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Merciless Bratva Soldier

Page 37

by Sophie J. Rivers

I follow it out of Hammond in the van, changing the distance with the traffic. It passes the truck stop where Anton’s people lost it and keeps going to a warehouse park beyond Toledo. PRUITT FOODSERVICE, WHOLESALE AND COLD is painted above the dock.

Two men work the pallets off with a jack. A third slices away each shipping label before it crosses into the building.

That evening, after the dock crew leaves, I go into the office.

Dale Pruitt is in his fifties, silver flecks in black hair, heavy jowls, and black-rimmed glasses. He knows why I’m here, and I watch him decide not to call anyone.

I sit down without being told. “Let’s discuss the pallets that arrived this morning with labels that are now sitting in the dumpster outside.”

His Adam’s apple bobs above his shirt collar when he swallows. “Labels fall off. I don’t ask why.”

“You didn’t ask why, but you paid anyway.” I keep my voice level. “Show me the payments.”

He brings up the monthly wires to Lakefront on his screen and finds the matching invoices in a drawer, his movements clumsy. I photograph both. Anton can match the shipment dates against Brandt’s ledger.

“Keep paying until someone tells you to stop,” I say. “If anything changes, I’ll know where to find you.”

In the van, I send the wire records to Anton. Then my phone lights up with Vera’s screenshot of the message from Daniel Reed.

They asked me about Rosa’s alarm. I told them it’s the old one.

I read it twice. Then I call Anton.

“I want Daniel brought in,” I say. “Somewhere quiet. No questions until I get there.”

“We’ll have him by morning.”

I look at the screen. At the photograph Vera sent to me without being asked, and my jaw tightens. I said I would do whatever it takes to keep her safe. I also said no more secrets, and I can’t protect her if she doesn’t trust me.

“Wait,” I say. “I need to tell her first.”

Anton is quiet on the line for a moment, and I know what he’s thinking. We don’t let men like Daniel Reed pull stunts like this without consequences. We act. We shut it down. We move on.

“All right,” he says finally. “I’ll have men ready. You tell me when.”

I start the engine and drive across Indiana in the dark.

I get back at two, but I don’t go up. At three thirty a light comes on in my Fulton apartment, and I call her.

She answers on the first ring. Her voice is bright; she was already awake.

“Before you come downstairs,” I say, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

A pause. “What?”

“I asked Anton to bring Daniel in.”

The line goes quiet. I can hear the kettle beginning to tick. “Bring him in?” she says. “What does that mean?”

“We need to know what else he told them.” Them. The people he owes money to. Zorin’s people. “I wanted to speak to you first.”

Another silence. The kettle is louder now.

“Thank you,” she says softly and hangs up.

I’m waiting for her when she exits the building to go to work.

“Where’s Grisha?” Her eyes search both corners of the street for threats, and I’ve left her two choices: get in my car or go back inside.