Chapter 6 - The Fixer's Final Play

Julian Cross was sweating through his designer suit.
He was in the underground garage, frantically trying to hotwire one of Roman’s armored SUVs. The plan had fallen apart the second that stupid little maid's daughter had swung the poker.
He needed to get out. He needed to disappear before the Volkovs realized he had failed, and before Roman found him.
The engine roared to life. Julian let out a breathless laugh of relief. He threw the car into reverse.
CRASH.
The rear window of the SUV shattered instantly as a heavy, steel-toed boot kicked through the glass.
Julian screamed, slamming on the brakes.
Roman Sokolov wrenched the driver’s side door open, grabbed Julian by the collar of his suit, and hurled him onto the concrete floor of the garage.
Julian scrambled backward, coughing up blood, his hands raised in surrender. "Roman! Roman, wait! I can explain! She made me do it! The Volkovs had a hit out on my family!"
"You don't have a family, Julian," Roman said, his boots clicking slowly against the concrete as he advanced. "You have debts in Vegas. You sold my life to clear your ledger."
"I can give you their codes!" Julian begged, backing up against a concrete pillar. "I know how they communicate! I know where the Volkov patriarch is hiding! Spare me, and I'll give you everything!"
Roman stopped. He looked at the man who had been his right hand for ten years. A man who had eaten at his table, drank his expensive scotch, and plotted to murder him on his wedding day.
"You already gave me everything I needed to know, Julian," Roman said softly.
Roman raised his weapon.
"Roman, please—"
Bang.
The echo of the gunshot rang through the underground garage, followed by absolute silence. Roman didn't even check the body. He holstered his weapon and pressed his earpiece.
"Yuri. Status."
May you like
"Perimeter secure, Boss," Yuri panted over the comms. "We wiped out the Volkov strike team. Chicago Police are on their way, but we bought off the captain. He’ll give us an hour to clean up."
"Good," Roman said. "Send a cleanup crew to the garage. Then, bring the girl to my office."