Karl
We stuck around for a few more hours at Club Hellfire, finalizing a few mundane details on the upcoming rally, and my signing off on a few perfectly legal items. When Jassy looked bored enough that she was about to cry, I grabbed her by the waist and led her out back to my bike. We hopped on and headed home.
The whole ride home, though, worry gnawed at my insides.
Aleksey Volkov wasn't the kind of man you robbed, or the kind of man you gladly wore a wire to meet with. Just walking into the Wolf's den, even at a place of my choosing, was like playing with matches while you were drowning in a pool full of gas. It was stupid, and liable to get you killed painfully in more ways than just one.
Pile on top of that Jassy's fixation on vengeance, and you had the makings of a danger gumbo.
