CHAPTER 17
VIKING
The vultures were waiting. Kristoff and Sokolov sat on lawn chairs to his right, sharing a drink and a cigar. Scattered around them were both Sokolov’s men and their own, all eager to watch the upcoming brawl. In the old days, they’d make him run the gauntlet for breaking a blood vow. He should be thankful he still had a chance to see another day.
The women weren’t there, but most likely were watching through the curtains. He could feel Annika’s vengeful eyes on his back. Word had gotten to him she had personally demanded retribution for the slight against her. He got that. She was a Russian mob princess after all, and had her pride. Apparently, she had even shed a tear or two. Her crocodile tears didn’t fool him. She was a blood-thirsty b***h whose pride he’d offended
