The Final Hour

by London Miller

  “I’m glad you could make it,” Lauren said warmly going over to hug her.

  “It’s good to see you, Lauren. I’m glad you are happy.” She smiled kindly at Mishca, nodding in his direction, but when she looked over at Luka, there was a fire in her eyes.

  “You wanna tell me what I’m missing?” Amber whispered to Lauren, gesturing with a tilt of her head at the way Alex was glaring at Natasha and Luka.

  “Those two have or had a thing, at least that’s what I think, and Alex might have a secret thing for Luka though she hasn’t admitted to that yet.”

  Amber nodded, looking to Luka. “I guess I could see the attraction. Great body, but he can be a bit…” She trailed off like she didn’t know how to describe him.

  “Strange?” Lauren supplied helpfully. “Don’t worry, you can say it.”

  Mishca might not have completely agreed with the plans for the night, but he did finally agree—though it took another fifteen minutes of convincing on her part.

  “You’ll be careful tonight,” Mishca said when they were walking out, ignoring his sister’s scoff. “And if you need me, no matter the time, I want you to call me.”

  “Absolutely. I promise not to do anything too crazy.”

  The bar Amber insisted they go to was in the Village, a place she frequented when she had free time. It had a rustic sort of charm to it, aged wood a signature in the place.

  They all presented their IDs to the bartender when he appeared. Lauren didn’t even question how Alex had gotten ahold of a fake ID, knowing that she probably had just as many connections as Mishca did.

  “I have the first round,” Natasha announced, smiling flirtatiously at the man behind the counter. “

  “What are we drinking?” Lauren asked, knowing that it was important to ask ahead of time before she was given a drink that was eighty-proof.

  “Not for you to know,” Amber chimed in. “Just know that you can trust us.”

  “Well I would hope we wouldn’t drug her. She’s not really my type,” said Alex, giving Natasha a side-eyed glare.

  “Tall and blonde is more your type, no?”

  Amber and Lauren looked between Alex and Natasha though they were sitting on two different ends of the bar.

  Even the bartender seemed to notice the tension between the pair, his smile growing like he expected a fight to break out at any moment.

  Before things could escalate any further, Amber ordered for them. “We’ll start with eight shots of tequila, salt, and limes please.”

  He wandered off to fill their order.

  “That seems to be your type too, right Nat? Or do you have a wide spectrum?”

  The retort was below the belt, but only Lauren and Natasha knew what she was referring to. While she might not have looked like it, Natasha worked as a prostitute for the Gilded Room, or at least that was what Lauren assumed from what she had been told. It could very well be that Natasha worked as a den mother or something over the other girls there, but that was just wishful thinking on her part.

  “So tonight is Lauren’s night,” Amber said pointedly. While she didn’t know what the animosity between the girls was about—besides the fact that Luka was somehow involved—she didn’t want that to get in the way of the reason why they were all out. “That means it is our job to make sure you have a good time tonight. First, we’re getting you drunk.”

  Lauren shook her head, her eyes going wide as the bartender dropped off their tray of shots.

  “Oh loosen up,” Alex added. “You’re only going to get married once.”

  “Fine, fine. Let’s drink then.”

  “Nope.” Amber slid the tray closer to Lauren. “These are all for you.”

  Before Lauren lifted the first drink, she knew that it was going to be an epic night, and once the sour, burning liquid slid down her throat, she was more than excited for it.

  The night had officially begun.

  Amber held firm to what she’d said, refusing to let Lauren be without a drink. Lauren had lost count of the number of shots she had taken and the various fruity drinks. Some time in the wee hours of the morning, she had drunk a bottle of water. It helped for a few minutes, but she was too inebriated to feel the effects.

  Others had soon joined their party of four, cheering along with them. They had been right, it was like a right of passage, and the other patrons were more than happy to celebrate along with them.

  Raising her current glass, some of the green liquid sloshing over the edges, Lauren laughed, her cheeks flushed as she climbed to her feet, announcing for all the world to hear, “I’m getting married!”

  “We still doing this, Boss?” Luka asked excitedly, his gaze bouncing between Mishca and Vlad.

  Sometimes, Mishca didn’t understand how Luka could enjoy causing mayhem as much as he did, but considering they had gotten a tip that one of Jetmir’s enforcers was sniffing around Mishca’s territory, Mishca was willing to let Luka free for the night.

  There were only two days left before the wedding, and Mishca had tried his best to keep his business and the wedding separate, but for him to be able to do that, he also had to make sure Lauren was not in any danger. Tonight was the only night he would be able to take care of the enforcer, and he needed to get it done in the next couple of hours, hopefully before the end of Lauren’s ‘bachelorette’ party.

  If it had just been Lauren and Amber, he wouldn’t worry too much about what they might do, but with Alex tagging along, she had a knack for finding trouble, and there was no telling what she would get them involved in. Probably the damn strippers she was talking about.

  “Let’s move.”

  In the car, Luka was like a puppy hunting a squirrel, practically bouncing in his seat as he peered through the window, looking for any sign of the man they were looking for. It felt like they’d been circling for ages until Luka tapped the glass.

  “That’s our guy.”

  Vlad circled the block once more, letting Luka out around the corner. Mishca didn’t want the guy to get nervous and run off, not before he got the chance to question him.

  Plus, Luka liked to chase down his prey.

  Mishca’s phone pinged with a new message, Luka’s confirmation that he had him. Stepping out of the car, Mishca slipped on a pair of gloves, focusing on the present, pushing Lauren to the back of his mind.

  They entered the alley where Luka and the guy were waiting. Luka waved, his other hand forcing the man to remain on his knees, one of his fingers plugging a hole in the guy’s shoulder.

  “You had one job, Luka.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Then maybe you should have been more specific.”

  “Please,” the Albanian on the ground spoke up, looking to Mishca. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just don’t kill me.”

  “Don’t worry, he won’t move until I tell him. Now, where is Jetmir Besnik?”

  Now, it didn’t seem like the Albanian was willing to be all that helpful. He hesitated, long enough to tick Luka off enough to dig his finger deeper. Mishca didn’t mind it, it made his job easier.

  “You don’t know him,” he murmured, sniffing back tears. “I can’t.”

  Mishca rolled his eyes at the simpering man kneeling in front of him, used to the familiar pleas of a man that feared betraying his boss. Of course Mishca was partly to blame. He was now pressing the barrel of his gun to the man’s forehead, but he doubted it was the man’s first time in the situation…though it might be his last.

  “Where is he?” Mishca didn’t plan on asking a third time.

  “H-He left the country!” The man exclaimed. He believed that as long as he was talking, he would be spared.

  “Back to Albania?”

  “Yes.”

  That wasn’t enough.

  Since Jetmir had fallen off the map after Mishca’s men had left him in a field, Mishca knew that he would flee back to his home country. What he really needed to know was what Jetmir was planning. Once they had found Brahim’s
body—no matter that it was Klaus’ doing—Lauren was ‘in-blood’ with the Albanians. Like the Russians had their code of ethics, the Albanians had their own. To be considered ‘in-blood’ with the Albanians meant that no matter how long it took, that person was a dead man walking.

  So long as Mishca breathed, he wouldn’t let them near her again, so if that meant killing them all one by one, he would gladly do it.

  “I need to get into contact with him. Call him.”

  “I don’t—I can’t. He has gone off grid, I swear it. No one can reach him now.”

  Sighing, Mishca shifted the aim of his gun until it was pointed at the ground, just to the left of his ear.

  He pulled the trigger.

  The loud bang made the man shout in pain, his ruptured eardrum causing blood to trickle out of his ear. He clasped his hand there, but that did nothing to lessen the pain.

  “One ear left,” Mishca said, tapping the gun against the man’s good ear.

  “I swear! He can’t be found!”

  “Then you are no longer use—”

  The loud chiming of a phone made Mishca lower his weapon. They all looked around, trying to find the source of the noise, until Mishca pulled out his own Blackberry.

  Lauren’s name appeared on the screen, a picture of her beaming face momentarily distracting him from his bleak surroundings.

  “Moya globushka,” he answered with a smile, pointing the gun back at the man’s head.

  “Mish!”

  He pulled the phone away from his ear, the blaring music and her exclamation nearly rupturing his eardrum. Luka mimicked a whip with his hand, even going so far as to make the sound effect too.

  “Mish, I need you to pick us up!” She was still yelling despite the music quieting down.

  Judging from the way she sounded, Lauren was well past her limit of drinks.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Oh, yea, yea, yea. I just it was a good idea and—no don’t take my phone—Mish, what was I saying? Do you have any strippers?”

  “Tell me where you are and I’ll come.”

  “But what about the strippers?”

  Luka looked like he was dangerously close to laughing, even Vlad was trying not to smile.

  Still ignoring that, he said, “Give me the address.”

  She rattled it off to him, promising to call him back once she was done—though she never specified what she would be done with. Mishca shook his head as he pocketed his phone, returning his attention to the Albanian.

  “Hey.” He tapped his gun against the man’s cheek, forcing his gaze up. “What’s Jetmir planning?”

  “I don—”

  He never got to finish that statement before Mishca fired, plugging a bullet into the man’s skull.

  “That was a bit premature, no?” Luka asked, staring down at the body with a frown. “We could have at least tortured him a bit first.”

  “He doesn’t know anything. Find another one, and when we finally get to one that actually knows something, maybe he’ll live.”

  It took no time at all for Mishca to get back to the city, parking his car a few blocks down from the bar Lauren had said they were in. As he walked, he double-checked his appearance, making sure there wasn’t anything on his clothing to make Lauren question where he’d been, not that she would be able to discern it in her intoxicated state.

  Actually, he was kind of looking forward to seeing her carefree, with her guard down. She had used to be like that, always so cheerful, but some days he felt like he sucked that joy out of her by showing her his world.

  In some ways, he felt like he had tainted her and he regretted that, but not enough to let her go.

  When this was all over, and every threat against them was squelched, he would make it his duty to put a smile back on her face.

  The bar wasn’t particularly crowded when Mishca entered, but his eyes had automatically went to Lauren where she was at the bar, throwing back another shot as Alex—as well as a group of people surrounding them—cheered her on. Amber was off to the side, speaking to a man that had his body angled away from Mishca, but judging from the expression on her face, she was enjoying his company.

  When he was halfway across the floor, Lauren looked up in his direction, her answering smile the brightest he had ever seen it. Clearly, she was a happy drunk.

  “My love,” she said in a soft voice, hopping down from the stool to wrap her arms around him. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

  The crowd began to disperse at Mishca’s appearance, Alex giggling into her fist at the sight Lauren was making. Of course this was the one night she had chosen not to get drunk.

  “I’m sober,” she said like she could read his thoughts. “I was going to drive, but she clearly wanted to see you.”

  Lauren was swaying on her feet, humming below her breath as she danced to a song only she could hear.

  “How much has she had to drink?”

  Alex shrugged like it was no big deal. “Maybe five shots.”

  “Then we had martinis—maybe a margarita thrown in there at some point. Oh! And this cool drink called an Aviator cocktail. Have no idea what’s in it, but it was awesome.”

  With Lauren rambling on, Mishca glared at his sister.

  “Don’t worry, Mish. She’ll be up bright and early tomorrow,” Amber chimed in walking back over, a small slip of paper in hand.

  “With a hangover, no doubt. I blame the two of you for this. You shouldn’t have let her drink so much.”

  “Don’t try to spoil my night,” Lauren drunkenly said, poking him in the chest with her finger. “Tonight was epic.”

  Trying not to laugh, he swept an arm behind her legs, picking her up. “Let’s go.”

  They brokered no argument as they followed him out to his car, climbing into the backseat. Mishca placed Lauren on the passenger side, maneuvering the seatbelt around her so she could lay down.

  To drive comfortably, he had to adjust the seat back, not wanting Lauren to have to move.

  As they started out onto the street, Mishca looked through the rearview mirror at the girls in the back. “Now I see why you had your little party two days before the wedding.”

  “Yeaaa, cause she’s definitely not walking down the aisle like that,” Alex said with a laugh. “I think our night was a success?”

  They fist bumped, leaving Mishca shaking his head.

  It didn’t take long getting back to the hotel, and while Luka escorted Amber and Alex to their rooms, Mishca carried Lauren to his room. Since they were already spending the day apart tomorrow, he wanted her next to him until then, even if she would be hardly aware of that fact.

  Lauren giggled as Mishca carried her into his suite, gently laying her back on the bed. She reached for him trying to get him to stay, but he easily slipped free, helping to remove her shoes.

  “I could do that,” Lauren said, clumsily reaching for the zipper at the front of her dress.

  Mishca was patient with her, moving her hands to the side so he could do it. He thought about trying to dress her as well, but he was just a man after all, and rather liked what she was wearing currently.

  When he got her comfortable, Mishca stripped out of his own clothes, pulling her into his side.

  “You have a beautiful smile, Mish,” Lauren said whimsically, her words making him smile wider. “I’m glad I get to keep you.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  She traced over one of his stars with her pinky, and while he was charmed by her affections, he knew she was going to have one hell of a morning.

  Lauren hadn’t understood before, why they wanted to have the bachelorette party two days before the actual wedding, but when she woke up to a headache that threatened to split her skull open, and nausea churning in her stomach, she understood very well.

  She also learned that she hated tequila, just a little bit.

  “Oh God,” Lauren muttered, yanking the cover over her head to block out the rays of sunlight st
reaming through the windows, the drapes pulled back.

  Wherever Mishca was, she was going to kill him for leaving them open. She specifically remembered them being closed the night before—at least she thought they had been closed. Were they closed? What the hell happened last night?

  “Are you awake under there?”

  She groaned, Mishca’s voice like nails on a chalkboard to her pounding head. “Please, not so loud.”

  He chuckled, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood as he came closer to her. He gently extracted the cover from her hands, pulling it back to present her with a glass full of a thick looking liquid.

  “Drink this.”

  He didn’t say what it was, and she didn’t ask, dutifully taking a large gulp, her entire face scrunching up as she fought the urge to spit it back out. She managed to swallow, cringing as the taste stuck at the back of her throat.

  “This is possibly the worst thing I have ever tasted in my life. What the hell is this?” She turned the glass over in her hands, squinting at the offending liquid.

  “The cure for a hangover. Make sure you drink all of it.”

  He looked far too amused by her current situation, but at least he had lowered his voice where it wasn’t making her headache worse.

  “Where’s Alex and Amber?”

  “In their consecutive rooms, looking about as bad as you feel. No worries, Luka is taking care of them.”

  She gave him a dry stare, dutifully taking another sip when he signaled at it. “Then I should be worried.”

  “No worries, love. Vlad is there as well.”

  She groaned, pulling the cover over her head. “Why are you up so early?”

  “It’s twelve-thirty.”

  “So early.”

  “I brought you something, hopefully it will help.”

  Lauren peeked out, curious as to what it was. If it was anything like that drink, he could keep it.

  It wasn’t. He held a folded print-out, a certificate she read when she opened it for a spa trip. She wanted to jump up and hug him, but she feared what the motion would do to her already pounding head, though she did have to admit that whatever he had given her was helping.

  “You’re the best fiancé a girl could ask for.”