Page 51 of Den of Thieves

“I let her go.”

“But you loved her.”

“Aye. I’m afraid I always will. So, despite her stealing from me, I have no choice but to let her go, and hope someday she will return.”

Vladimir had many questions. Who was this woman? Where is she? She is obviously an enemy to steal from the Bratva. Instead, he asked, “What did she steal?”

Kristoff laughed humorlessly. “What is there to steal to hurt a man of my means? My heart, of course.”

Vladimir’s frown deepened. He had more questions, but their conversation would have to wait until later. It was time to focus.

They were headed towards the Tretyakov Gallery area, an up-and-coming area of Moscow. There were flashes of money everywhere, but there was still evidence of the lower middle-class workers that called it home.

Vladimir remembered Karina’s comments when the two of them toured an old bank in the area as a potential location for a new nightclub.

What did she call it? Oh yes, gentrification.

Nikolai turned around from the passenger seat and showed him a bird’s eye view of an old strip mall on his tablet. “On paper, it says this property was bought two years ago. But there’s been no activity inside since.” Nikolai touched the screen, zooming out to show that we were still twenty minutes out.

“Then why are we headed there?” Vladimir asked.

He wanted to shout at Nikolai to get to the point already. But he refrained. He knew he was too wired up from seeing his wife earlier and needed an outlet—preferably someone’s face—for his mounting aggressions.

“Cars park here in the evenings. The shelter Alvin was last seen at is across the street.”

So that’s where these traitors have been meeting. He couldn’t wait to see the pakhans who jumped ship grovel as he took their last breath. He would enjoy their deaths most of all.

A part of him wanted to blow it all up, just to be done with it all. A slow smile split his face just thinking about it.

“No.” Nikolai said, fervently shaking his head.

“What? You don’t even know what I’m going to say.” Vladimir resisted the urge to cross his arms.

“We are not blowing up the building.”

“Not even if I brought my own rocket launcher?” he smiled. Vladimir preferred those to the old ways of acquiring and wiring C4 to crush his enemies.

Dimitri pinched the bridge of his nose in the seat next to him. “Where did you get a rocket launcher? I thought you were blacklisted after what happened at Black Dolphin?” he asked, referring to the maximum security prison he and Vladimir spent six months in before they escaped.

Daniil leaned forward. “What happened at Black Dolphin?”

“He broke out of prison and shot a rocket launcher at twenty policemen when they attempted a roadblock.” Kristoff said, not looking up from his phone.

Daniil’s mouth dropped, and Dean spoke up. “Why didn’t we know about this?”

“I had it handled.” Vladimir shrugged. “I still don’t see why it was a big deal. No one died.”

“Numerous people lost limbs! That stunt cost you two million dollars in damages—”

“Pocket change.” Vladimir waved a hand in the air. He didn’t appreciate being called out like this.

“And got you blacklisted from every major arms dealer, above board and underground for the foreseeable future after you reimbursed me. Everyone thought they were next if they got on your bad side,” Nikolai said, exasperated.

“The day is young…” Vladimir hummed.

“…so how did you get a rocket launcher?” Kristoff asked, finally putting his phone down. He eyed the thick black case in front of them as if seeing it for the first time.

Vladimir smiled, leaning back in his seat. “I have the best cousin ever.”

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