Page 190 of Brooklyn Cupid

I hope I’m not making a mistake when I follow them to the stairs that lead down to the marina pier.

“???! ????, ?????3” a gorgeous girl in a mini dress shouts at him from the terrace doors.

Dzima turns around toward her without stopping. “???, ?? ????????! ???????? ??????? ????!4” he yells as he motions toward the bay.

“What kind of boat do you have?” I ask, my heart fluttering with hope as we pass all sorts of watercraft docked at the pier. “A sailboat won’t cut it. It’s too slow. The guy just took off in a speed boat.”

Alex glares at me. “Don’t insult me. You pay for gas, by the way.”

He halts by a fancy yellow speed boat. “Dzima, get the cognac! Misha, ropes!” Then he turns to me. “Hop in. You need legal backup?”

I stall. “What does that mean?”

“The college across the bay”—he nods in that direction—“has their own water patrol. I know a guy.”

“Not yet.”

“Dzima,” Alex barks, turning on the engine, my nerves humming in sync with its loud rumbling. “Fucking cognac! Let’s roll!”

These guys treat this like a party because Dzima comes out of the cabin with a bottle and aluminum shots in his hands.

Misha unties the docking lines. “Got it!” he shouts, hopping into the boat.

“Watch the beams,” Alex commands and starts veering the boat away from the dock while Dzima pours the shots and balances as the boat backs left, then slowly straightens out.

Alex throws back a shot, a proud smile on his lips. “Okay!????????5”

We veer past the moored boats toward the opening out of Sheepshead Bay, and I ask for their phone so I can call Roey again.

Misha offers me a shot, but I decline. “You guys really do drink a lot, huh?”

Dzima shrugs. “Man, we drink, do crazy shit, and embrace it. You Americans drink, cry about it, and go to AA meetings.”

“Now hold on!” Alex interrupts him and revs up the motor. “Saturday. Let’s rrrrrrride!” he roars with an accent that’s sharper than the motor sound.

These are crazy people, I realize, and I just put my life into their hands.

1 “??????, ???, ?? ?????” — (Russian)“Hey, dude, you all right?”

2 “??!” — (Russian)“Hey!”

3 “???! ????, ?????” — (Russian)“Dzim! Where the hell you going?”

4 “???, ?? ????????! ???????? ??????? ????!” — (Russian)“Len, we’ll be right back. Gonna go save a person.”

5 “????????” — (Russian)“Let’s roll?”

67

JACE

I dial Roey.

“Jace, Reznik is heading toward the Lower Bay,” Roey says right away. “I’m driving. Miller’s next to me. We are heading east, toward Rockaway. Miller has a drone following Reznik’s boat, but we’re not sure where he’s going. The Brexton Recovery assholes are on the move, too, determined to help out.Help out, my fucking ass. They are heading west, toward Staten Island, in case that’s where Reznik is going. Gordon is on the way to a helipad.”

“Helipad? In Brooklyn?”

“It’s the local high school’s athletic field. He got NYPD clearance. Asshole has connections everywhere.”

---