Mr. Markow had promised his little twenty-one-year-old princess to me. The joining of our families was paramount to keeping control of the city. With the meeting of the Bosses, better known as The Commission, coming up, and the threat of another Russian family vying for control, Liliya’s disappearance couldn’t have happened at a worse time.
Our marriage would unify two strong families, the combining of the territories forming the largest amongst the five families, making the Markow-Duskin family the strongest mafia family in decades. Malcolm had been against this move, arguing that it would attract too much attention from the police and other agencies, as well as the three other families. He’d feared that a war would come.
I’d always thought Malcolm was a *. And I was right. He had cried like a little bitch as his father beat the shit out of him in the garden, crying and begging even though he knew his words wouldn’t save him. He was beyond saving. He could have had everything he wanted, if only he would have found his balls and acted like a real man for once in his life. Now, with Malcolm gone, I was Markow’s right hand. Together we would make history.
When his father had ordered me to kill his son, I hadn’t hesitated. No. I had done what was asked of me. I followed orders. I listened to him beg for his life and swallowed his fear as the light in his eyes disappeared into oblivion. What I hadn’t expected that night was his sister – my bride – to see me do it. She had seen everything, and it had turned what should have been cut and dried – a mere formality, really – into a fucking nightmare.
Shaking off the memory, I turned to my men, running my fingers through my obsidian hair. “The boss is pissed. Someone saw Liliya leave the city. She doesn’t have resources at her disposal. Expand the search. Her car is gone, so start there. Check rental car companies, bus stations, airports… hack the fucking department of motor vehicles if you have to. Call in every favor you have and find my girl. She is NOT to be harmed. Punishment is up to her father. We don’t return home until we find her. Get to work!” A chorus of yes sirs rained down on me and I felt ten feet tall. I loved commanding the men, the taste of authority on my tongue. I yearned for it like oxygen… or a warm wet *.
Johan approached the back door of the car, opening it for me. As I moved to slip inside, he spoke. “I’ve got a guy that can track Liliya’s car. He’s good and fast.”
“Call him now.”
“Yes, sir,” Johan responded as he shut the door.
Two hours later, Johan and I pulled into the parking lot of a ‘buy here, pay here’ car dealership called Big Mo’s. I scoured the lot, filled with dozens of rusty pieces of shit, for several minutes before finding the little red Mercedes. The front end of Liliya’s car was just visible from behind the office.
Wasting no time, we strode towards the entrance to the dingy portable building. The sound coming from the television masked our entrance. The heavy-set man behind the desk was busy watching television on an old black-and-white set the size of a microwave dinner. He had a beer in one hand and piece of greasy fried chicken in the other, the man’s stained wife-beater shirt barely covering his beer gut. I approached the desk giving it a solid tap with my fist, startling the old man. The old guy looked as if he might shit his pants. It’s funny how just the mere sight of men like Johan and me can incite fear in someone. Have to give the old guy credit, though. He recovered quickly, always on the lookout for a fast buck.
“What the… how can I help you gentlemen?” He wiped his mouth on the back of his grease-covered hand, crispy flakes of crust from his dinner flittering to the floor with each movement he made. The chair snapped forward as he shifted his weight to sit up, his hefty beer gut rubbing against the edge of the desk. A real fucking winner, right here before us. Just the thought of my sweet little Liliya dealing with this scum turned my stomach.
“We’re here about the Mercedes you have parked outside,” I growled. “It belongs to my woman. How long have you had it?”
“Sweet little piece, isn’t she? I’ve had her about two days now, or there about. She’s fancy. Has all the bells and whistles, she does.”
“I think you misunderstood. We’re not interested in buying the car. We’re looking for the woman who gave it to you.” I gave Johan a nod and he made his way around the desk. When he jerked the man up from his chair by the nape of his neck, the yelp from the old man made my heart race. “You see, old man, my woman ran off. I need to find her. My friend here wants to find her, too. I ask the questions and you give me answers or my friend here will dish out pain like you’ve never felt before. Are we clear?”
Silence.
Johan gave the man’s neck a good squeeze.
“Fuck yes!” the car dealer whine. “We’re clear.”
“Good. What kind of car did she get in exchange for the Mercedes out back?”
“She picked out an old Ford Taurus. Beat-up old thing but that’s what she wanted. I swear.”
“Did she say where she was headed?” I asked through gritted teeth. The idea of Liliya driving around in some old beat-up piece of shit pissed me off.