“Lucky Alex.”
“His family has been loyal to ours,” Maxim answered. “Let me know the outcome of the raid.”
“Understood,” Lev said, understanding he was being dismissed.
Two hours later, Maxim left his new office. The moment he got behind the wheel of his black Jaguar, he felt phantom eyes on him.
Maxim looked out the car windows and glimpsed pedestrians on the sidewalk, mostly office workers on their way home. He started the engine and headed home.
Ten minutes later, Maxim glanced at his rearview mirror and noticed the same beat-up dark blue Pinto following him at a discreet distance.
Maxim swerved right, taking a different way home. The driver of the Pinto mimicked him. The darkened glass made it hard to make out the features of the man behind the wheel.
Probably a hired hitman the Federovs hired. Perhaps Maxim had been the real target at the wedding after all?
Normally, Maxim allowed one or two bodyguards to tail him wherever he went, but Lev had gone home early. His brother never had a chance to enforce that rule today. Maxim also wanted some time to himself.
Only a fool asking for a death sentence would try to put out a hit on him. He took out his spare gun from the hidden glove compartment and set it on the dashboard.
Then Maxim made another turn that would take him to the busy highway. That persuaded his pursuer to finally make a move on him.
Bullets hit the back window of his car. The bulletproof glass didn’t shatter. One stray managed to take off his side-mirror clean. He growled under his breath, pissed at his pursuer but mostly at himself for being so careless.
He put his foot on the pedal, driving beyond the city’s speed limits. His would-be assassin followed on his heels, persistent in chasing him down. Maxim made another sharp turn, entering a small side street that led to one of the abandoned neighborhoods in the city. Fuck.
Maxim thought he had the upper hand, but he ended up being led into a trap by the hunter. His tires hissed, and his car soon came to a halt. Lucky shot, Maxim thought. He hadn’t bothered with a bullet-proof vest today because he was simply on his way home. He had to do this the old-fashioned way.
He took out his personal revolver from his jacket and checked that he had a full clip. Then he called Lev for backup. Understandably, his brother was livid to hear Maxim had gotten himself in hot water.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Try to hold out that long,” Lev said, ending the call. No doubt his brother would bring plenty of guns and men.
Maxim looked behind him. The driver of the Pinto had stopped the car a few feet away. A tall, bald, and muscled man wearing black pants, a shirt, and combat boots emerged from the car. He wore a bullet-proof vest and carried what looked like a mini-uzi in his hand.
“Shit,” Maxim said under his breath. He vaguely wondered if he would be able to make it home to his wife today.