Page 30 of The Debt

“Remember, he’s an end to a means. I don’t need a corpse,” Jarek said.

Lucky nodded, but disappointment flickered across his face. “Whatever you say, Boss. But just so you know, when I found him at that bar, he was running his mouth off about Miss Polov.”

Jarek’s expression hardened. He had spent the last month wooing Tatiana. He knew he had achieved what he had set out to do. She had fallen in love with him, which she had confirmed last night in a whispered declaration when she thought he was asleep. Everything was falling into place… except for one aspect. Gregor Polov was still adamant that she had to marry Petrov. Jarek was removing that hindrance tonight.

“Was he now?” He snickered at the prospect of meeting the man Polov deemed good enough for his granddaughter. “I guess it’s high time someone changes his confidence about a blissful future with Miss Polov.”

The door creaked as Jarek pushed it open and stepped into the shack. The air reeked of fear and rotten wood. A single bulb swung overhead, casting uneven light across splintered walls.

Barto Petrov slumped in a metal chair. Zip ties binding his wrists and ankles rendered him helpless. Blood trickled from his nose, and his left eye was swollen shut. His expensive suit—now wrinkled and stained—marked him as a man of means and power in the city or, to be more specific, of the rotten underworld of Atlanta.

Barto Petrov’s lean frame turned rigid with defiance when he noticed Jarek entering. Despite his bloodied face and restraints, power radiated from him.

“Who the fuck are you?” Petrov’s voice echoed with the confidence of a man used to being obeyed. “Do you know who I am?”

“A drug lord who hides behind legitimate business.” Jarek circled him slowly, his prosthetic mask and aged appearance concealing his true identity. “Although I have to admit, you’re a much older fart face than I envisioned. One who apparently has the power to force Polov to marry off his granddaughter for your benefit.”

Petrov’s jaw clenched. “You know fuckall.”

“To the contrary, I know everything.” Jarek stopped behind him. “Including how you plan to use TAP United Logistics for your drug distribution.”

“You’re making dangerous accusations.” Petrov twisted in his chair, trying to track Jarek’s movement. “Gregor will—”

“Gregor Polov doesn’t concern me.” Jarek completed his circle, facing Petrov. “But you should be concerned about me.”

“And who the fuck exactly are you?”

“They call me The Dark One.”

The color drained from Petrov’s face, and his cocky demeanor cracked. “That’s impossible. The Dark One operates in Boston.”

“My reach extends wherever necessary.” Jarek leaned closer. “Now tell me, what hold do you have over Polov that he would sacrifice his granddaughter to you?”

Petrov's throat worked. The Somerville Irish Gang’s reputation for enforcing criminal codes was legendary. “We have history.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Some debts can’t be measured in money.” Petrov licked his lips. “Some secrets can’t be buried deep enough.”

Jarek’s silence stretched, and the air turned heavy with the quiet threat it represented.

“Gregor helped me escape the Soviet Union,” Petrov finally broke. “But not before I helped him eliminate certain... obstacles. Including his own brother five years ago.”

“Family loyalty clearly means nothing to either of you.” Jarek’s voice carried winter’s chill. “Which makes your marital aspirations with Ms. Polov particularly offensive.”

Petrov’s jaw flexed. “Fuck off, Dark One. This has nothing to do with you. Besides, Polov already promised her hand to me.”

“Strange. I wouldn’t think it was his hand to promise.” He shrugged. “Word isshehasn’t offered her hand to anyone.” Jarek’s aged prosthetic mask creased as he smiled. “You least of all.”

“She will abide by her grandfather’s will.” Sweat beaded on Petrov’s balding head.

“She won’t be forced to abide by anyone.” Jarek’s voice dropped lower. “You’re going to ensure that.”

“Stop talking in riddles.” Petrov yanked against the zip ties but stopped as the plastic cut into his wrists. “And fucking untie me!”

The sharp snick of Lucky’s switchblade cut through the air. Petrov’s head snapped toward the sound. His pupils dilated as he noticed the length of the blade. His breathing quickened when Lucky moved behind him.

“Let me spell it out.” Jarek remained motionless as Lucky circled to Petrov’s right side. “You will withdraw your demand to marry Polov’s granddaughter.”

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