A nice poker game was just getting good, the air filled with laughter and cigar smoke. Toris put down his bet. Yuri folded. Aleksei did, too, and Toris laughed. He raised his eyebrows at Eduard.
They never got to find out Eduard's move. The door slammed open and Ivan stormed into the room like a hurricane, flinging the table aside with one swipe of his hand. Chips and cards and alcohol went flying. The men scattered with shouts of alarm.
“Boss!” Raivis yelped, especially worried as he had long ago been forbidden from joining in on the adults' games. He trembled when Ivan's horrifying gaze fell on him, but it quickly passed him over to take in everyone else.
“Someone has kidnapped Alfred,” Ivan said, voice deadly quiet. “My bets are on the Italians, but we don't know for sure.”
“Oh no,” Toris gasped.
“I want you to find out for sure. I want you to find him. The police are working on it, but we all know how competent they are...” The men smiled slightly and nodded, and Ivan's glare intensified. “Go!”
They bolted, tripping over each other in their haste to get away. All but one, who stood his ground and stared nervously at his feet.
“You do not wish to go, Aleksei?” Ivan had never liked the man.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah... well, boss, it's just that... you don't need all of us, do you? There's other things that need to be done besides looking for the kid...”
Ivan smiled at him. “You're right, of course.”
“You think so?”
“I do. He's only one person, yes?”
Aleksei nodded, looking relieved.
“So you continue with your gaming, and whatever other important business you have.”
“Boss?”
Ivan's smile never wavered as he pulled a gun out, taking aim at the terrified man. Aleksei had probably never moved so fast in his life, scrambling toward the door. Ivan didn't even especially care if he hit or not when he fired, and the bullet slammed into the wall where Aleksei's head had been an instant before.
“I missed,” Ivan sighed. He glanced toward the men who had returned to investigate. “Oh well. Does anyone else have anything better to do?”
Nobody did.
-----
Alfred wondered how much time had passed. There was no way of knowing, in an unlit basement with no windows. His foot itched, but he was thoroughly tied to a chair and couldn't do much about that. He was hungry, but hadn't seen anybody since they had first tied him up and left. He was still sore from the initial attack. What did those nice-seeming brothers want with him? Money, he figured. It had to be about money. Access to Ivan's money was the only thing Alfred had that anyone would want!
Ivan... he must be so worried. And Mattie. Alfred felt a twinge of guilt, knowing they were upset because of him. The kidnappers had looked so small and weak, how could they have overpowered him? Well, he had been holding his own pretty well, until their larger blond friend had joined in.
When the doorway finally creaked open, Alfred wasn't sure whether to be more worried or relieved. He swallowed and assured himself that he was not at all afraid at the sound of footsteps descending the stairs.
Relief overpowered worry at the smell of food. Good smelling food. He had no idea how long it had been since he last had something to eat, but it felt like days, though he knew that couldn't be right.
A bare bulb hanging from the ceiling was clicked on, and Alfred winced at the sudden onslaught of light. Standing before him was one of the brothers, the one with the squint. He was holding a plate of spaghetti.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said. He had an accent, but Alfred had never been good at placing accents. Spanish? “Do you like spaghetti, Mr. Jones? Can I call you Alfred?”
“You kidnapped me and tied me up,” Alfred muttered. “You can probably do what you like.”
“Sorry...” The possibly Spanish young man (he couldn't have been much older than Alfred!) set the steaming plate aside and untied Alfred's arms. He plunked the plate down by Alfred, watching almost expectantly.
Bratva 20a/??
They never got to find out Eduard's move. The door slammed open and Ivan stormed into the room like a hurricane, flinging the table aside with one swipe of his hand. Chips and cards and alcohol went flying. The men scattered with shouts of alarm.
“Boss!” Raivis yelped, especially worried as he had long ago been forbidden from joining in on the adults' games. He trembled when Ivan's horrifying gaze fell on him, but it quickly passed him over to take in everyone else.
“Someone has kidnapped Alfred,” Ivan said, voice deadly quiet. “My bets are on the Italians, but we don't know for sure.”
“Oh no,” Toris gasped.
“I want you to find out for sure. I want you to find him. The police are working on it, but we all know how competent they are...” The men smiled slightly and nodded, and Ivan's glare intensified. “Go!”
They bolted, tripping over each other in their haste to get away. All but one, who stood his ground and stared nervously at his feet.
“You do not wish to go, Aleksei?” Ivan had never liked the man.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah... well, boss, it's just that... you don't need all of us, do you? There's other things that need to be done besides looking for the kid...”
Ivan smiled at him. “You're right, of course.”
“You think so?”
“I do. He's only one person, yes?”
Aleksei nodded, looking relieved.
“So you continue with your gaming, and whatever other important business you have.”
“Boss?”
Ivan's smile never wavered as he pulled a gun out, taking aim at the terrified man. Aleksei had probably never moved so fast in his life, scrambling toward the door. Ivan didn't even especially care if he hit or not when he fired, and the bullet slammed into the wall where Aleksei's head had been an instant before.
“I missed,” Ivan sighed. He glanced toward the men who had returned to investigate. “Oh well. Does anyone else have anything better to do?”
Nobody did.
-----
Alfred wondered how much time had passed. There was no way of knowing, in an unlit basement with no windows. His foot itched, but he was thoroughly tied to a chair and couldn't do much about that. He was hungry, but hadn't seen anybody since they had first tied him up and left. He was still sore from the initial attack. What did those nice-seeming brothers want with him? Money, he figured. It had to be about money. Access to Ivan's money was the only thing Alfred had that anyone would want!
Ivan... he must be so worried. And Mattie. Alfred felt a twinge of guilt, knowing they were upset because of him. The kidnappers had looked so small and weak, how could they have overpowered him? Well, he had been holding his own pretty well, until their larger blond friend had joined in.
When the doorway finally creaked open, Alfred wasn't sure whether to be more worried or relieved. He swallowed and assured himself that he was not at all afraid at the sound of footsteps descending the stairs.
Relief overpowered worry at the smell of food. Good smelling food. He had no idea how long it had been since he last had something to eat, but it felt like days, though he knew that couldn't be right.
A bare bulb hanging from the ceiling was clicked on, and Alfred winced at the sudden onslaught of light. Standing before him was one of the brothers, the one with the squint. He was holding a plate of spaghetti.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said. He had an accent, but Alfred had never been good at placing accents. Spanish? “Do you like spaghetti, Mr. Jones? Can I call you Alfred?”
“You kidnapped me and tied me up,” Alfred muttered. “You can probably do what you like.”
“Sorry...” The possibly Spanish young man (he couldn't have been much older than Alfred!) set the steaming plate aside and untied Alfred's arms. He plunked the plate down by Alfred, watching almost expectantly.