“We’re gonna bring Kiro home safe, and then we’ll take what’s ours in a tornado of fucking bullets—you watch.” I’m channeling Mira’s optimism now, not that she’d approve. “The brothers together will take the whole thing back.”
Five minutes until we leave. We’ll hit Aldo and his men at the heart of their kingdom. Exactly what Konstantin didn’t want us to do until we were all three together.
Maybe I should’ve listened.
I act confident, but this thing is going downhill fast.
I wince as Currie wraps my taped ankle with a soft, stretchy bandage. Viktor’s texting, marshaling the troops.
Konstantin’s health isn’t so good, but he’s set up in a posh assisted-living apartment with a part-time nurse to help him out. I’m talking very posh, out in the western suburbs.
Don’t let anyone tell you crime doesn’t pay.
I have this messed-up idea of us all together at Christmas, the three of us and Konstantin. To give Konstantin a Christmas with all of us there.
Ten on a Sunday night, and Agronika is pretty packed.
It’s a dark place, and not for any lack of lights—there are plenty of them around, but they glow instead of actually lighting the place up. Same with the candles on the white-cloth-covered tables. More glowing. Lots of dark wood paneling. Classic Albanian mob. Like an old ship.
I stroll past the soft-talking diners and steaming plates of roasted lamb and stuffed peppers, air rich with the aroma of warm bread with an edge of pickled cabbage.
I straighten my cuffs and move through, smooth and strong like my ankle isn’t crunching in on itself. I feel enemy eyes on me.
It’s laid out in an L with the front being mostly public, but once you turn the corner, you’re in Aldo Nikolla territory.
Walking in here goes against every survival instinct I have. All those years of running from these faces. The target on my back feels like it’s lit in neon.
Viktor’s guys are at the elbow of the L. They’ve been in contact with Konstantin, letting him see the place through the eyes of their iPhones. So far none of Lazarus’s guys have shown. I don’t make eye contact as I go past; I just tip my head in acknowledgement.
The buzz in the air fades as soon as his soldiers see. I can feel the fucking hands reaching under the tables, guns coming out of holsters. Fingers on triggers.
The temperature seems to drop ten degrees.
Going in there is suicide, Tito said.
I’m completely vulnerable. Not even a vest, not that it would help. These guys shoot for the head.
I walk on in, heart thundering.
All these men know about the million bucks on my head. It’ll just take one guy who doesn’t know I have Mira under wraps to go for it. One guy who doesn’t know I have that leverage.
Something inside me twists when I see Aldo at a rounded booth in the corner with a few of his minor guys. My fingers stretch and curl with the deep need to tear him apart, muscle from tendon, tendon from bone, sinew by sinew.
That need is so much at the surface right now, it scares me a little bit.
I can still hear the way my mom screamed just before he killed her. My dad made no sound—he was fighting Nikolla and Lazarus to the end, but my mom screamed until Aldo cut off her scream with a hunting blade, turned it into a guttural sound I’ll never forget. And then that thump on the floor. And then the sound of Nikolla puking. My brothers’ cries getting faint as they were taken off.
My skin feels clammy. It’s these soldiers around me. I can feel their fear and loathing. I get that tickle on my back that tells me I’m being sighted.
I shove the feeling back and smile when he catches sight of me. The old man looks stunned. Yeah, it really is insane that I’m walking in here, strides long and lazy. I reach down and adjust my cock, taunting him.
He rises up out of that booth like somebody yanked a string on the top of his head.
I sneer, like I have nothing to fear.
Nikolla grabs me and pushes me to a wooden post between booths. I allow it, laughing. The laugh is for him, but a little bit for Viktor’s guys, who are keeping watch. “What’re you gonna do, old man?” I say.
His eyes bulge a little, the way old man eyes sometimes do. His cheeks are red, and his breath smells like scotch.
“Got something for you,” I say. “It’s from Mira.”
“You didn’t—”
“You want it or not?”
He’s trying to hide the dread, but it’s not so easy because he doesn’t know what I’m made of. He’s wondering right about now how bad a motherfucker I am. Would Aleksio Dragusha chop up his little girl? Worse?
A lot of guys say shit like that, but they don’t follow through. And their stock goes down because of it. You need to follow through on your threats in this business. It’s a matter of loyalty, dignity, the honor of your word.
“Well, do you want it?”
He studies my face.
I smile. I want him to hurt so bad it makes me crazy. It’s a minor miracle my hands aren’t around his throat.
A few of his guys have closed around us, waiting for his orders. It’s unnerving, being alone, surrounded by so many guys itching to kill me, face-to-face with Nikolla.
“Little privacy,” I say, cool as I can manage it.
He nods, and the guys ease off.
He lets go of my shirt and backs off, motioning me to a booth off to the side. I go, and he follows. We sit across from each other in the booth.
I reach in my jacket pocket, pull out the eyeglass case, and slide it across the table. “Hint,” I say. “It’s not eyeglasses.”
He creaks open the lid. The ring is on top, the finger in a baggie wrapped in a cloth underneath. He takes out the ring and studies it. I wait, curious what he’ll do with the finger, how he’ll hide his blood aversion. He tips the case toward himself, rustling the cloth, pretending to look at it, just like Mira said he would. Then he snaps it shut, clearly shaken. The ring sold it like Mira said it would.
He holds the ring in the tips of two fat fingers. “I won’t kill you fast,” he manages. “I will hunt you. I will find you. I will kill you slow.”
“Yeah, well, until then you need to be thinking how bad you don’t want another gift like this.”
He studies my eyes.
I sit back. “Service is slow here.”
“What do you want?”
“I’d take a vodka,” I say. “Up.”
It’s not what he meant, but I could use a drink. He motions over a waiter and orders.
“Let me talk to her.”
“She’s sleeping,” I say. “It’s been a busy day.”
Silence. “You did it.”
“Now you need to give us everything on Kiro. If you love your daughter, you want me to get to him first.”
He waits a bit. Then, “Fine.”
I’m instantly suspicious. It’s too easy.
“Ligne has a drinking buddy, Archie Vega,” Nikolla continues. “He offloads some of his work to Vega, but he doesn’t want me to know. He confides in Vega. And Vega is the type…let’s just say he likes to know things. He collects secrets and blackmails people. I’ve been thinking about taking him out. I don’t know that he knows, but I could see him getting it in his pocket. I’ve always thought if I needed to find your brother, it would be Archie Vega who could point me.”