Page 26 of Psychological War

Shaking my head, I tried my best to ignore the pounding headache coursing its way down to my neck.

“Montón de jodidos idiotas que no vuelven a subir,” one of them said from behind me. I was mentally kicking myself for not learning other languages. None of us knew anything besides English and Russian. Dimitri was more fluent in Russian since he was born there, while Killian and I were from America. But apparently not knowing anything else was going to be an issue.

“Ah si jodidamente estúpido.” That didn’t need much translation. We were stupid. I couldn’t exactly be mad at them for calling us stupid. I could assume they were talking about us not bringing any back up or being more prepared for this.

Yes, we were fucking stupid.

Killian kept his gaze down on the floor while Dimitri glared at the men who were behind me. I had no idea how many, but I could only assume it was decent. The sound of the door slamming shut made me glance over to the left to see who was walking through.

I couldn’t recognize him, but with short black greasy hair, he had a dark mustache that did not fit him well at all. He looked like a damn creep.

I kept his gaze as he slowly made his way over to us, a cigar hanging from his lips.

“Golpea al grande,” he demanded. I didn’t have time to think about what he said when I felt a solid punch land on my temple. A normal person might have been knocked out, but I’d been hit so many times it didn’t make a difference.

I didn’t make a sound. I didn’t move.

Sitting back up I faced Dimitri, giving him a reassuring nod. It was alright. I could handle whatever they gave me.

“Otra vez.”

Another blow, this time to my side.

“Otra vez.”

They repeated it over and over again. I could taste the bruises forming on my back and sides.

“Suficiente.” He laughed. The blows stopped, and I felt whoever was throwing them back away from me. “I think it’s time to introduce myself.” The greasy dude smiled, his teeth stained yellow. “I’m Carlos Herrera, the new Matteo if you will.” His accent was thick and almost hard to understand.

I ignored the fucker when he said Matteo. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he was holding a gun to Dimitri Volkov. Or if he knew he was stupid.

Very stupid.

“Now I think it’s time you introduce yourselves and why you’re in my warehouse.”

I couldn’t help the chuckle slipping again. I was becoming a real shit about controlling my emotions when someone said something stupid. If this Carlos character really thought this was his warehouse, then he would get a reality check soon. Dimitri owned six warehouses just here in Boston. Two of them were for weapons, two were just empty, and one I kept as mine since I couldn’t always bring people back to the house since that’s where Mila and Tobias lived. I didn’t need Mila kicking my ass if he somehow got through the lock and went downstairs. And the last was for his drug imports.

I knew he had a problem with someone getting hold of the drugs, but I had no idea it would be this fucker trying to be like Matteo, who was dead, and I was really tired of him still being active in our lives. He died four years ago; he just needed to stay fucking dead.

“Estúpido,” Carlos snapped. “Who are y—” He was cut off from a large explosion outside.

Shouting quickly followed with rapid amounts of guns being shot off. Dimitri glanced at me, his eyebrow raised, like he was asking, “Who the fuck could that be?” We never tell people where we go. If he didn’t bring backup, no one knew. So this attack had to be on Carlos and his men, which meant we had to get out of there sooner rather than later.

Carlos began shouting orders, leaving only a few men guarding us. If I played my part well, I could take at least a few of them out. Dimitri would be right behind me. Killian, I had no idea what he would do since he hated this part of our world, but I’m sure if push came to shove, he would.

Swinging my body around I grabbed hold of the guy's leg that was right behind me. Slamming his body down, I heard a commotion behind me. I was hoping it was Dimitri, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the other two drawing their guns to aim them at me. Speedily I reached for the guns of the one I took down. Aiming, I shot them both before they could shoot at me. While I was busy taking out the two that were in front of me now, I hadn’t paid attention to Carlos.

He kicked my hand, the gun dropping. He grabbed me around the throat. For a small man he had a tight grip. “Basta de esta mierda!” he roared, turning us around. I took in Dimitri who had killed three men, while Killian stood over one with a knife aimed at his throat.

“Lo dejó ir—” Carlos was cut off. The door slammed open.

Two men backed into the warehouse, their guns drawn, aiming for whatever was heading their way.

In a split moment two daggers went flying impaling the two men in the neck who were backing up. They fell back from the force.

It was one of those slow move films, where you can see but your actions were slowed or even stopped.

I was stopped. I’m sure I even stopped breathing.

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