His car isn’t parked outside and I can’t see into the garage, so I knock and wait. Then I knock again.
Alek being M.I.A. is bad, considering no one except for me and my father is more dedicated to Bratva business than Alek. My gut says something isn’t right.
But I don’t have any other leads.
Until, suddenly, I remember the apartment he keeps on Long Island. We used to crash there when we were younger and still doing trips ourselves to transport guns and drugs out of the city. I remember him telling me that he keeps meaning to get around to selling it, but never has time.
With no better options, I get back in my car and make the drive there.
When I arrive, I take the stairs because I still need to work off some of the excess s****l energy from torturing myself and letting Corrie tortur
