Russian Mobster's Forbidden Mistress by Bella Rose Page B

the engine, the SUV leaping forward and practically going airborne as they travelled deeper into the city. The Mikalevich family owned six warehouses down here. All were ancient structures in areas that had almost no police presence. It was handy for doing business, less so when Josef was beginning to believe there was something sinister going on that had nothing to do with a rival family or run-of-the-mill thieves.
    Mikhail squealed the tires around a corner and then slammed on the brakes to park on the curb outside one of their oldest buildings. Josef glanced over at his friend. Mikhail’s face was set in hard lines.
    “Are you all right?” Josef asked in softly spoken Russian.
    Mikhail didn’t answer. He got out of the vehicle instead. He headed directly for the door. Josef jumped out and pulled his sidearm from beneath his jacket. His longer strides quickly caught up with Mikhail.
    “Wait.” Josef held out an arm. “Let me see if it’s safe before you go charging in there.”
    “Good Josef,” Mikhail murmured, his tone strangely flat. “Always looking after me.”
    Josef didn’t comment. Perhaps his guilt wouldn’t allow it. In any case, he sniffed around. There was an odd smell—pungent, like turpentine. “Are they painting in there?” He identified something stronger. “It smells like a fuel leak.”
    “Perhaps someone is trying to sabotage us?” Mikhail suggested.
    Josef nudged the door open. “It’s not even locked.”
    Mikhail didn’t say anything. That struck Josef as strange, but he was too focused on any potential threats in the warehouse to worry about it now. It was dark inside. The concrete floor was cold. He could feel the chill through the soles of his shoes. It smelled dank, and there was an odd spatial distortion inside. It felt as though the warehouse were empty.
    “Mikhail, hit the lights.” Josef waited, but there was no response from his friend. “Mikhail?”
    There was no answer. Josef turned, but the doorway was empty. Mikhail seemed to have vanished. Josef shrank back into the darkness, trying to see if there was someone else in the entryway. Could there be a threat that had followed them here, just waiting for them to wander inside the darkness?
    Something clattered to the floor about twenty yards to Josef’s left. He spun on his heel, peering into the inky black interior of the building. His eyes finally began to adjust. He could make out tall, thin shapes. They were shelves, but they were empty. He couldn’t see the outline of crates or any other cargo or goods in the echoing space.
    His neck began to prickle. Someone was watching him. He could feel it. His breathing quickened and he struggled to stay silent in the room that seemed to be closing in on him. Backing toward the wall, he kept his weapon ready and hoped he would not have to shoot into the darkness.
    There was another noise off to his right, then the sound of a man grunting in pain. “Mikhail?” Josef called out, not caring whether or not he gave away his position. He needed to know that his friend was all right. “Mikhail, where are you?”
    The scent of fuel grew stronger. Josef heard the sound of liquid pouring onto a bare cement floor. The wet noise seemed to permeate the darkness. He blinked, trying to pinpoint the location of the noise, of the grunt, of anything .
    “Who is here?” he demanded, putting authority in his voice. “Show yourself!”
    “No, I don’t think I will.”
    The voice was familiar, with just a hint of a Russian accent. Josef frowned. “What’s going on here? Show yourself! What have you done with Mikhail?”
    “Oh he’s safe enough.” There was a snicker. “This wasn’t meant for him, Josef.”
    “What?” Josef’s heart hammered against his ribs. Then he felt someone right behind him. He spun, but it was too late.
    A blinding light accompanied the sharpness of pain against his skull. Then he fell and all was silent.
     

Chapter Twelve
     
     
    “Where is Josef?”