XANDER
Three hours later, I walk across the bridge and into the basement. The table has been pushed up against the wall, and the men crowd around, most of them smoking, all suited and holstered, their firearms right in the open.
The room falls quiet with my entrance, and I take a chair at the head, placing my g*n within easy reach.
"Good evening, boss." Ryder's voice has my gaze swinging to him.
"Evening, Ryder. What's the news today?"
"Not much happening. The streets have been quiet all evening. We're thinking something happened, or they've backed up."
Carl cuts in. "For now, boss. We can't believe they're gone for good."
And we can't be lulled into a false sense of security. It's impossible they're gone just like that. The Russians are sly, and they have the money to throw around.
