Tad lay back against the cushions of his out of date sofa, his cell dropping heavily into his lap but sliding limply against the slick fabric of his black track pants. Why he'd just made that call to Tucker he didn't know. He cared for the blond...in his own way...and most of time time--always
--Tadeas felt that people had the right to make their own choices, good or bad. If it made him money so much the better. For some reason though, while he'd been sitting watching ridiculous British television, Jill had entered his thoughts and the thoughts weren't good. She hadn't been herself the last time she'd visited, hadn't looked
like herself or sounded
Tad had decided to cut her off.
She'd be pissed--da, da, more than pissed. The Russian expected to have his cell filled with angry tirades from the blond by the end of the week, not the usual begging requests he sometimes received from cocksucking junkies who couldn't pay. Nyet, not his Tucker. Tad expected her to be warlike. He sighed and rubbed his face with his free hand, dragging his palm over his light stubble and digging his finger and thumb into the corners of his eyes. Without looking he dialed up another number. He still felt tired, had been feeling tired for a while now, but Tad was getting sick of the four walls that surrounded him, of only communicating with his fellow dealers and the assholes that bought his product. He wanted--
"Jacob! Dobryĭ vecher! Where the fuck have you been, comrade? You get pussy and then I never see you!" He laughed but it wasn't nearly with the sort of lecherous tone Tad was known for. "Ei, this is good time to get our boys together. Why don't you see if Victor and Jack have finished playing angry married couple and then we can have poker night. Like we used to. I thought--" Tad cut himself off, covering what could have been an emotional spill with a cough. But then there was a pause and he knew he'd have to say something else or just hang up on the American. "Is good talking with you." And on that awkward note he did indeed end the call, his cell once again falling into his lap.
His crowded apartment smelled of cigarettes but without the usual acrid tinge of cocaine, no tell-tale signs of white streaks on his coffee table. There was half a glass of vodka in front of him, however Tad didn't think he wanted to finish it. He hadn't been sleeping well, his mind full of hideous things that he couldn't explain, and alcohol would just bring sleep closer. When the knock came his body jerked, as if a string connected to his gut had just been pulled. Ktoebet eto?
With the exception of Tucker none of his friends had ever been to his apartment, and that hadn't been a pleasure visit--the blond entering to find money to bail the Russian out of lockup. Could she have been in the area and received his message so quickly. Tadeas reached forward and downed a mouthful of the burning clear liquid. If Jill Tucker was here then he'd need the courage for what was to come; he wasn't selling her anymore pills.
The woman on the other side of the door wasn't
Jill Tucker. She was however one of the oldest looking women Tadeas could ever remember coming into contact with and why
the fuck this crone would be knocking on his door at this time of night--or ever!--was beyond understanding. Tadeas scratched his stomach through his faded red wifebeater and opened his door, ready ask a blunt question or two....when the compulsion to speak at all suddenly left him.
"I don't care for your voice Tadeas," Beatrice Martin
regarded him with a slight furrow between her brows. Though with the wrinkles who could tell. She spoke with one of those Western voices that told you nothing and her eyes were two of the coldest he had seen in some time. "Think calm thoughts and drop the phone. You're going for a ride and I'd rather you not have a heart attack just quite yet."
Unable to stop himself, unable to fight or even spend much time pondering why he wasn't
fighting the old witch, Tadeas locked up and followed Beatrice down to the street where a black van awaited. Contrary to her desires his heart was going a mile a minute as adrenaline spiked and dropped. What was happening here? Who was she? And where the fuck was she taking him?! Fuck fuck fuck!
It was those people again, wasn't it! Those Gardiner motherfuckers who had kidnapped himself and Maggie months ago! It was the only reason that made any sense at this point because even if Tad had been on Ivanov's bad side he doubted the bastard would send his grandmother to finish the job!
At Beatrice's command he entered the van and was forced to remain stock still while she brought out a needle filled with clear liquid.
"Please don't speak. I've had a rough night."
He felt the sharp sting of the insertion and then a sense of panic as a bag was brought over his head from behind. Chtoebatʹ proishodit? !!!
There wasn't much more time to think about it as in seconds Tadeas was unconscious, his body being speeded away to locations unknown.COMPLETE!