“Ha! What do the French know about good Russian food?” he snickered.
“Indeed,” I agreed.
Asshole!
“I haven’t been to America in many years. Tell me, Maxim, what should I see? Where can a simple Russian boy go for fun? This is your new country now. Tell me something. Are the American women as fine as ours back home?”
A simple Russian boy, my ass.
“Russian women are the best no matter where you go, Grigoriy.”
I was attempting to ever so gently blow smoke up his ass. There was no point in antagonizing the prick. Not when I was so close to being free of his murderous ass.
“Of course. I’m glad you haven’t sold out your soul to American pussy, Maxim,” he laughed crassly. His band of fellow assholes joined in the mocking.
“Never,” I said and smiled.
“So,” he started after the laughter had died down. “We are looking forward to hearing about your new business proposition. My partners and I are here to learn more. You can start. We’re listening.”
That was my queue to get the show on the road, so I started on the speech I’d rehearsed umpteen times with Stevens. I swore if anyone had woken me in the middle of the night, I’d be able to recite the narrative perfectly without batting an eye.
Grigoriy and his men listened intently until I had finished.
“Did you bring the paperwork?” he asked me.
“Yes, I have.”
I reached for my briefcase. I did so slowly. It never paid to make any sudden moves in the company I was in. I placed the paperwork on the table and waited for Grigoriy to pick it up.
“Do we have a deal, Grigoriy?” I asked and waited.
“Yes. We have a deal,” he grinned.
The moment the words left his mouth, the door to the suite flew open, sending shards of wood into the air. It all happened so fast that it seemed like I was moving in slow motion. Men, wearing black jackets with the letter DEA printer on the back and carrying automatic weapons streamed into the suite.
I hit the floor amid the sounds of men yelling and glassware breaking. Grigoriy’s eyes were as big as saucers. Clearly, he did not see the bust coming. Never once did it cross his mind that prissy, insignificant little Max would be his undoing.
I kept my head down until I felt rough hands grabbing my arms and slapping cuffs on my wrists. Grigoriy was swearing and cursing in Russian. No one needed a translator. Everyone could guess what he was saying.
Somewhere in the chaos, I heard the sound of a gunshot. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stevens going down, clasping his neck.
No! This wasn’t part of the plan! Fuck!
There was no time to stop and check on the man who had saved my ass. I was dragged off and thrown into a van.
38
ANGEL
My eyes wouldn’t stay closed no matter how much I willed them to. The clock on the nightstand read 10:35 pm. Ugh! My stomach was a mess. I kept getting up and going to the toilet but the odd pains persisted.
What had happened to Max? I knew the sting operation was supposed to have taken place that morning, but I hadn’t heard from Agent Stevens. How was I supposed to sleep peacefully while Max’s fate was hanging in the balance?
There was no point in staying in bed, so I got up and went to the kitchen to make a cup of Chamomile tea. The house was quiet. One of the agents was sitting in the living room. He greeted me when I entered and then left to go to another room. I was grateful as I wasn’t in a chatty mood.
I sat down and switched on the TV when I had my cup of tea. I flipped through the channels and settled on the news. If anything had happened that day, surely there would be something on the late-night news broadcasts.
I had the volume on mute. Then I saw it. The news anchor was talking into his microphone and in the background, I saw men being led out of a hotel in cuffs.