Chapter 44 Leon #2
“Mr. Petrovi? here for Mr. Davis,” Dom announces us, and I barely suppress a laugh. I’m a successful entrepreneur, but I’ll never be someone who was born into money.
The receptionist flashes her pearly-white smile. “Mr. Davis will see you now.”
Her tightly tied bun doesn’t move an inch as she struts toward the door behind her desk.
The three knocks she places on the shiny mahogany door are well-practiced and perfectly spaced.
After a few seconds inside, she returns, gesturing for us to come in.
I lead the way, making it clear who’s the boss.
With his chin held high, Mr. Davis waits for us to enter.
The chair underneath him is more like a throne, adding a frame to his elderly face.
His hair defies the laws of aging, with his glasses resting atop the thick mop of brown.
Yet, the deep wrinkles cut into his face and hands expose the fact that the man has been here longer than this building.
He doesn’t get up from his chair. Rather, he gestures with his palm to a set of seats.
Luka and I take a seat in front of his desk, while Dom finds his place in the back.
The brown leather chairs complement the heavy velvet drapes and the exquisite craftsmanship of his desk.
Unlike the foyer and the reception, which are decorated more modernly, this corner office screams old money.
The man in front of us clears his throat. “Mr. Petrovi?. You must be a powerful man to have the mayor call in favors to get you a meeting. And then to reschedule.” It’s a not-so-subtle dig at me.
“Well, it was very important for us to meet.”
“Was it?” He lowers his chin. “Forgive me, but I have a hard time believing that.”
“That is understandable. But you’re a businessman, Mr. Davis. One of the best. I think this should help you believe.” My fingers wrap around the leather-bound binder inside my briefcase.
The corners of his lips tip up, as expected. I place the binder on his desk, and he looks almost excited to open it. He lowers his glasses onto his nose, his eyes trailing the first page quickly. “What’s this?”
“An offer.” I lean back in my chair, crossing my ankle over my knee.
“Why would I take it?” He shoots us a disbelieving look.
“Because you’re smart. If you turn a few pages, you’ll realize that this offer is your best chance for getting a return on your investment.”
Releasing a sharp breath out of his nose, he turns the page.
“As you can see.” I clear my throat. “Your supplier’s liquor license has expired.
Something about their distilleries not being up to code.
You could wait for them to fix those irregularities, which, hint hint, they won’t, and lose money and status.
Or you could sell the contract. To me.” His gaze returns to the pages in front of him.
Bill Davis is the Russians’ biggest customer.
They are the sole supplier of the vodka for his hotels and bars, which span all over the country.
He glances up at me, intertwining his fingers on the desk. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re brave or stupid.”
I flash him a smile. “A little of both, but I’m convinced you’re smart enough to see this is your best option.”
He purses his lips, and I know I’ve got him. “And you have a way of getting the merchandise that I need?”
“If you look a little further, you’ll see that I do. The vodka I serve in my casinos is among the best-rated in the world. Matter of fact, we brought you a sample.”
Dom gets up and places a bottle of vodka on Bill’s desk. The man barely looks up, his gaze still on the binder. “And what about the distilleries?” he asks.
“What about them? Maybe I’ll buy them and start making some more quality liqueur. In any case, those distilleries will be none of your business from now on.”
Luka brightens beside me. “We could make our own rakia.”
His excitement is contagious, hooking the corner of my lips. “Maybe. The possibilities are endless.” My tongue runs over my top teeth.
“You do know who you’ll be fucking over with this?” Bill asks, his cold eyes peeking out from under his glasses.
“This is business, Mr. Davis. Don’t tell me a man like you worries about the fit a single supplier will throw.”
He purses his lips, his ego not liking my stream of thoughts. “You know as well as I do, they can be pretty persuasive.”
“Oh, I know. I just don’t let bullies force me into poor business decisions. Besides, if we get this contract, you’ll find that the Russians will no longer be this city’s problem.”
His ears perk up at that. “Do I have time to think about it?”
“Unfortunately, no. My offer expires in” — I check my watch — “five minutes.”
His nostrils flare, but he focuses back on the papers before him. I did the math myself, meaning he won’t be finding any mistakes. Four minutes pass before he leans back in the chair, letting out a loud sigh.
“Fine. But this is the first and the last time I’ll let you strongarm me into anything.” He wags his finger at me.
I hand him the brand-new contract and a pen, and watch him sign the dotted line.
We shake hands, and the three of us enter the elevator with our shoulders held high. Part one is done.
“That’s it? That’s the end of the plan?” Luka asks as he realizes Dom is parking in my garage. “Sorry, but that was deeply anticlimactic.”
I let out a dry laugh. “Not quite. But there’s no room for your violence in this plan, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“How dull,” he comments, making me chuckle. There’s violence to be done, but it doesn’t belong to him. It doesn’t even belong to me.
I lead him to one of the three prison cells I have here in the building.
The only one that is currently occupied.
I knew there was a reason not to kill him right away, but it took some time for the plan to crystalize in my mind.
The room is dire, with nothing more than a metal desk in one corner, some shelving on the walls and a single chair in the middle of it.
“Luka, meet Robert Welding. He might not look like it now, but he’s actually the deputy chief of the police.” The man’s sunken face is bloodied, his shoulder drooping on the chair he’s tied to. The floor is covered in fluids, making the stench even worse than last time.
Luka lets out a low whistle. “You really lost it after I left.” I know exactly what he means. Kidnapping and torturing high-level police officers isn’t our style. But this had to be done. It was a lucky coincidence that the motherfucker would turn out to be useful in the end.
“Well, Robbie here is actually the inside man for the Russians, did you know that?” Luka’s eyebrows raise to his forehead. “And he’s going to help us deal with them, aren’t you, Robbie?”
He shakes his head, muted muffles exiting the gag in his mouth.
“Seems like he doesn’t want to help us,” Luka stalks him, coming to stand behind him.
“That’s okay. I wasn’t actually asking.” I check the shelving on the wall behind me.
Most of it is filled with different torture devices, knives, hammers, and pliers.
But I’m looking for something else. A phone.
I spot it on the top shelf. Dominik got strict instructions to charge it, and I’m glad to see it’s fully charged.
The screen is cracked but that won’t make a difference for what I had in mind. “Wipe his finger.”
Luka grabs a rag from the desk and starts cleaning his hand.
The blood has crusted on his skin, making it impossible to wipe off with a dry rag, but we just need it clean enough for the biometric fingerprint reader.
Robbie struggles to get out of the chair as Luka grips his index finger tightly and I close the distance with the phone.
The screen unlocks, letting me into his contacts.
It takes a minute, but I find the contact I’m looking for and start the call.
As soon as the dialed number answers, I’m buried in a barrage of Russian profanities. “…where the fuck have you been?”
“Robbie can’t come to the phone right now.
” The voice quiets. “He’s rather busy.” I glance at the man in question.
“But I’m not. I’m here to tell you to cut your losses and get the hell out of the city.
Your distillery is gone; the guy who was giving away our secrets is gone, too.
Your liqueur licence was revoked, you lost your vodka contracts; and tomorrow, you will be the leading suspects in the murder of the deputy chief of police.
Without your inside man to protect you.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” the voice spits out.
“I think you know who I am. I’m the man whose father you killed. You should consider yourself lucky that most of you are still alive to tuck your tails and run away.”
“You can’t threaten us like this.”
A dark chuckle escapes me. “Oh, I can. Because you’re done. Without contacts in the police and most of your sources of revenue, you have no business being here. So you can either leave by tomorrow, on your own. Or we can let the real fun begin. Tick-tock.”
I end the call, dropping the phone to the floor, just out of Robbie’s reach.
“Thank you for your help. I’ll be back soon.” I flash him a blinding smile, leaving the room.
Luka follows behind. “Do I get to have my fun now?”
“I told you; he isn’t yours to have fun with.”
He rocks back on his heels as we step into the elevator. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t have done this yourself.”
A surprised laugh bubbles out of me. “Of course, I could.” I glance at him. “But I wanted us to do this together.”
He dips his head, understanding passing between us. This was it. The revenge for our father’s death. The end of this mind-numbing war with the Russians. It might have been a rocky road to get here, but the two of us are still standing. The business is still standing.
“He’d be proud of you,” Luka states with full certainty, piercing my chest.
I try to swallow the emotions accumulating in my throat, but my voice is still hoarse as I say, “He’d be proud of both of us.”
Even though I’m gritting my teeth to stop myself from crying, I still feel lighter than I’ve felt in months. Lighter than I’ve felt since Father died.
There was a massive weight sitting on my shoulders, pressing down with all its might.
But now, the weight has lifted, giving me space to breathe again.
This isn’t the end of our troubles. In our line of business, there’ll be new shit to deal with by tomorrow, but knowing our father is looking down on us, proud… fuck, that feels good.
There’s only one more thing to deal with now. One more secret to be let out in the open.