Page 35 of Daddy Brigadier

I close my eyes for a moment, long enough to fall asleep in the arms of the man who intends to kill me later.

I wake abruptly,my hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside me where he should be. My fingers tremble over thecold sheets, as pieces of last night flash through my mind. I sit up suddenly, and a sharp pain in my temple pulsates, like a second heartbeat.

“Valentin,” I call softly, but there’s no response.

As I rise from the bed, many tender bruises are beginning to emerge on my hips. And as I pause at the bedroom doorway, I find a delightful surprise waiting for me there.

The dining table in the hotel room is overflowing with food. I walk over, savoring a juicy strawberry and pouring myself a cup of coffee.

That’s when I spot a note:

I paid for the weekend. Order as much room service as you want. If you want to extend your stay, they have my card. See you soon, Krasotka.

I press my lips to the piece of paper and breathe in its scent. It reminds me of him, causing my heart to race and a smile to light up my face.

Holding the note, I sink into the softest mattress on which I’ve ever slept.

I should probably head back home, but honestly, who would choose a lumpy couch over this sumptuous place? I lean back against the headboard and turn on the television, savoring my small gift.

“See you soon, Daddy Brigadier.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

VALENTIN

“Brigadier, what do you think?” Dmitri Savin asks, his fist raised and dripping with blood.

“He knows something. Let’s give him a few more minutes to jog his memory,” I respond.

With a sly grin, Dmitri spins around and lands a powerful punch on the man’s face, shattering his nose. The man sits there, bloodied and weeping like a child, blood and mucus flowing freely.

“Ronaldo, tell me—who is Bianchi’s arms dealer?” I demand.

“Go to hell!” he shouts, and the men around me burst into laughter. In our line of work, it feels as though eternal damnation is a given for all of us.

I nod to Dmitri, who wastes no time. His right fist slams into Ronaldo’s jaw, followed swiftly by a punch to his eye. Poor Ronaldo, he’s just an unfortunate Italian soldier caught in the chaos of war, no one important to me. Dmitri is just getting warmed up. It’s shaping up to be a long, brutal day for Ronaldo.

“Damn, I miss being in the action!” Dmitri says and laughs, pausing to wipe the sweat off his forehead. It’s hard to believe that two years have flown by since he was promoted to Brigadier, right after his brother Andrei took on the role of Pakhan.

The Savins are Coalition royalty, like me, and come from a proud legacy of Brigadiers. The Savin boys are like sons to me, especially after their father died when they were teenage boys. I enjoy taking a break from the business world to spend time with them and kill an enemy.

“Nikolai, help us out here.” I gesture toward the tall, brooding man looming behind me.

Nikolai swiftly grabs an ice pick and hurls it at Dmitri.

As he catches it, Dmitri plunges the pick into Ronaldo’s right shoulder. Ronaldo’s anguished scream vibrates throughout the empty meatpacking plant.

“Other shoulder,” I command.

Dmitri positions himself for another attempt when Ronaldo interrupts, “Wait!”

I close the distance. “Now you want to talk, Ronaldo?”

“If I tell you, he’ll kill me,” he murmurs, and there’s terror in his eyes.

But it only brings a smile to my lips. “You’re already dead. But if you share what we want, we’ll make it quick. If you don’t, Dmitri will have his fun with you all day.” I nod toward Dmitri, expertly twirling the ice pick in his hand.

“I don’t know his name,” he stammers.