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Hard Bastard(42)

By:B. B. Hamel


“I’m just going along with whatever you tell me to do.”

“Of course you are. But have you broken down? Have you given up? That’s real strength. The ability to keep going when things look bleak is real strength.”

She nodded slowly, eyes locked on mine. “Thanks, Gage.”

“Yeah,” I grunted. “Sure.” There was a brief pause and then I smiled. “So, what do you want for fucking breakfast?”

She laughed and the tension broke between us.

I hoped she understood what I was saying, and understood the necessity of her staying behind. She was just a liability out in the field. I couldn’t account for her safety or for what she was going to do if I was going to have a shot at making this meeting work.

But before any of that could happen, we needed to have breakfast. Everybody should have a good fucking breakfast, even people on the run from the mob.



Hours later, around two thirty in the afternoon, I parked my car in the lot at Miller’s Park and waited.

I scanned the area, looking for mafia guys. I knew almost every man in the family, though there could be a few that I’d never seen before. From what I could tell, the park was full of moms and their kids. The only men in sight were either very old, very young, or clearly just suburban dads out watching their children.

You could always spot a mafia man if you knew what you were looking for. A lot of us have tattoos, but that wasn’t necessarily what you needed to look out for. It was more of a way of holding yourself, a swagger, a confidence. Mafia guys thought they owned the fucking world, and walked around like everything they saw was there for them to take. Often that was really the case, but it marked a man and made it obvious if you knew what to watch out for. Even a guy just sitting there did certain things that marked him as mafia.

There were no mafia guys in the park. I was pretty positive of that. I got out of my car, checking my gun before slipping it back into my waistband. I had ten minutes before Vadik would expect me, and so I started to walk the perimeter of the park.

I stayed close to the action, but I kept my eyes peeled. I watched trees, other cars, nearby buildings, and anything that could hide a man. There was nobody around that seemed suspicious aside from the usual weirdos that went to a park full of kids. I wasn’t interested in those guys, though.

I made my rounds and didn’t find a single fucking thing. That actually made me even more worried. Vadik had to know that I expected him to bring some muscle around and I doubted he would hide them if he did. But instead, I really was seeing absolutely nothing, no sign of anything amiss.

I headed back toward the main part of the park. It was time, and I needed to get into position. I figured it would be best if I could sit down first and choose the spot.

As I headed toward the playground, which was the most populous part of the park, I had to slow down and stop walking. Sitting at the very bench I was going to choose was Vadik himself, reading a newspaper.

I stared for a second, a little surprised that he had actually shown up. I expected someone else, or at least a whole group of guys. But he was alone as far as I could tell, just casually reading the paper like nothing big was happening.

I scanned the area, heart racing. Part of me wanted to get the fuck out of there, but I had come this far already. I walked over, not letting my unease get in the way of my confidence.

“Vadik,” I said, stopping next to him.

He looked up and smiled. “Hello, Gage.”

Vadik Petrov was in his late fifties. He was thin with gray hair and sharp features. His eyes were a cold steel blue and his smile was crooked. He looked like an accountant, but the scar down his chin suggested a bloody and violent past. He wore thin framed glasses and a suit like he had just come from the office.

“Sit, please,” he said. “We’re very much alone here.”

“I checked the park. You might not be lying.”

He laughed. “Good. You’re smart to be thorough.”

I sat at the other end of the bench. “First sign of trouble and I’m gone.”

“No trouble,” he said, folding the paper. “Want this?” He held it out for me.

“No, thanks.”

He shrugged and put it in his lap. “So. You killed Kuzma.”

“I did.”

“I never liked that guy,” he said. “Brutal, mindless. He was a thug. Perfect for certain jobs, like the one we sent him on, but sometimes difficult to fully control.”

“You don’t sound like you miss him much.”

“Oh, I don’t,” he said, laughing. “Of course, I have to pretend to be outraged about the whole thing. You did kill a member of the family, after all.”