Page 55 of The Payment

“¿Qué hora es?”Martinez barked at his bodyguard, checking his diamond-encrusted watch.

“Three minutes to noon,señor.”

“Polov better not keep me waiting,” Martinez growled, pacing the concrete floor.“I didn’t fly from Mexico City to breathe in the filthy air of this dump.”

From their vantage point, Jarek’s hand instinctively curled around his weapon.Every cell in his body screamed for action, for release, for vengeance.The faces of his murdered wife and daughter flashed through his mind.Finally, he would be able to close that chapter.

“Don’t you think we’re taking a risk being here, Jarek?”Nevil whispered as he scanned the dark corners of the warehouse.“Instinct warns me bullets are gonna fly, and I urge you not to forget the FBI will be swarming this place.”

“The FBI won’t be a problem.The leading agent is a friend of mine.He has no idea of my position in the criminal world.”Jarek’s voice carried an unfamiliar calm, his usual tension replaced by deadly focus.

“Still, Boss,” Declan interjected.“Won’t he find it strange if they happened on us and found us here?”

“Should that be the case, I’ll handle it.”Jarek’s eyes never left Martinez below.“I’m here because I’ll be damned if I’m not present to personally witness Gregor Polov’s final downfall.I thought since you walked the journey with me, you’d want it, too, but I just realized my investment in this is more personal.Yours have been through loyalty and friendship.You don’t need to be here.If you want to leave and wait for me in the truck, I’ll understand.”

“You’re wrong, Jarek.”Nevil gripped his shoulder.“We’re just as invested in seeing this through, but other than you, we grew up in this world and are naturally more cautious.We’re staying.”He squeezed harder.“Besides, someone has to be here to hold you back should things go south, and you have the hair-brained notion to interfere.”

“What he said,” Declan agreed, nodding toward Nevil.“We’re staying.”

The crunch of tires on broken concrete echoed through the warehouse as three black Mercedes rolled in, their tinted windows reflecting the dim light.Jarek’s muscles coiled tight as Gregor Polov emerged from the middle vehicle with his silver hair catching the dusty rays from above.Ten men flanked him on each side, their faces hard and their hands hovering near their weapons.

Martinez straightened his jacket.His easy smile betrayed none of the tension radiating from his men.

“Polov!Finally, gracing us with your presence.”

“Traffic in Atlanta is hell, my friend.”Polov’s accent cut through the stale air.He approached Martinez with open arms but stopped short of an embrace.Both men kept a calculated distance.

From his position above, Jarek watched the man who had destroyed his life perform his practiced charm.His trigger finger itched.One shot.That was all it would take.But revenge demanded more than a quick death.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries,” Martinez said, his smile fading.“Your recent moves in Miami have our associates concerned.”

Polov spread his hands.“Business is business.The market changes.We adapt.”

“You adapted right into our territory.”Martinez’s gold rings flashed as he gestured.“That’s not how alliances work.”

“Alliances?”Polov’s laugh echoed off the walls.“Tell me, how many of my shipments have your men hijacked this month?”

The air crackled with tension.Both groups of guards shifted their stances as their hands disappeared under their jackets.

“Careful, Polov.”Martinez’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.“You’re a long way from Brighton Beach.”

The warehouse air grew thicker as Martinez’s words hung between them.

“And you’re far from Sinaloa.”Polov stepped closer with his eyes gleaming in the shadows.“Cut the bullshit, Martinez.Why the fuck am I here?”

Above, Declan gripped Jarek's arm.“Easy, boss.Watch it unfold.”

Jarek steadied his breathing, but each word from Polov’s mouth ripped open old wounds.Twenty years of waiting, planning, and remembering that his single bullet shattered his world.

“Mira, Polov.You’re a smartcabrón.I respect that in my business associates.”Martinez drew on his cigar, the ember briefly illuminating his face.

“Business associates?”Polov’s lip curled.“¿Dónde está El Jefe?I was meant to meet with him.”His voice dripped with disdain at dealing with someone beneath his rank.

“El Jefe...let’s say he’s not part of this particular negotiation.”

“Going behind your boss's back?”Polov’s body tensed, eyes scanning the shadows.

Up on the mezzanine, Jarek muttered a curse.“The bastard’s going to derail this if he’s not careful.”

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