“I bit back on the words: he knew it already, didn’t need me criticizing him in front of his own people. “It’s okay,” I said. “Just a nick. But I can help you tighten things up, yes? I’m more than just an ugly bastard who can hit people.” A pause, then a grin split Markov’s face and he laughed. He came over, clapped me on my good arm, and said, “I like you, Lee. We get on, yes? You get fixed up. You have fun in the club, yes? Girls, boys, whatever it is you like.” “That kid,” I said. “Who was he...? Who were the ones in the car?” He was clearly not operating alone. My guess was it was a deliberate ploy: send in a kid who looks like he’s fresh off the street, get him to suss the place out, push a few buttons and see how Markov’s crew responded. All the classic signs of a rival gang moving in on Markov’s territory. Now Markov’s face changed again, as if a dark curtain had been snapped across it. “I do not know,” he said. “Truly.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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