Tainted Love(43)

He pulls his glasses up and nods his head. “Yes, I believe I do. However, it’s not good. So Ade? Leave your gun outside.”

Ollie chuckles. “His gun is the least of your worries.”

Drago pauses for a second before taking a seat in his big chair and starts typing on his keyboard. “So as I said, you’re not going to like this,” he says as he continues typing.

I lean over to him. “Drago, hurry the fuck up and spit it out.”

“You see this?” he points to the screen, “This is where I followed them, using all the CCTV cameras across the city. It takes us to an airport.”

I lean back on my chair. “What the fuck do you mean, an airport?”

He puts his hand up, pausing my talking. “That’s not all. I traced the jet they took and it belongs to a Kazimir Lyov.”

Sucking in my breath at the mention of that name and yelling, “Fuck!” I smash my fist on the table.

Zane looks at me sideways. “What is it, brother?”

Drago pulls his glasses off and squeezes his fingers over the bridge of his nose. “Kazimir Lyov is a Russian name, right?” The stress evident in his tone.

“Don’t tell me he’s a part of the Russian Mafia,” Ollie adds with disbelief in his tone.

I bring my fist up to my mouth, running my index finger over my lip. “Kazimir Lyov is the Russian Mafia.”

Zane circles his steps, coming next to me.

“What do you mean ‘is the Russian mafia’? And what the fuck would he want with us?”

I clench my jaw together. “When I was younger, my dad would take me to these fights.”

Zane nods his head. “Yeah, the fights we went to.”

I shake my head. “Nah, not those ones. They were child’s play. I’m talking death matches.”

Zane’s arms cross in front of him. “So that one fight he took you to at the warehouse, wasn’t the only time?”

I shake my head before continuing, “The first life I took was when I was thirteen. It was the first time he took me to Bruce Peyton. I had no idea what the fuck was going on, but I did it. Killed him in under a minute, made a lot of men filthy rich.”

Ollie and Chad sit on the floor. Zane and Blake knew some of this story, but nothing past it.

“This carried on until I was fifteen, then I was done. I walked out of there, told my dad to get fucked…for real this time…right before he died. Anyway, the underground fighting was just the surface of what kind of operation they were running. I’m talking, trafficking, child slavery, drugs, everything. They would train up orphan boys from a young age and throw them in the ring once they hit thirteen, sometimes even younger. They’d gamble on these young boys in hopes that they would find one, like me, that they could put a lot of money on. It was a money pot, and eventually the Russians wanted in. No one has ever met Kazimir Lyov aside from his bitch boys. He’s the ghost who’s been running all major underground operations for over thirty years. Some say he lives a double life, some say he works for the CIA. It’s all shit talk obviously—the CIA bit. But that’s not even the part that fucks me up the most.” I swallow down the bile that I can feel in my throat. “Kazimir Lyov’s specialty is trafficking women.” Zane hisses and I throw my head into my hands.

“Fuck brother,” I say into my hands.

“Kazimir Lyov’s location is off radar. No one has ever been able to find him. He lives in the fucking Bermuda Triangle.”





A week passes—a fucking week. We have nothing. I have nothing. Pulling myself out of one of the beds in the clubhouse, my head pounds from a hangover. I’m rubbing my hands over my face when the bathroom door opens and out strolls Gretchen in one of my SS T-shirts, looking smug as fuck.

I shoot up off the bed. “What the fuck!”

She rolls her eyes, walking back to the bed. “Don’t play dumb, Ade. You fucked me as good last night as you’ve done every other time.”

I walk over to her, wrap my hand around her hair and yank her head into me.

“What the fuck did you just say?” I whisper into her ear.

She taps on my hand. “Ade, a little rough, seriously. Even for me.”

“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Just. Say?” I whisper again into her ear, venom dripping from my stuttering tone.

She scrunches up her face. “We had sex, like all the other times. Seriously—”

I grip onto her head and put it in a lock hold. Grasping onto her temples, I snap her neck in one swift, perfect, twist. Making her lifeless, disgusting, body drop to the ground. I spit on her, throw on my T-shirt and my cut over the top, before walking out of the room.