Partners

by D B Steward

  Chapter Eleven

  “Ms. Golovkin, Mr. Popov will see you now.” Amina heard the voice of Popov’s assistant and looked up from her phone. She had been texting details to her people about the clients that they would be entertaining tonight and which of the assets had been requested. Gregory extended his hand toward the stairs behind him that he had just come down. “If you’ll please follow me.” Amina rose and followed him out of the large foyer with its huge window walls and up the stairs.

  “I admire your initiative, Ms. Golovkin.” He spoke softly as they walked side by side. “It shows forward thinking on your part to see that your current situation is deteriorating and change course to a more tenable position.” Amina regarded the man carefully. He was saying something without saying it but she had no intention of revealing anything to him without knowing his true intentions. “I myself share that type of insight.” He gave her a sideways glance that conveyed to her that he was indeed communicating with her. “Perhaps we should speak together privately sometime?” Amina knew Gregory Martin’s reputation as a shrewd businessman and began to imagine what his financial knowledge and influence could do for her. In an instant, she made her decision.

  “Perhaps.”

  Gregory nodded as they reached the door to Petrov’s office and opened it for her. He led her inside and showed her to a chair opposite Petrov who sat motionless as if he was the reincarnation of Josef Stalin, the man of steel himself. “So, tell me why I don’t kill you right now?” Petrov looked at the woman with the stone eyes who was sitting across from his desk. “You and my son with your gluppy harem business have become a pain in my ass.” He blew smoke from his half-smoked cigar directly in her face and watched as she kept her face impassive. “So tell me, you Bosnian whore, why I don’t just put your head in a box and mail it back to your little pisshole of a village?”

  To her credit, her expression never changed. Women were weak in his opinion; it was not an insult, it was simply nature. Men ruled the world through strength, strength that women were unable to possess. But he saw something in the woman sitting opposite him on the other side of his desk. He saw that this was one tough bitch. Amina had not moved an inch since she was seated in front of the elder Popov. She had silently taken her measure of the man and recognized him from all the men she had ever met in her life. Years of experience had taught her that the ego of men like Petrov Popov was very fragile and needed to be nursed like a baby sparrow. To satisfy him, she would have to vomit whatever he needed to swallow for her to survive him, and she would survive. She always survived.

  “We are both the same. You and I.” She spoke carefully and in Russian. “We see the world for what it really is, we understand it, and we thrive because of it.” Petrov leaned back in his chair and pulled a long drag on his cigar, the sound of burning leaves filling the silence between her words. “What I have to offer you is much more than a harem of prostitutes.” Petrov harrumphed.

  “Please, I sell pussy already. What do I need with more pussy? It grows on trees. You offer me nothing.” Cigar smoke danced in front of him as he waved off his opinion of her offer. Her sudden and harsh laugh surprised, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

  “Is that what you think I do? That I sell crack whores to college virgins and pedophile plumbers looking to get their dicks sucked in the alley?” Her voice was raised now and her eyes blazed with a fire that impressed the man. “I provide fantasy. I give the wealthy what they desire deep in their soul, things that society tells them is taboo. Every one of my clients gets thoroughly vetted, their backgrounds are checked, and their financials gone through with a fine-tooth comb. These men and a few women are the top one percent of the one percent. They come to me because they have needs that the world tells them are evil or wrong. I satisfy those needs. I use girls that won’t be missed. That won’t be mourned. They are disposable and the supply is limitless.”

  Petrov was careful to mask his shock behind the blue smoke of the nearly finished cigar, the heat rising as the ash came closer to his fingertips. This woman was impressive indeed, he thought. She was not much to look at but he made up his mind that he would fuck her. He had to, so she would know that he was the one in charge.

  “If what you are saying is true, then this might be something that I can sink my teeth into.” Morality was a hindrance that made men lesser and he had nothing but contempt for the weak. If a man got a hard-on from beating a girl to death and he was willing to pay for the privilege, then Popov would be more than happy to take their money from them.

  Amina knew that she had him then. Men were so simple and men like Popov even more so. They were driven by one of two things, power or women, and Petrov was very much driven by the former. Of course, she would have to suck his dick or even more, as he would want to mark his territory. She would submit, she would endure, and she would survive.

  After a moment of contemplation that was just for show, he had made his decision instantly, but his pause was meant to signal to Amina that he considered her offer to be unimportant in the grand scheme of things, although he was already thinking of ways to make even more money from her clients. Extortion; most of those wealthy snobs would not want to have their proclivities made public. Drugs; possible services that he could take advantage of. It was really a no-brainer. “You work for me now.” He said it with finality and although she did not move a single muscle in reaction, she knew she had done it, she had survived.

  “What about your son?” she asked the question but she already knew his answer. This was a man that had no feeling of sentimentality to anything in this world.

  The cigar had finally gone out and the smoke slowly faded away as it rose upward to the ceiling and then out of sight. Petrov placed it in the ashtray on his sparsely populated desk before he spoke. “What about him?”

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  “I feel like we’re in the A-Team! You could be Hannibal and I’ll be Mr. T!” Kelly was trying to break the tension that was thick inside the nondescript panel van that sat parked a block away from the house that was the target of the assassin’s assault that night. “My prediction? Pain.” She waited for Sonny to respond but the other woman remained silent. “That was actually one of his lines from Rocky III. I would have done a line from the show but I figured you probably never saw it. Seeing how you were grown in a lab or whatever.” Her joke fell flat, however, as Sonja’s face never even twitched in response. Her dark eyes locked onto Kelly’s in an intense stare.

  “This is serious, Miss King.” Her stern and steady voice barely rose above a whisper. “You will not get me killed tonight. Do you understand?” Kelly paused, unsure whether the question was rhetorical or not.

  “Uh, I’ll do my best not to?” Her shoulders rose in a slight shrug that was met by a frustrated grimace from Sonny.

  After an exasperated sigh, Sonny spoke to her again. “I am trusting you with my life, Miss King, and I very much want to continue living. The situation you are about to go into will be unlike anything you have encountered in your life. Any kind of mistake, any hesitation will get you killed and most likely me killed as well. The men inside are not going to give up. They are not the kind of men who get arrested. I plan on handling the entire situation, but if it comes down to it, when you are placed in the position where it is your life or theirs, can you do what needs to be done?” The honesty and intensity in Sonny’s speech made Kelly swallow involuntarily.

  “Why are you taking me inside again? Just crack the window a little and I’ll be fine.” As she often did in uncomfortable cases, Kelly tried to deflect the tension with humor. Sonny did not take the bait.

  “I’m being serious.”

  “For a change.”

  Sonny ran her fingers through her hair in absolute frustration. How did this woman push her buttons so expertly when they had only just met? Kelly King was impossible. Not for the first time that night, she que
stioned the wisdom of bringing the insufferably annoying woman. “I can’t let you escape, we both know that. You are a resourceful woman and if I left you by yourself, you would get away and become another complication down the road that I don’t need.” Kelly saw Sonny’s eyes soften ever so slightly as she continued. “Most importantly, Miss King, I believe you are a good person. What you are about to see inside that house will show you why I am doing this and why it needs to be done. I am putting my trust in you, and if you knew me, then you would realize just how huge that is.”

  The words really affected Kelly in a way that she had not anticipated. Sonny’s sincerity and honesty had given her a glimpse inside the soul of the stone-cold assassin. For reasons she could not explain, she wanted to show Sonny that she could be trusted. She wanted Sonny’s approval. “I get it, Sonny. I do.” Her sincerity was evident as she spoke. “I won’t let you down in there. I will watch your back.” She winked playfully. “And what an excellent backside it is.”

  Sonny rolled her eyes but found that she was not as vexed as she was before by Kelly’s flattery. She found that she was growing accustomed to it, and if she was being totally honest with herself, she was starting to like it. “Eyes on them, Miss King. Not on me.”

  “No promises.”

  After a brief flash of irritation, Sonny climbed into the back seat and opened a large black case that rested there. While pursing her lips at Kelly, Sonny reached inside the case, her hand disappearing for just a moment and then returning to view as she withdrew it, now holding a pistol by the barrel, a Glock just like the one that Sonny used, before handing it to Kelly. The ex-federal agent was again weighing her choices internally, take Sonny in and get paid or reward the other woman’s newly given trust and watch her back. Well, I’ve been broke before. I can handle being broke again. She decided then and there that keeping Sonja Moretti’s trust had become more valuable than money and that no matter what happened to them going forward, she would not be able to complete her contract.

  “You know, I’m a felon,” Kelly said with a smile. “You’re breaking the law by giving me a gun.” Kelly checked the pistol’s clip to make sure it was loaded, and then chambered a round. Sonny surprised her with a brief laugh. The sound was an immediate turn on to Kelly and she hoped that she would hear more of it in the future.

  “Well, Miss King,” Sonny began wryly, “that won’t be the worst law that I break tonight.” She removed a hair scrunchie off her wrist and pulled her slightly longer than shoulder-length black hair into a tight ponytail. “You can count on that.” She then put a skin-tight black mask on her face that exposed her face through a large oval that rounded underneath her jaw and extended just below her hairline, then wrapping around and covering the top of her head and her ponytail.

  Kelly raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “Going scuba diving?”

  “People seldom fight fairly and pulling hair is a regular occurrence when one is in a struggle for one’s life.” Sonny’s response was deadly serious as she made some last minute adjustments to the mask, securing it around her face, but Kelly just frowned at her.

  “I want one!” she whined with an overly exaggerated pout. Smiling reluctantly at her before averting her eyes to the gear in her case, Sonny shook her head, trying to ignore how adorable Kelly looked with her lip stuck out and her puppy dog eyes.

  “I’m afraid I only have one. You understand that I usually do this kind of thing alone, right?”

  “But what if they pull my hair?” she whined again but Sonny just shrugged in response as she pulled out a belt with what appeared to be spare clips of ammunition attached to it.

  “Shoot ‘em.”

  “Nice to know you have a plan,” Kelly deadpanned.

  “I do. For myself.” She smirked. “For you, however, we will have to play it by ear.” Kelly watched as Sonny continued to get ready, fascinated by the woman’s intensity and preparation. Her interest was piqued when she saw Sonny putting on a black bulletproof vest.

  “Is that custom-made?” She was very impressed by it and a little bit jealous as well.

  Sonny grinned at her. “It offers the same protection but is cut down to my size to give me more flexibility.” She winked at Kelly just then. “I don’t buy anything off the rack.”

  “Lucky!” Kelly drawled out.

  “Napoleon Dynamite,” Sonny responded and Kelly nodded respectfully.

  “So where’s mine?”

  Sonny sighed. “Just try not to get shot.”

  “I’m too old for this shit,” Kelly muttered under her breath.

  Although it was meant in good fun, her answer made Kelly start to really weigh the gravity of the situation. As an agent in the FBI, she had gone through many tactical exercises, but she had never been involved in a shootout in the real world. This was life and death. There was a chance that Kelly could be killed and the thought chilled her like a bucket of ice water dumped on her head. It was not just the prospect of her own death that troubled her, it was the uncertainty that she would be able to take another life if she was forced to. Could she pull the trigger on someone, or would she hesitate and get herself or Sonny killed?

  Sonny was just finishing up her preparations when she had noticed that Kelly had gone quiet, which she considered odd with how much the woman usually ran her mouth. Looking at the woman, she could see that she was bothered and Sonny believed she knew the reason why. Her job was not something that average people could get their head around. It flew in the face of everything that society was built on. Life was precious to most people—at least that is what many told themselves, even if the world constantly showed them otherwise. Taking life was one of the most heinous of all crimes and those who did it were often considered monsters. Sonny did not see herself as a monster; she saw herself more as a technician, a skilled laborer just doing their job. But then she had her whole life to rationalize her vocation, while Kelly had been granted just five minutes. She placed her hand gently on Kelly’s forearm and looked deeply into her eyes, trying to ignore the rush she felt from the physical contact.

  “Hey,” she stated softly. “You don’t have to do this. I know this is a lot to try and come to terms with and I can do this on my own.” She looked away from Kelly’s bright eyes but found that she was rubbing her thumb against the woman’s soft skin, trying to comfort her. What is this woman doing to me? “This is something that you won’t be able to come back from, and I won’t force you to go in there.”

  Kelly felt the heat of Sonny’s hand on her own and did not miss the fact that she was rubbing her thumb against her arm. The realization that Sonny cared about Kelly’s feelings touched her and scared her at the same time. The connection she was developing with her was becoming much more than just lust. The concern from the assassin only strengthened her resolve, however. She would be up to the challenge.

  “I can do this.” Her tone was resolute and impressed Sonny. They sat in silence as both smiled tenderly at the other, eyes locked and the air thick with tension. Unable to handle the pressure any longer, Kelly spoke. “So do we kiss now or…?”

  Once again, Sonny’s quick laughter filled Kelly with a satisfied feeling. Sonny playfully slapped Kelly’s bicep. “You are impossible, Miss King.”

  From the shadows of the overhanging trees cast by the dim and neglected streetlights over the silent street, they watched the house and its solitary sentinel as the night held its breath. Clad in black with Kelly standing behind her just off her right shoulder, Sonny ran through her options in her head. Alone, she could slip behind the guard and eliminate him before he had a chance to alert anyone inside. With Kelly, however, it would take longer to drag the other woman along behind her and make sure she was silent, and time was not on her side in this type of operation. Not knowing the schedule of the guards’ rotation, Sonny needed to move quickly. Kelly seemed to read her mind as she tapped the woman’s shoulder with her elbow, leaning into Sonny’s ear. Her entire body stiffened as she felt the soft breath
of the ex-federal agent against her skin, and Sonny could not stop her lips from parting or her eyelids from drooping.

  “Trouble, huh?” she whispered. “You don’t know how to do your ninja stuff with me here, right? Let me handle it.” Sonny turned to face her with an incredulous look.

  “You?” She almost snorted in derision which in turn made Kelly scowl.

  “I can distract the guard and you take him out.” Sonny raised an unsure eyebrow at the statement. “I have skills too, Moretti,” Kelly hissed. “I can do it quick and you’ll be on him before he can call for help.” Sonny frowned and started to open her mouth to say something but Kelly placed her hand over her mouth to silence her, much to the wide-eyed surprise of the assassin. “Trust me. You just get your sexy ass in position and watch me work.” She winked and removed her hand from Sonny’s mouth, and the assassin was unable to reply.

  This woman was going to be a major distraction. Sonny simply nodded and slipped away into the shadows.

  Kelly grinned as she watched Sonny make her way across the street, expertly keeping herself out of sight of the guard and privately enjoying how she was able to rattle the other woman by flirting with her. Bringing herself back to reality, Kelly scanned the filthy street for an appropriate prop. She grabbed a discarded beer can and quickly got into character.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Antonio!” The guard’s head snapped to attention as he watched the drunk woman holding a beer, staggering toward the house. She was loud and her eyes were wild and unsteady but she could barely keep herself upright. “Antonio! Get out here, motherfucker!” The guard shook his head. He hated this neighborhood with all of its crackheads and drunks. He was much happier doing collections for the old man and cursed himself for his stupidity to come and work for his son.