dipping his toes into trafficking. The Volkovs wouldn’t be part of that. Maxim would be content to wait until Makarovich resurfaced in the States, but I wasn’t. Certainly, Maddox wasn’t. Just his existence in the world was a potential threat to Helena.

Miguel’s car pulled up next to ours, the heat pulsing in waves from the black paint. The sleek coupe was at odds next to the dilapidated building. Rodriguez exited the car, his grin spreading across his face, probably because he thought he’d scored such a lucrative partnership. I couldn’t believe this was working. Maxim thought I was crazy but had promised to keep his mouth shut if Rodriguez called and asked about it. I’d been 50/50 in my estimations about whether or not this would work. Right now, I wish I had bet everything.

“Dimitri,” he said, throwing his arms wide. “Luka. Good to see you. Are you ready to get rich?” He laughed loudly, casting his head to the sky like he was fucking high. He probably was.

Jesus. I was already as rich as Croesus. If I could, I’d shoot him right here if it wouldn’t cause a cartel war. “Can’t wait,” I deadpanned, gritting my teeth when Luka elbowed me, rousing me from the fantasy of pulling my gun out and ending the asshole. Slow and painful was more my style, anyway.

“Right this way, gentlemen. Prepare to be impressed. We have some prime merchandise.” Rodriguez ushered us toward the warehouse. I noted it was well guarded, as were the doorways and walkways. Rodriguez wasn’t a total idiot.

“Decent security,” I prompted. “Well done,” I added just for a little extra flattery.

He lit up like I licked his butt hole. “I’ve made sure to protect our investment. You can see I have guards there and there,” he pointed to the ones I could see. “But,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “I also have some over there and there.” Then he proceeded to show me all the locations of the guards.

“Very wise,” I nodded. “You’re a step ahead.” Luka was barely holding it together behind me. Granted, we didn’t intend to take down the entire establishment, but you never wanted to be unprepared. This asshole was giving away everything for free, what an idiot. He might as well bend over and let me fuck him at this rate.

“Shall we?” He gestured us forward into the warehouse.

The door creaked open as I stepped inside. Colombia’s oppressive heat and humidity were replaced by the stale, dusty air of the dimly lit space, but at least it was cooler. My eyes adjusted to the gloom, scanning the high, grimy windows and the metal beams overhead. A group of women huddled together on the floor in a caged area, their expressions a mix of fear and exhaustion. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but the sight was still a jarring reminder of the brutality of the world I operated in. Luka’s intake of breath was enough for me to know I wasn’t the only one affected. This made me sick.

Rodriguez walked beside me, his presence as annoying as ever. He moved with the confidence of a man who believed he controlled everything around him, including these women’s lives. I supposed he wasn’t wrong. As we approached the center of the warehouse, I scanned for other men, but I could only see guards, no Makarovich. Shit. What a waste of time.

“Dimitri, this is our most recent shipment of merchandise. They’ve all been inspected and tested.” My stomach turned. What a disgusting pig. “We did have a sale this morning,” he hesitated. “I’m willing to share those profits, of course, since we made an arrangement last night.”

I swung my eyes to him. He made a sale this morning? Well, that was interesting. I knew it wasn’t him making the sale since I had eyes on him the whole time, so could it have been Makarovich? Maddox’s intel said Makarovich was deep with Rodriguez … my hopes suddenly soared. This fucker wouldn’t be trusting ‘sales’ with anyone that wasn’t high up on the pay scale.

“Let’s see the goods. Open it up.” Keeping my face blank as the chain link gate was unlatched, I scanned over the women as Rodriguez practically bounced beside me like some goddamn puppy dog.

Well, this wasn’t my plan at all, I thought as I eyed the group of bruised women. They looked like they’d all been put through some level of hell. Almost all of them kept their heads down, trying not to get selected for whatever next level this was. The situation reminded me sharply of Helena, who had been beaten within an inch of her life by Makarovich’s man Sergei, her ribs broken. She would have been raped if we hadn’t acted quickly, ended up here a victim of trafficking.

“What do you think?” Rodriguez chirped happily, obviously expecting praise.

---