Retribution Read Free

and Chechen
besides French and English and a few others. As for his men, that
was pride speaking. He’d sized them up when he came in. They were
typical Russian mercenaries, brutal war formed men, trained in the
field, so they lacked the discipline he had—and the brains. They
were what he, and others of his expertise, referred to them as;
meatheads. They were easy to find in the war torn country, in
abundance, and therefore easy to replace, because well, they
were—easy to kill.
    After another few minutes
Peter shut the file, folded his hands together on top of the desk
and met Ryan’s eyes, “I like what I see.”
    Of course you
do . “Good.” Ryan said confidently. He knew
for a fact that none of the men that Peter employed had anything
near his talents or his references. They were mere mercenaries, big
and brainless, but loyal, and although Ryan was fronting as one, he
was better. He was intelligent and tactical. He was trained by men
that were a dying breed, put through trials of extreme survival and
discipline.
    “There’s something I did
not see in your file. Have you ever protected a woman?”
    “No. Not long term. Just
rescue and recovery.” How hard could it
be?
    Again, the barely
discernable smile. “What’s your rate?” he said, finally getting to
the point.
    “Five thousand a week.”
Peter didn’t even bat an eye at Ryan’s price. Again, no shock
there.
    Then, slowly, Peter let an
expression reach his hard face, but it wasn’t surprise. It was
amusement. “Well, I’d throw you out of here if you weren’t such a
hard find and your reputation speaks volumes.” He sat back in his
seat, opened a drawer on his right, and took out a stack of banded
bills tossing it on the desk in front of him. “That’s the first
month.”
    Ryan glanced at the stack
of money then back to the other man, “I never said I’d take the
job, Mr. Nickolov.” His voice was even and self-assured, like
everything else about him.
    “You don’t have a choice.”
He reached in the drawer and pulled out another stack, flapping it
back and forth, “I just upped your salary to thirty thousand a
month. You belong to me now.” He tossed it next to the other one.
“And if you don’t take the job—” he leaned forward in his seat
making eye contact “—I’ll have you killed. That’s how much I need
you.”
    The man wasn’t kidding.
There was no sense of humor in that cold soulless stare. Ryan
actually smiled arrogantly not the least bit frightened. Peter
thought that anyone could be bought with money or intimidated. It
was never even a consideration that Ryan wasn’t there for that
reason. It would be his downfall. Conceited prick, he thought to
himself.
    The other man shrugged
thinking he knew what that smile meant. He didn’t have a man that
matched Ryan’s talent so he wouldn’t be an easy man to kill. “Or I
can try,” he said finally smiling coldly. “Anyway, it’s important
to me. I’ve already lost one daughter. I can’t lose the other.
She’s all I have left.” His expression pinched at the memory. He
abruptly stood up and walked to the window folding his hands behind
his broad back and looking out at nothing in particular. “This is a
fucked up world Mr. Casey. I’ve done some horrid things in my life
and I don’t want my daughter to pay for it again.” He turned around
and looked at him. “I don’t trust you. I don’t trust anyone, so
don’t take it personally.” He nodded toward the stack of money that
Ryan had yet to touch, “but I trust money. That will make you
loyal.” Peter already knew that Ryan liked money because he was
wearing a three thousand dollar suit. That was the reason he upped
his salary. He considered himself quite observant. He didn’t come
from a poor one bedroom home in Chechnya to being rich by being
stupid. “I would consider this a personal favor.” He said that last
bit as if Ryan had a lot to gain from a favor.
    Ryan already knew he was
going to take the