Page 173 of Bossy Hero

Once again, my gut has proven to be untrustworthy. A dozen times or more, I’ve met with this man. Had drinks or dinner with him while we plotted out the partnership between CPD and Redleg. Looked him in the eye.

And yet, not so much as a single warning bell. If anything, it was the opposite. I’ve always felt a deep sense of morality in him. A similar desire for justice as me.

How did I read him so wrong?

Detective Patterson, a.k.a. Sergeant Sabotage, leans back in his chair and crosses his leg nonchalantly over his knee. “Chief, I’m beginning to think we got our wires crossed here.”

“Ya think, asshole?” Bigsby snaps at him, finally dropping the nonplussed act. He rises, matching my height. “Lancaster, sit down.”

Standing toe to toe with him, I take another look under the surface, probing deeper.

Again, I don’t see the inherent evil that would be required of someone working with Lenkov. It’s simply not fucking there.

He drops my stare at the sound of tires popping and crunching over the terrain.

“It’s about damn time.” He slithers his sight to Patterson. “They’re here.”

“Who’s here?” I ask, arms stiffened at my sides.

“A mutual friend,” he says through a sneer as he casually lowers to his seat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I scan the room again, mentally cataloging the locations of all the things I’ll use to fight my way free. Because if that’s Lenkov, he won’t be here alone.

I’ll use the folding chair first, then grab the heavy paint can and swing it right into the face of whoever gets up soonest.

Bigsby flicks his wrist at me, motioning for me to take my seat. “For fuck’s sake, sit down.”

Car doors slam, one after the other. Four of them in total.

Time’s up.

I shift my weight to the balls of my feet and wrap my right hand around the edge of my folding chair.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Patterson warns, his hand hovering over his firearm.

A contingent of bulky men enters the shed, handguns visible on most of them.

I’m grossly outnumbered and utterly fucked.

Like Moses parting the sea, they move to the side in unison, allowing a well-dressed man to come into view. Familiar eyes lock on mine.

In a thick Russian accent, he says, “At last we meet.”

Chapter30

Dancing with the Devil

Big Al

Thiscannotbe happening.

Instead of fighting my way out of here, I’m cautiously standing with the most unlikely duo.

And Patterson.

Bigsby stands between me and the Russian, acting like he’s making introductions at the fucking country club. “Lancaster, I’d like you to officially meet my brother-in-law, Yuri Zaytsev. Or, as you may have figured out by now, Theseus.”

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