Page 121 of The Fire We Crave

Butcher picks the lock and gets us into the house, and we search for the alarm box. Atom finds it in a coat closet, and Zimmer gets to work, but no sooner does he open the panel and connect a gadget he uses to roll through alarm codes than we hear the first bullet outside.

“Fuck the alarm,” Butcher says. “They already know we’re here. Let’s find them.”

We split, me with Atom, Butcher with Zimmer. Our path takes us into a fancy-as-fuck living space the size of the club bar. Lush sofas. Big windows, a fuck ton of crystal everywhere, from the chandeliers to the shit on tables, but no signs of any people.

A peppering of bullets and gunshots shatter the quiet. Given our weapons all have silencers and suppressors, it means Lev’s men are well and truly awake. The silence we experienced only moments before is now shattered.

I hear Taco yell in pain just outside the window.

“We need to move faster,” Atom says. He goes ahead of me, and I lose sight of Butcher and Zimmer as they head off to the room on the other side of the hall.

The living room is separated from a study by glass doors. Atom pushes one open, and I find a laptop sitting on the desk. I make a note to come back and grab it, if the situation allows it. Who knows what kind of intel could be on it? Names, dates, places.

Plus, banking information. I wonder if I got the laptop to Vex in New Jersey, maybe he could do something with it.

Next to it sits a solid glass or crystal ashtray. There are the remains of a cigar in it. Mostly ash with a stubby end. I put my hand over it. It’s cold. With everything else so perfect, it looks a little out of place.

Atom peers around the door from the study into the hallway, then raises his hand to tell me we need to go right.

And I’m about to follow when I feel the unmistakable cold of a gun barrel being pressed to my skull.

“You’ll do,” the voice says.

37

SMOKE

Iraise my hands slowly, scanning the room until I can see the reflection of the two people I’m dealing with in the glass of a display case door. It’s impossible to see who they are, but the physical outline suggests one of them is bigger than me.

One thing I know for sure is something my mom always used to say when I was a scrawny kid who hadn’t grown into his size-thirteen feet.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

And it’s my experience that the bigger they are, the less of a fighter they are. They lack nimbleness and dexterity. Sure, if you find yourself on the receiving end of their fist, they can likely knock you out cold.

But if they miss…

He removes my Glock from my hand as I look at the second reflection in the room.

The person next to them is more slight, and when he walks past me and turns around so I can see him properly, I immediately recognize him.

Lev Zakharov.

He puts his finger to his lips, telling me to not say a word. His arm is in the sling, strapped tight to his chest. It looks like he’s unarmed.

I take stock.

One weapon, currently pressed to my skull.

Two men. The giant and the injured. Both will be lacking in dexterity.

All I have to do is get the gun out of big guy’s hand and we’ll have a fair fight.

I ignore the finger pressed to the lips because I’m not a child. “You’re not getting out of here alive.”

Lev grins. “You’re my insurance. I’ll walk out of here with you. Your brothers aren’t going to kill me if they think it’ll lead to your death.”

I move slightly, edging ever closer to the desk.

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