Wrench & Blood

The Return

Blackhaven looked different from the window of a rented sedan.

Adam had been gone three weeks. Three weeks of desert heat, cheap tequila, and nights spent staring at hotel ceilings. Three weeks of wondering if he’d made the right choice letting Harmon live.

Sandra drove. She hadn’t asked where they were going. She just pointed the car north and kept driving until the desert turned to farmland and the farmland turned to suburbs and the suburbs turned to the familiar gray sprawl of Blackhaven.

“Home,” she said.

“Is it?” Adam asked.

“It’s where we live.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

She pulled into the Iron District. The streets were the same. The boarded windows, the graffiti, the abandoned cars on cinder blocks. But something felt different. Quieter. Emptier.

“Where is everyone?” Adam asked.

“It’s noon on a Tuesday. People are at work.”

“People in Iron District don’t work. They hustle.”

Sandra didn’t argue. She parked outside Adam’s apartment—the one above the laundromat. The door was still locked. The windows were still intact. No signs of forced entry.

“I’ll check inside,” Adam said. “Wait here.”

“I’m not waiting in the car like a hostage.”

“Then wait on the sidewalk. But stay where I can see you.”

She crossed her arms but didn’t follow him up the stairs.

---

The apartment was exactly how Adam had left it.

The bed was unmade. Dishes in the sink. A half-empty bottle of whiskey on the counter. He walked through each room, checking corners, checking windows, checking the closet.

Nothing.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands.

Three weeks. He’d driven to Mexico, found Harmon, looked him in the eye, and walked away. He’d told himself it was mercy. That killing Harmon wouldn’t bring Danny back. That he was tired of being a killer.

But sitting in his dark apartment, surrounded by the silence of a life he didn’t want, he wondered if he’d just been a coward.

“Adam?” Sandra’s voice from the street. “You need to see this.”

He walked to the window.

A black SUV was parked across the street. Tinted windows. Running engine. No plates.

“Get inside,” Adam said.

“What?”

“Get inside now.”

Sandra ran up the stairs. Adam pulled his gun from the nightstand—an old Glock he’d kept for emergencies. He stood by the window, watching the SUV.

The driver’s door opened.

A man got out. Tall, thin, dressed in a leather jacket. His face was partially hidden by sunglasses, but Adam recognized the walk. The way he carried himself. The slight limp.

“Micheal?”

The man pulled off his sunglasses.

It was Micheal Vance. But not the Micheal Adam remembered. This Micheal was clean-shaven, his hair cut short, his face less scarred. He looked almost... healthy.

“Adam! Get down here!” Micheal called up.

Adam lowered the gun. He walked downstairs, Sandra behind him.

They met on the sidewalk.

Micheal hugged him. It was awkward, brief, but genuine.

“You look like s**t,” Micheal said.

“You look like a new man.”

“Oregon will do that. Fresh air. Seafood. No one trying to kill you.” He looked at Sandra. “You must be the one keeping him alive.”

“Someone has to,” she said.

Micheal gestured to the SUV. “Get in. We need to talk.”

---

They drove to The Rust Nail.

The bar was closed. Mags, the old owner, had retired. A for sale sign hung in the window. But the back door was unlocked, and the lights were on.

Inside, sitting at a table in the corner, were two people Adam didn’t expect.

Vince and Leo.

Vince looked older. His hair had more gray, his face more lines. He was drinking a beer, his good hand wrapped around the bottle. His other arm—the one that had been wounded at Warehouse 17—hung useless at his side.

Leo looked like a different person. He’d gained weight. His skin had color. He wore a college sweatshirt—University of Chicago.

“You came back,” Adam said.

“We never left,” Vince said. “We just been lying low.”

“Why?”

“Because after Cindy went away, someone else stepped up.”

Adam sat down. Sandra sat next to him. Micheal took a seat across the table.

“Who?” Adam asked.

“A man named Dmitri Volkov. He was one of Cindy’s cartel contacts. After she got arrested, he saw an opening. He’s been consolidating power for months. Buying up territory. Recruiting soldiers. He’s got half the Docks under his control now.”

“And the other half?”

“The other half belongs to the Serpents. But they’re weak. Cindy’s arrest gutted their leadership. They’re fighting a civil war between three different factions.”

“What about the Iron Hands? The Vipers?”

“Volkov bought them off. Paid their leaders to stand down. They’re neutral now. For a price.”

Adam leaned back. “How do you know all this?”

“Because I’ve been watching,” Leo said. “I kept access to the traffic cameras. Kept listening to police scanners. I saw it happening in real time.”

“And you didn’t call me?”

“You were in Mexico. Doing whatever you were doing. We didn’t want to drag you back into this.”

“But you’re dragging me back now.”

Micheal spoke up. “Because Volkov knows about you. He knows about the ledger. He knows about what you did to Cindy and Cross. And he wants to meet.”

“Meet? Why?”

“He wants to make a deal. He says he’s not like Cindy. He says he doesn’t do trafficking. Just drugs and weapons.”

“And you believe him?”

“No. But I believe he’s dangerous. And I believe he’s not someone we can ignore.”

---

Adam walked to the bar. He poured himself a whiskey—Mags’ old stock, still there, still good.

“What kind of deal?”

“He wants you to work for him. As an enforcer. He says someone with your reputation would be useful.”

“I’m not an enforcer.”

“He doesn’t care what you call yourself. He cares what you can do.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then he’ll come after you. Not because he wants to. Because he has to. You’re a loose end. A symbol of resistance. As long as you’re alive and free, people will look at you and think Cindy can be beaten. Volkov can’t have that.”

Adam drank the whiskey in one gulp.

“When does he want to meet?”

“Tonight. At Warehouse 14.”

“Of course.” Adam set the glass down. “Does he know I’m back?”

“He knows everything. He has people everywhere.”

“Then I’ll meet him.”

Sandra stood up. “No. You’re not doing this again.”

“Sandra—”

“You said you were done. You said you were tired of being a killer. You walked away from Harmon because you wanted a different life. Now you’re going to walk into another warehouse and make another deal with another monster?”

“I’m not making a deal. I’m finding out what he wants.”

“That’s how it starts. Every time.”

Adam looked at her. She was scared. Not for herself. For him.

“I’ll be careful.”

“You’re never careful.”

“I will this time.”

---

The sun set over Blackhaven.

Adam stood outside Warehouse 14 for the third time in his life. The building had been repaired again—new windows, fresh paint, a new lock on the door. Someone was investing in the place.

Micheal stood beside him. Sandra was in the car with Leo. Vince was covering the back entrance.

“You don’t have to do this,” Micheal said.

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

“Because if I don’t, he’ll keep coming. He’ll keep building. And eventually, he’ll be worse than Cindy.”

“Or you could leave. Go to Oregon with me. Work on the boat.”

“I don’t know how to fish.”

“Neither did I. You learn.”

Adam almost smiled. “Maybe after.”

He pushed open the door.

---

The inside of Warehouse 14 had been transformed.

Gone were the shipping containers and concrete floors. Now there were rugs, furniture, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It looked like a hotel lobby, not a crime den.

In the center of the room, sitting on a leather couch, was a man Adam didn’t recognize.

Dmitri Volkov was in his forties, with a shaved head and a thick beard. He wore a black suit, no tie. His hands were large, his knuckles scarred. He looked like a man who had done his own dirty work before hiring others to do it.

“Adam Kosta,” Volkov said. His accent was Eastern European, thick but understandable. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

“Sit. Please.” Volkov gestured to a chair across from him.

Adam sat.

“You’re wondering why I asked you here.”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

“I’ll be direct. I want you to work for me. Not as a soldier. As a partner. I have the money. I have the connections. But I don’t have the reputation. You do. People in this city respect you. They fear you. That’s valuable.”

“I’m not for sale.”

“Everyone is for sale. You just haven’t heard the right price.” Volkov reached into his jacket. Adam tensed. But Volkov only pulled out a photograph.

He slid it across the table.

It was a picture of Lena. Adam’s aunt. Sitting in her diner, reading a newspaper.

“Your aunt,” Volkov said. “A good woman. Hard worker. She misses you.”

Adam’s blood ran cold. “If you touch her—”

“I won’t. Not if we have an agreement. But if we don’t...” Volkov shrugged. “Accidents happen. Blackhaven is a dangerous city.”

“You’re threatening my family.”

“I’m making a point. You have things you care about. I have things I care about. We can protect each other’s things. Or we can destroy them. The choice is yours.”

Adam stood up. “I’m not working for you.”

“Then your aunt dies. Your friends die. Everyone you’ve ever loved dies. And then, finally, you die.” Volkov smiled. “I’m not Cindy. I don’t make idle threats. I have people in place. People you’ll never see coming.”

“You’re a monster.”

“No. I’m a businessman. Cindy was a monster. She enjoyed the suffering. I don’t. I just want to make money. And you’re standing in the way of that.”

Adam stared at him.

He could kill Volkov right now. Pull his gun, put a bullet in his head. But Volkov’s men would kill him. And then they’d kill Lena. And Sandra. And everyone else.

“I need time to think,” Adam said.

“You have forty-eight hours. Then I make my decision for you.”

Volkov stood up and walked toward the back of the warehouse. His men followed.

Adam stood alone in the middle of the room, surrounded by rugs and chandeliers, his hands shaking.

---

Outside, the night was cold.

Micheal was waiting by the car. “Well?”

“He threatened Lena.”

“Then we kill him.”

“We can’t. He has people everywhere. If he dies, they’ll retaliate.”

“Then what do we do?”

Adam looked up at the sky. The stars were hidden behind clouds. No moon. No light.

“We find his people first. And we make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

“What kind of offer?”

“The kind that leaves Volkov alone.”