Looks like he’s trying to make a statement by only bringing two men with him. The slimy bastard usually has at least five guys in tow, which isn’t that strange given he would need several people to cover his enormous frame if s**t did hit the fan. He’s almost as large as Igor, Roman’s cook, and that’s not an easy accomplishment.
They see me and head toward the booth. It’s only then do I notice a girl Shevchenko has with him. The bastard definitely likes them young. The girl can’t be more than eighteen.
The bodyguards climb the two steps to the booth first and stand aside. Shevchenko follows, dragging the poor girl with him.
“Belov.” He nods and takes the seat, pulling the girl to sit on his lap.
“You’re late,” I say, keeping my focus on the girl. I was wrong, she can’t be more than six
