”“Let me worry about your brother.”“You don’t know Clyde. Let me go and I’ll forget this ever happened.”“Molly’s son. Where is he?�...Bufford struggled against the bindings, pulling at the ones around his wrists, twisting his hands. He rolled onto his back and kicked his tied feet. Steele raised his hand and threw the knife. Bufford froze. His eyes opened wide. The knife stuck in the floor between his legs. Between thighs only a few inches apart. He dug his chin into his chest and saw the knife. With urgency in their footsteps, they bolted for the car, shouting at each other, and yet, as the blonde Russian named Dmitri came closer and closer to the car, his stomach rolled over in dread at the sight of who was behind the wheel. ‘Take him upstairs to the doctor!’ Dmitri shouted to the men as they rushed passed him, ripping open the passenger door before pulling Mikhail’s unconscious body out with urgent care. He could only watch as the group of foot soldiers carefully carried Mikhail. More

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