Page 18 of Stolen By the Bratva King

Inside, one of my guys, Oleg, is sitting on a folding chair smoking a cigarette in the center of the room. His leg bounces up and down. He scrubs a hand over his buzzed hair like he’s trying to rub away the stress. When he sees me, he stands up and nods his head in my direction.

His eyes dart behind me as if he’s expecting to be ambushed. The hair on the back of my neck rises with my suspicions.

He shifts his weight and takes a long drag of the cigarette before blowing the smoke out through the corner of his mouth.

“You wanted to see me about a new money deal, boss?” he asks in Russian.

“Something like that.” I arranged this meeting on the pretense that I would be discussing a new deal with Oleg, but my real goal is to confront him about what he’s doing without my permission.

His eyes brighten slightly as if he’s eager to hear about it. “What is it? A new client? A new shipment to take care of?”

There have been rumors floating around that Oleg is involved in gun trafficking. I don’t normally believe in taking action against rumors. I need true evidence. And I’m determined to get it today.

I take a step closer. I watch Oleg’s throat bob. His eyes dart behind me again. He’s fidgeting now, stepping from one foot to the other like he’s restless. His face pales when I glare at him.

“What are you looking at?” I ask in Russian.

“What do you mean?”

“You keep looking behind me,” I say.

“What’s going on, boss?” he asks.

“Why don’t you tell me?” I throw the question back at him. “Can I trust you?”

His face collapses. “Of course you can, boss. You know that.”

“You would never do anything behind my back, would you?” I continue glowering at him.

“Why would you think that?” His face is gray in the dim lighting that’s filtering in through the slits in the blinds.

“Why do you seem nervous?” I ask. “I can’t have my captains running around with side hustle behind my back. Especially when it comes to guns.”

He shrugs, trying to act nonchalantly but I see the fear sprinting through his eyes. When I start marching toward him, he stumbles backward, knocking the chair over. He tosses the cigarette on the concrete floor and smashes it with his heel.

“What’s going on, boss? Is this a set up?” His voice shakes. “Are you going to take me out or something?”

I smirk. “Take you out?”

He shakes his head, pressing his palms to his temples. “Everything is just so messed up right now.”

“What do mean?”

“Are you going to kill me?” he asks, swallowing hard. Guilt is laced in his words.

“That depends on whether you’re betraying me,” I growl, grabbing his shirt. I push him into the corner and slam his back into the wall, breathing hard and fast, teeth gritting so hard that they creak.

“You’re making me lose my patience, Oleg. I don’t like to lose my patience, and you aren’t going to like it either.”

Oleg stares at me, stunned, but he can’t manage to erase the guilt marking his features.

“Are you running a side business without my permission?” I bark out. “Tell me the truth. Now.”

Oleg licks his lips, stammers out a “what?”

“You heard me,” I hiss, pushing him further against the wall. His shoulders scrape against it, the bones grinding against the hard surface.

“Why would you think that?” he asks, but it’s clear that he’s just trying to buy himself time.

---