“Be ready for anything.”
“Church burial or cremation?”
Grayson stops five metres away from us, making the distance feel like an ocean. “Frankie.”
“Welcome back.”
“I see the weather is more true to form this time around.” He casts a dismissive look at the sky. The summer rain is still falling in a muted fashion, but the thunderstorm is picking up pace. “Santiago’s just finishing a call.” He turns to address Viper when a familiar, scarred face appears next to him.
“Maxim. What the hell are you doing in London?”
“I am here for an opportunity, Frankie.” The Russian nods at me, his heavy accent suffocating his words like oil on water. “Same as yourself. Ah, and vengeance,” he adds, with a deliberate smile. “Again, same as yourself.”
Maxim Lebedev is the most powerful Bratva pakhan in Europe. He’s also Aiden’s brother-in-law. He rarely leaves his sick wife’s side, which tells me he must have a stake in the outcome of this plan.
Interesting.
Just then, a dark shadow appears in the jet’s doorway as another streak of lightning races across the sky. Santiago pauses to slide his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and turn up the collar of his black shirt before he’s striding down the steps towards us, his face unsmiling, never flinching or faltering—even as another clap of thunder detonates above.
“Jesus.” I hear Viper mutter, and the sentiment resonates. Judging from the vibe Santiago’s giving off, any connection to God just left the building.
He slows to a stop next to Grayson and Lebedev and rakes his chilly dark gaze over my face. “Mr. Lastra.” It’s more a statement than a question. His accent is an all-American drawl, laced with the faintest flavour of Colombia.
“Señor Santiago,” I say, dipping my chin. “Welcome to London.”
The next thing I know, I’m staring down the barrel of his gun.
Fuck, that was fast.
“Do you know why we’re standing five metres away from you, Mr. Lastra?” he says casually, his face devoid of emotion. “It’s because when I give the order to one of my snipers to blow the back of your fucking head off, the spill radius of your blood and brain won’t make a mess of our boots.”
Straightening up to my full six-foot-four, I keep my tone even. “Do you always start business meetings with the threat of violence, señor, or is this a Colombian thing?”
A ghost of a smirk haunts the corners of his mouth, but his gun doesn’t waver. “You took out Guido Rossi against my wishes.”
“Like I told Grayson, I took out the rat and left the cats.”
“You nearly fucked up my plan.”
“If you’re here for an apology, you’ll be waiting a long time.” Holding his eye, I take a couple of steps forward until I hit the No-Man’s Land between us. “So, I guess that means you’ll be heading back home with dirty boots after all.”
Hold the fucking line, Frankie. Think of Ada. Think of your father dying in front of you. Think of your son.
“Are you testing me, Lastra?” His voice is like ice. “Don’t forget, it was my connections who got you out of jail. You were looking at a stretch of twenty-five-to-life. I authorised it because I had a purpose for you. Aiden Knight vouched for you—”
“Then you won’t want to kill me after going to all that trouble now, will you?”
“Ah, but you see I have this irritating character flaw.” He shakes his head at me slowly. “I like to change my mind in all things, except for the woman in my bed.” I watch his fingers flex around the grip. “Do I need to find another business partner in this city, or do you have something special for me that will make this bullet stay in its clip?”
There are pissing matches, and then there are pissing matches with this man.
“The casino you requested is fully operational. It reopens tonight.”
“What else?”
“There are some unhappy dealers all over London who want a regime change as much as we do. They want to work with us. They want to work with you.”
“Go on.”
I take another step towards him until the muzzle of his gun is making an indentation in my forehead. “Viper has contacts in every warehouse and whorehouse across London. He has people at Heathrow customs who can hide imports, including cargo planes with gold scorpion motifs on their fuselage. This isn't Miami, Santiago, this is London, our London. Mine and Viper’s, so if you’d like to make your business work here, I suggest you lower your fucking gun.”
A slight tilt of his head tells me he’s impressed. “And you? What do you bring to the table in particular?”
“I’m the fixer. The backroom boy that gets shit done. I make connections that benefit, and I cut loose the ones who disappoint with a bullet and a Christmas card to their relatives. See those casinos in Monaco that are cleaning your money so sweetly right now? I set up every single one of them for Aiden. There are cops at the Met I’m already blackmailing to behave and, hell, I haven’t even been here a fortnight. By the end of the month, I’ll have every influential politician in Westminster in my pocket.” I pause to let a slow smile stretch across my face. “And I don’t hesitate to kill... Ever.”
“Heard the Red Compass wiped out your whole family, including your ten-year-old sister.”
My smile falters. “It’s something I reminded Zaccaria of before I ripped his throat out.”
His dark eyes narrow to black points. “You talk a good game, Lastra, but are you a man I can trust?”
“How about you pull that trigger and never find out. Or in an hour we can be sitting around a blackjack table like good criminals and discussing bad things. Your choice.”
There’s a tense moment and then he’s holstering his gun.
A beat later, I’m aiming mine at him to surprised curses from Viper and Grayson as they scramble for their own weapons.
Santiago doesn’t move a muscle. It’s like I just pulled a water pistol on him.
Another thunderclap rumbles overhead.
“A wise man once told me that to play in hell it’s smart to have the Devil on your side, but it’s also a good idea to have his respect as well. You got me out of jail to do a job for you, Santiago, and I’m good with that. I’ll make you so much fucking money it’ll make your black heart sing, but in return I want your word that your men will help us destroy every faction of the Red Compass. I want my family’s Cosa Nostra cosca resurrected, the East End back under Razor’s control—”
“And Semenov’s wife back in your bed?”
Okay, now we’re dancing.
“Need I remind you that when a man has nothing, he has nothing to lose? If you screw me over and something happens to Ada, I will hunt you down to the ends of the fucking earth. She’s in hell right now, and you’re the one who’s keeping her there. Then again, I know how prolific this Brigăzi is. I’ve done my own homework. I want to smash this ring as much as you do. And so will Ada once she learns the real reason why she’s still living in a brick jail in Surrey when she should be here with me. Why? Because she’s fucking brave like that. But it’s not just one woman’s courage to save ten thousand here, Santiago. She’s the woman I love. The mother of my son—”