Cassidy didn’t even try to talk Pantera down. There may even have been a slight smile across her lips as she confronted the bald man.
The older thief struck her like a hammer, his attack lacking any sense of craft. He just wanted to get her out of the way and find freedom, bulldoze his way to victory. Bodie saw Cassidy skip aside and grab Pantera’s right arm. He flew one full rotation on his journey to the ground, landing hard on his spine.
He didn’t groan, just kicked his feet.
“Stay down,” Cassidy warned.
“Bastards,” Pantera fumed.
Bodie rose. “You seriously think you can fight your way out of here? You’re not even better than me, mate, never mind Cassidy here.”
Pantera made a noise and then Bodie realized, with profound shock, that the man was crying. His face was red, crumpled. Nevertheless, he rose and ran for the door. Cassidy moved fast, planting a foot in his spine and altering his trajectory.
Straight into the doorjamb.
Pantera bounced off the wooden frame with a crunch that made even Bodie wince. A streak of blood marked the impact. Pantera fell to his knees. Bodie moved to stand over him.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Bodie knelt at Pantera’s side, took hold of his face, and turned it until they stared eye to eye.
“What’s the deal, Jack? You sold me out. Left me to die. A Mexican prison? Betrayal? European assassins?”
Pantera struggled. “I didn’t send anyone to kill you. They said it would be a tough year in prison. That was all.”
Bodie spluttered a little. A tough year? That was some understatement.
“Fucksake,” Cassidy echoed his thoughts. “That’s harsh.”
“Who said that, Jack?” Bodie asked.
“They did. The people watching the house. Did you see anyone else watching?” Pantera hissed. “When you came here? Did you?”
“There’s nobody else out there, Jack.”
“Are you positive?”
“Not entirely.” Cassidy shrugged. “But if there is, we can deal with them easily enough when they arrive.”
Pantera closed his eyes. “You don’t understand.”
“Dude, we’ve been saying that since we first saw your ass. Literally. So why not enlighten us?”
Pantera couldn’t stop crying, it seemed. Bodie was trying very hard not to conceal his bewilderment. Through all the years of training, of comradeship, he’d never seen Jack so upset.
“You hate me, but it is them you should hate. I don’t hold anything against you, Guy. I have no strife with you. But they do, and they are very, very, seriously bad people.”
Bodie sat back, shaking his head slightly. “You’re making no sense at all, pal.”
“The watchers. They watch for you.”
Bodie ignored a shiver. “Mate, I’m gonna slap you so hard if you don’t start talking sense.”
“These people.” Pantera looked like he feared speaking their name. “They are seriously evil. No morals. No compassion. Not even the slightest sense of consideration or family unless it is for themselves, where it is absolute. They are brothers,” he whispered. “They are Bratva.”
Bodie took a moment to process what Pantera had said. “Russians?” he asked, even more confused. “You mean the Russian Bratva? Gangsters, thugs, that kind of thing?”
Pantera nodded slowly.
“Sorry, mate, I’m not buying it. Those people would never have scared a man like you.”
“You really pissed them off, Guy. You and your band of”—he glanced at Cassidy—“brothers.”
She clucked her tongue. “I know what you wanted to say there. You wanted to say ‘bitches.’ Well, don’t worry yourself. I am a bitch, happy to be, and a good one at that.”
“You pissed them off,” Pantera reiterated. “You stole something from them after we parted ways. Some bloody artifact that belonged to the old man. Apparently, he suffered a heart attack three days later and died.”
Bodie frowned hard. The cause of the heart attack wouldn’t matter to these people. They would only see the circumstances surrounding it. He knew of the Bratva — that they were a close-knit, ruthless organization founded in Moscow and part of the Russian Mafia. They were well organized and incredibly far-reaching.
“They’re the real deal,” Cassidy said.
“Yeah, I know. And you’re saying we stole from them?”
“Not just that. They know you stole a priceless sentimental statue from them,” Pantera said. “When the old man died they made it their business to track down the person who employed you. When they finished with him and his family”—Jack gulped—“they tracked me just because I was your old boss. They couldn’t find you at the time, so they came straight to my door.”
“But we broke up our partnership.”
“You think they care that I agreed to let you follow your own path? That we parted on the best of terms? That I was actually proud to see you leading your own team? They don’t care about that shit.”
Bodie looked toward the bare window. “What… and now they watch in case I drop by for a coffee?”
“You’re a fucking idiot, Bodie, you know that?”
“If I’m understanding this right, you gave me to them in order to save your own skin. You put me inside that jail and let them know I was there. It was Bratva that attacked me inside…” He remembered their appearance, their tattoos. It seemed a lifetime ago now. “Makes sense.”
“The Bratva entered a Mexican cartel — run prison?” Cassidy wondered.
“They have ties,” Bodie said. “They do business. These real-life crime syndicates are plugged in everywhere, and with each other.”
“So they threatened your ass and you ran squealing to protect it?” Cassidy stared at Pantera. “Man, I thought you were better than that. More than that.”
“No, no, no.” Pantera shook his head wearily. “Is it that hard to understand? Here…” He crawled over to a wooden chest, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a plastic folder and a small flashlight.
He opened the folder, spread the contents onto the floor and flicked on the flashlight.
Bodie blanched as reality hit home. “Shit.”
Over a dozen Polaroid photographs showed a woman and a young boy: eating cereal at a breakfast bar, driving to school, and, in one case, even lying asleep in their beds.
“This is your family?” Cassidy asked, knowing the answer already.
“How long?” Bodie asked.
“Six months maybe?” Pantera shrugged. “Sometime before the Mexican prison. They send me more every month.”
“And are they just watching?” Bodie asked. “Or…”
“No. Just watching. Endlessly watching. Both my wife, Steph, and my son, Eric. And me, I guess.”
Bodie read between the lines. The Bratva saw Pantera as their best route to getting close to his entire team. Their modus operandi was heavy threat and extreme coercion. Family was the weakness, and ruthless criminals would always exploit it if they could. Somehow, then, they had found a way to Pantera’s family.
“You lost your edge.”
Pantera shrugged. “Yeah, happily. I quit three years ago. After you left, the whole bloody vision lost its edge. Felt hollow, somehow. I took excessive precautions when I quit. I never thought someone on this scale would come hunting. But I guess we never kept our alliance a secret. People knew.”