Her Russian Millionaire

Chapter 10

His coffee was getting cold. Erik pushed it away and checked his phone one more time. No new calls. No new messages. Nothing. He gestured for the waitress to bring him another coffee before stepping outside to make a call.

“Front desk? How may I help you?” a woman’s voice answered. He had the front desk of the hotel on speed dial.

“I need to see if my girlfriend has checked into our room yet.” He tried not to sound worried.

 “Of course. What name is the reservation under?” Soft typing echoed through the line.

“Erik Petrov. E-r-i-k P-e-t-r-o-v.” As an immigrant, he had gotten used to having to spell out his name.

“She hasn’t checked in, yet.” The woman paused. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Petrov?”

“No, thank you.” Erik hung up and went back into the diner. His coffee sat at his table, and he poured cream and sugar in it before taking a sip. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he knew he couldn’t just sit here and drink coffee. There was no way she would take three hours to pack.

Ten minutes later, he had a plan. Erik zipped back home, breaking the speed limit many times. The sun hung lazily in the sky, ushering in twilight.  A light rain pattered down from the heavens. There was no telling where Jalisa was, who was with her, and what was happening. All he knew was that Jalisa would not skip out on him, no matter what.

The guard disguised as an old man nodded at him when he zipped in. Jogging up the steps, he paused and looked over at him. It was a long shot that the man had seen anything, but his post did give him a good view of the road, and it was probably better if Erik covered all his bases.

“Did Jalisa come by here?” Erik asked.

“The black girl?” The man said before he remembered he was speaking to his boss. “No, sir. Ms. Jalisa did not come by here. Even if she did, I wouldn’t have let her past. No one gets by me and my Beretta. No, sir.”

“I don’t have time to dissect everything that is wrong with what you just said. I’ll leave it at this: if you ever shoot or threaten Jalisa in any way, I will flay your flesh off of your body in the worst way possible.” Erik tilted his head down and spoke with a heavy Russian accent. “Now, I will ask you one more question: Jalisa or no, have you seen anything unusual going on?”

“No, sir.” He lowered his head. Erik brushed past him, no longer having a use for this conversation.

He stomped around, yelling in Russian at his men to rally. With his anxiety building, he descended to the basement. He hadn’t been the demon he was in the mafia in a long time. Erik pushed that part of himself down, but as he reached the bottom step, he felt that part of him rise up and cloak him like a shroud.

The basement was the center of their operations. Walls lined with guns glinted in the light. Storage crates identical to the ones in The Semya clustered in the middle. Men crowded around them with crowbars, loudly prying up their tops to reveal their contents. Bulletproof vest, brand new. It had been a long time since he himself was in the middle of the action, but only he could do this.

“I want six good men ready to go in ten minutes.” He shrugged out of his suit jacket and strapped on a vest. The familiar weight brought him back and he smiled devilishly.

Six of his best men fell in line at the door. They stood with their feet apart, weapons down at their sides, and their eyes facing forward. Erik felt like a military commander as he walked up and down their ranks. Three from Russia. Three from the US. All trained by the mafia and ready to attack at a moment’s notice.

“Men,” Erik barked. “I do not know what has happened. The only information I have is that the love of my life has not checked into our hotel.

“Now, I know that in and of itself does not mean that something bad has happened or require such an…intense response. There could be a computer error, a typo, the cab could have broken down, she could be checking in right now as I speak…I know that, but something inside of me tells me that she is in danger.

“We’ll be dealing with Stone, and as most of you know, he is a formidable enemy. He seems to have zero sense of self-preservation. Stone will throw himself at you through a hail of bullets. He doesn’t care. If he doesn’t care about himself, you can imagine how little he cares about you.

“There are many times we have physically fought where the only thing keeping me alive is Stone having fun. He likes to fight; it’s a game to him. He has many opportunities to shoot me, but he prefers to stab. Stone is the kind to play with his food.”

“Will it just be Stone or will he have backup?” One of the men raised his hand politely.

“He will most likely have friends with him. If you see a woman in a bright colored dress, don’t kill her. Even if she shoots at you, don’t kill her. Find a way to subdue her peacefully. I’m assigning you two,” Erik pointed at two of the Americans, “to find this woman and, oh, I don’t know, tie her up to something. Keep her peaceful until after the fight. Stone has been abusing her for years and years. She’ll most likely feel some sort of twisted sense of loyalty to him.”

“Yes, sir,” the two said in perfect time.

“The other four of you will have other jobs. Two of you,” he pointed at the last American and a Russian, “will search for Nikita and protect her. She is about five foot, ninety to one hundred pounds. 14 years old. Black. Little colorful streak in her hair. Looks like Jalisa because she is her little sister. The other two will be with me. We’re going in the front.

“I want you all to blend in. We look like normal people, okay? Cover up your vests with jackets. Don’t wear your weapon in plain sight.”

“Yes, sir,” they all called down the line.

“You have three more minutes to locate your jackets, hide your weapons, and pile in the car.” Erik watched them all scurry away before slipping on a lumpy, unattractive jacket. He got into the car with a heavy sigh. In total, there were eight of them. Six men with him, a medic, and Erik himself.

The air in the car was thick. No one spoke and no one dared to suggest they turn on the radio. Erik drove one car, with an identical one, driven by the medic, following behind him. Each move Erik made, the medic copied. Soon enough, they were pulling into the potholed parking lot of The Semya.