I shot Gage a look as I walked into the room, letting him shut the door behind me. He didn’t lock it, and I was sure Dimitri heard that as well.
Chapter 7
As the massive steel door closed, I found myself alone in the small concrete room with Dimitri, the Russian muscle behind the rival operation opposing the Kings of Hell. Just by standing in the room I realized I was taking sides in whatever the conflict was between Ivan and Gage. My allegiance had already been determined for me.
And to make matters worse, the man sitting in the chair before me was a killer. Sure, he was worn out from sitting in that chair for an undisclosed amount of time, but his presence was threatening now that I knew who and what he was. I also knew that I had something invested in finding out what I could from him.
As much as I wanted to resent Gage for coming into my life and putting me in this position, I couldn’t deny my attraction to him. I also couldn’t deny the rush I got from realizing I was involved in some clandestine underground criminal activity. I wanted to deny how I felt. I wanted to be put-off, offended, all of that, but I wasn’t. It was thrilling to find myself here, skirting danger even as I approached the chair across from Dimitri. It was even more thrilling when I reflected on how delicious the man who got me into this was.
I sat down at the wooden table. Dimitri lifted his head, and seeing that it was me, he sat up straight in his chair.
“Help me,” he wheezed in Russian. We only talked in Russian.
“I’m trying,” I assured him, “but you’re going to have to give me some kind of information to take back to Gage if you want my help.”
“Fuck him,” he told me in his exhausted voice. “He’s going to kill me as soon as I give him any information. You have to know this.”
I looked Dimitri over. Other than where the ropes seemed to be rubbing him raw and a fresh cut on the middle finger of his right hand, he didn’t look like anyone had roughed him up. He looked tired, and his features were beginning to look a little emaciated, as if he’d been down in the basement for several days with minimal nourishment.
That wouldn’t have surprised me, I decided. It seemed very likely that Gage was treating him as a prisoner of war. A weakened killer was much better than a killer who was still on top of his game, I figured, making the situation with Dimitri a little easier to handle.
“Don’t you think he would have already killed you?” I asked him.
“No. He wants to torture me until I talk.”
“Well, as long as you don’t talk, we’re both prisoners here, Dimitri, so I need you to talk. I need to return to work and my life at home,” I told him, trying to appeal to his emotions.
He let his head fall forward again and laughed. “You’re never going to be free,” he said. “He’s not going to let you go.”
“What makes you say that, Dimitri?” I crossed my legs and shifted my weight in the chair.
“He doesn’t let anyone go. I’ve been watching Gage for years now. No one leaves him. Once you’re in, you’re in for life,” he croaked.
“I don’t know about that,” I told him. I wanted to believe Gage when he said he would let me go after all of this. Knowing the nature of his relationship with the Russian, I didn’t have high hopes for Dimitri, but I had to try to ignore that to convince him to talk.
“You’ll learn,” he said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
“Gage told me about who you are,” I mentioned, trying to provoke him to talk more.
“What did he tell you?” He tilted his head back down to face me, opening his blue eyes and giving me a chilling look.
“He told me you tried to kill him.”
A slow, crooked smile spread across Dimitri’s face. “I did. That rat bastard. He undercut my boss on a trade, and it cost us a customer. So I came around to pay him a visit. I camped out across the street, but when Gage and his biker thugs left the clubhouse, two of his men broke down the door where I was and jumped me. It was two on one, and it was a surprise attack. He knows he can’t take me one-on-one.”
“Says the guy who was camped out in a room across the street with a sniper rifle pointed as supposedly unsuspecting bikers who were leaving their clubhouse to go for a ride,” I added for him, helping him create some perspective.
“Hell, it didn’t even have to be with a sniper rifle,” he added. “He knows he can’t take me in hand-to-hand combat.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you had to distance yourself with a rifle like that. But what if I told you he had you defeated the moment you showed up to ambush the ride?”