4. Footsteps
Adrik sat in the limo, fixing his jacket while staring out the tinted window. Jolie stood beside her car, watching them, the fear and curiosity mixing together.
‘Stay away from me,’ she said. But Adrik suspected that’s not exactly what she wanted. He felt a smirk pull at his lips. Jolie usually wasn’t his type, but there were always exceptions. Her nipples through her pajamas were still a present image in his mind that he wasn’t about to erase.
Alexei rolled down the partition, sitting in the front seat. “What do you think?” His arm was in a black cast, resting on the door. He also looked out the window, watching her. “Think she’ll talk?”
“No,” Adrik acknowledged. “She understands.”
“She didn’t cry or beg. You didn’t threaten her family. I don’t know.”
“Sometimes, less is more.”
Alexei mumbled, “Guess that’s why you’re next in line.”
Adrik observed the side of his brother’s face. Though there was some aggravation, there wasn’t any resentment, and that mattered. Alexei was the oldest, but when he turned eighteen, ready to take on as head of the family, Alexei purposely screwed up so Adrik could take over. Alexei never wanted to be the leader. In their line of business, everything needed to be calculated and thought out, and Alexei wasn’t a planner. He only knew where he was going once he was already coming back.
“Want me to send someone to Orlando, just in case she changes her mind?”
Jolie’s parents lived in Orlando. The implication was clear, but Adrik didn’t see the need. “No. Has her apartment been mended?”
“Yep, the cleaners are done.”
Adrik closed his eyes. These minor, insignificant problems could become an avalanche if not cared for properly. It was why he took time out of his day to deal with it, but the big situation was the assassination attempt on his child. Nearly eighteen hours later, there was still no claim to the attack. He had gone over every situation, and none of it made sense.
Ten semi-major families were in his control, along with over a hundred gangs and clans that flew the Morozov flag. Any one of them could have done it, but why?
The Morozov family was a million souls strong, with roots in Tampa, Clearwater, Lakeland, St. Petersburg, Bradenton, Ft. Myers, and a slowly developing gang in Miami. They were the most prominent mafia family in Florida. So, who would be dumb enough to go after his child?
Kids were supposed to be off-limits until they were eighteen. It’s an unspoken law in their underworld. This was a cause for war, and he had every intention of hitting back as soon as he figured out who it was.
“Who responded so far to the meeting?”
“The Garcia family, Delgado, Utkins, and Kuzmin.”
Only four out of the ten. Was there something going on that Adrik didn’t know?
“Oh, um,” Alexei nervously began. “Papa wants to talk to you.”
Adrik curled his hand into a fist. “Shit.”
His father went on vacation two months ago to allow Adrik to run the company as a trial. Adrik was fully capable of being the head of the family, but his father was controlling.
“Put him on the phone,” Adrik requested.
Alexei grimaced. “He’s home.”
Adrik sunk into his chair like a troubled teen.
Adrik walked the long hallway toward his father’s office. Yakov Morozov was a man of specialized taste. He was fond of a hunter’s life, a copy of his father, Adrik’s grandfather, who was a great hunter in Russia. Yakov took on all his father’s favorites to become the favored child out of ten siblings.
It worked, Adrik mused.
The dark mahogany double doors stood before him, and he took this time to reassemble any anxiety. His father was better at reading people than he was.
With a deep breath, Adrik stepped in.
There were dead animals on nearly every section of the wall. Deer, muskrats, bears, and moose. Behind his father’s desk was his most prized kill: a full-bodied lion standing on a shelf. The shotgun he used sat beneath it, always cocked and ready in case of an emergency. The room was a gift Adrik had given his father on his sixtieth birthday.
Yakov sat at his desk, currently on the phone. He put a finger up to quiet his son, and Adrik sat in one of the high-back leather chairs. The office was straight out of a gangster movie, and Adrik sneered at every little stereotype. Yakov was part of the older generation, never conforming to the newest way of things. It’s why their ring of business was in decline in Yakov’s care.
Yakov hung up, standing, forcing Adrik back to his feet to greet his father with a kiss on the cheek. Yakov held his arms. “How is my granddaughter?”
Though Adrik was relieved his father was here, he worried about what his father would say. For two months, Adrik had complete control over the company. Against his brother’s advice to do things the same way they’ve always been done, Adrik implemented new ideas and improved their resources by thirty percent.
Was his father going to acknowledge the renovation as a good thing?
“Helina’s fine, like I told you over the phone. You didn’t have to come home.”
Yakov sat in the chair opposite of him, offering Adrik to sit as well. “Someone tries to kill my son and granddaughter, I’m stopping everything I’m doing. Don’t you want my help?”
Adrik didn’t want to insult him. “Of course. Your sons and granddaughter deserve all your attention.”
Yakov ignored the correction. “Six families aren’t responding. That’s not a good sign.”
“Do you think they are plotting something?”
“Of course. They took advantage while I was out of town.”
Adrik withheld an eye roll. Yakov believed he needed his hands in everything, or it went to shit, so he said.
“We need to flush out information. You will stop the fulfillment of all drug orders. We’ll see who rats first.”
“That’s… that’s millions of dollars a day.”
The idea of stopping the funding of drugs to the populace would have never entered his mind. People relied on their products to survive, whether for money to feed their families or an addiction. To take it away could cause a riot.
Or allow their competition to step up and replace them.
“Yes, is your daughter and brothers not worth it?”
“You’re cutting into the livelihood of thousands of people.”
“Yes. Again, is your daughter not worth it?”
Adrik had to hold his temper. His father had a knack for pushing the wrong buttons. “Of course she is, but what you suggest is dangerous.”
“I give it less than two hours before someone comes with information.”
“It’s too much of a risk.”
Yakov smiled as he leaned against his desk, grabbing a cigar. “What do I always say?”
Adrik watched him cut the tip of the long, fat cigar. He put it in his mouth and looked up at his son. Adrik gave him the answer. “Big risk, big reward.”
“That’s right. Now, about the shootout. This teacher that was there? What are you doing about her?”
“She’s been taken care of.”
“She has a meeting with that FBI agent, Mally. The bitch that tried to convict me six years ago. Thought she’d end her career and get pregnant by now. But these women nowadays want to be men.”
Adrik reassured, “I took care of it.”
Yakov ignited the silver zippo and held fire over the tip of his cigar. The smoke was thick and swirled upward. “Hn,” he inhaled, and held it, staring at his son for a moment longer before blowing it out. “I’ll leave it alone for now.”
Adrik was hoping that was the end of it. And then Yakov spoke again. “Since you’re here, let’s talk about the changes you’ve made.”
Adrik met his father’s gaze. Though Yakov was now an old man, his eyes never changed. They were the same dead eyes he met every day of his life. “What about them?”
“You think you can do this job better than me?”
Adrik chewed the inside of his cheek, looking away. He was disappointed in his father because, for a moment, he thought Yakov would be proud of his actions. But he should have known better. “I wanted to try something different.”
“Think I haven’t tried different things? The way I operate is the best there is. So, all you need to do is continue in my footsteps. I don’t need you to think. I don’t need you to question. Just copy. Can you do that? Or should I find someone else to take on the family?”
Adrik snapped his head back to his father. The mere comment made his blood boil. Who else would his father employ? There was no one good enough to handle their family name. It belonged to Adrik. He spent years to gain it, and to threaten him was an insult.
Adrik thought about fighting against it. There was evidence in their profits that Adrik’s changes had made a difference, but he had worked too hard to become the heir to lose it because of his pride. He fisted his hand, and said, “I can do that.”
“Good.”