FORTY-SIX
They parked the car and got out, tense, checking every direction, guns concealed under their jackets. Mikhail didn’t want any unexpected faces raising questioning brows. He studied the front of the house, the old door replaced with a new one, solid, strong and secure. Nobody was going to put a shoulder against it and break inside ever again.
He knew, however, something wasn’t right.
Ivan was not at the window and Mikhail rubbed his chin, uncertain, nervous. His hand slipped inside his jacket. “Go around the back, Sergei.”
Sergei came up to the big man’s shoulder and craned his neck to stare at him. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. A feeling. Ivan is not watching the street as I ordered him to. It could be nothing, but go around the back and check the sheds. I want to know ever
