Chapter 61 #2
I sway on my knees. The idea of lying down for a bit is really enticing. The getting down part might be problematic… but I’m also trying to work out what the fuck is going on and I can’t do that if I’m face down in the dirt.
Roman and Jero are not pointing their guns at the Pakhan.
He seems like the biggest threat, so this is fucking confusing.
Nor are they pointing them at me, which my scattered thought pattern decides also might be useful in this scenario.
I carefully twist, trying to see who they’re pointing at behind us, but the movement makes my head spin and sets off a fresh wave of spasms.
Idiot, Christian!
When I can get the spinning motion under control, I find only Ettore’s men—the ones I was just dragged past, and who likewise have drawn their weapons and look as confused as I feel.
Why are Jero and Roman pointing their weapons at their own people?
I don’t fucking breathe and the only movement I make is slowly turning my head back to face the front. No, I wasn’t hallucinating. Grigory Koslov, the Russian Pakhan, really does have his gun pressed to Ettore’s head.
“What is this?” Ettore demands. His hands are held up and out, as if he knows the Pakhan means business.
“I could ask you the same question,” the Pakhan replies smoothly.
“Me?” Ettore demands, incredulous. “Your soldiers moved first! You have a gun at my temple. We have an agreement. None of my men moved.” He laughs, short, sharp, and a little nervous.
I’m really enjoying that laugh.
“You asked me here to ensure we had a seamless handover,” the Pakhan says coolly. “Did your men not get the memo?”
“Lower your weapon, Grigory.” Ettore snarls. “I asked you here, remember, not the other way around. To back me up. To do whatever I say.”
Grigory jabs the muzzle of the gun against Ettore’s skull with a dull clank.
Ettore freezes.
Please, blow the motherfucker’s brains out. I’m close enough that I might feel the splatter hit me.
“It seems I made a mistake,” Grigory continues. “I thought we were associates. The kind that kept each other informed of our plans.”
“Lower your goddamned gun, Grigory, or my men will kill you!”
“You disappoint me, Ettore.”
“I disappoint you?” He sounds incredulous again.
Gotta hand it to him, the Pakhan is really ballsy, and I approve. I wish I could see more than Ettore’s profile from here. It’s possible I won’t get out of here alive, so I’m going to enjoy the moment.
“Yes, you disappoint me—constantly. For too long, you have presumed that I, a Pakhan, serve you. That continuing to do so is my only option. I find I have grown tired of it, if I must be honest. And I do feel that while I’m pointing a gun at your head with my finger upon the trigger, I have leave to be fully honest.”
No one fucking moves. Apart from me. I’m still swaying a bit.
It’s only now that I notice that Leon and Dante have also drawn their weapons. They are not pointing at the Russian soldiers, who are the most prevalent force, but directly at Ettore’s men.
Dante, Leon, I fucking love you. Jero and Roman, I reserve judgment, but I might fucking love you too.
Mateo shifts slightly. There, boxed between him, Dante, and Leon, is Carmela.
Her eyes are huge in her pale face, but she also stands tall and fucking fierce—a perfect, defiant queen, utterly unafraid.
They’ve placed her strategically with her protection in mind.
They’ve planned this.
With the Pakhan?
They must have. Jesus, I don’t want to hope but…
DANTE
FOUR HOURS EARLIER…
Under different circumstances, I might appreciate that I managed to arrange a meeting with the Russians on such short notice.
When they suggested it be at our club and that the Pakhan himself was coming, I concluded that they either wanted something from us or were so confident of their position that they didn’t care either way.
Grigory Koslov has a presence. Leon is a big man, and Grigory, I note, is on par as he sweeps into Leon’s office.
He has ten years on us, with gray at his dark temples.
He’s been the Pakhan for the last five years, although rumor has it, he lost the position for a period of that timeline before wresting the power back.
The first glances are frosty as their men eyeball ours.
“Leon and Dante. The Barone men who are making waves.” The Pakhan nods toward us as his men spread out, taking up strategic positions in a perfect mirror of our soldiers. He turns to me. “My brother sends his regards to your wife, Dante. Tell me, is she still the dazzling personality I remember?”
“Helena is a bitch and I prefer not to think of her as my wife,” I say bluntly.
His smile is broad and appears genuine. “A marriage offering other benefits, then, I presume.”
“Shall we make ourselves comfortable?” Leon grits out, indicating the long couches before the window overlooking the club. “A drink, maybe.”
“Thank you, and nothing for me.” Grigor makes himself comfortable on the couch. Two of his men move to flank him.
Leon and I take the couch opposite.
“You fucked me over,” Grigory dives straight in. “Killed two of my men and set the police crawling all over us by telling them another of my men was involved.”
Go team Christian.
“An unfortunate incident,” Leon replies.
He’s still wearing an expression that says he wants to take Grigory by the throat. I’m fucking tense and questioning myself for trusting his earlier assurance that he could put their history aside.
“We couldn’t let your men take Carmela,” Leon continues, his eyes losing some of their heat. “I’m sure you understand.”
“Perfectly. I’d have done the same if the circumstances were reversed. It doesn’t mean I appreciate it. But I do appreciate you asking me over to discuss suitable compensation.”
“Compensation? The actual fuck,” Leon snarls. “You’ve got some balls. I lost my father. You lost two soldiers!”
I throw an arm out, fearing he’s about to launch himself across the coffee table and strangle Grigor.
The collective soldiers around the room—six of theirs and six of ours—reach for weapons.
Grigory raises a brow and waves his men to stand down.
After a few heaving breaths, Leon does the same and jerks away from my arm, back against the couch.
“To be clear, Leopold Barone, I did not kill your father,” Grigor states calmly. “Ettore Gallo ordered the hit, fucked up, and came to me begging to clean up the mess before Cedro found out. I gave him a couple of soldiers who had disappointed me. He gave me something of value in return.”
Leon doesn’t blink. “And what happened to Cedro and his late wife?”
“Also Ettore, and another favor he claimed, which further indebted him to me. This business can be brutal. Certainly, I have experienced my share of ungentlemanly conduct by those seeking power. It goes with the territory.” He adjusts his right cuff.
“But I’m old school. Killing women in one’s quest for power does not sit well with me.
How other business ventures handle their disputes is none of my concern, beyond that I might exploit them with a clear conscience…
” He shrugs. “I’m here today because Ettore Gallo treats his business partners with the same lack of respect he treats his own family. ”
“He’s fucked you over worse than we did by killing the two soldiers,” Leon says, contemplatively.
Grigor grimaces. “Two more were left hospitalized, but if they were sloppy enough to let a boy get one over them, then they learned a hard lesson. And yes, Ettore’s rise has left him with confused perspectives and delusions.
He thinks he’s more powerful than he is and has a short memory regarding favors owed. ”
I don’t point out that Christian is not a boy in anybody’s books. I’d take that insult to the grave to get my baby brother back.
“You want Ettore,” Leon says.
The Pakhan inclines his head.
“That’s why you were after Carmela.” A red haze comes down over me. I only realize I’ve gotten up when Leon shoves me back into the seat.
Lots of guns are pointing for the second time in as many minutes.
“Please. Don’t disrespect me,” Grigor says, again waving his men to lower their weapons. “Mrs. Gallo would have been our temporary guest. We do not harm women in my circle, no matter how much their husbands might displease me. I have just said as much, did I not?”
“Don’t call her that,” I snarl.
“The future Mrs. Barone, then,” Grigor says placatingly “once your marriage of convenience is out of the way… I know a man who can be relied upon to fast-track annulments. I’d be happy to broker the introduction.”
Now the bastard looks amused.
Leon gives me a ‘what the fuck, Dante’, look. He waves our men to stand down. “Another time, maybe,” Leon says. “But why go to the trouble of snatching Carmela? Why not just meet Ettore and take him? The honest way that you profess to prefer.”
“We could, but then we would have to deal with his brothers and their soldiers, and war is costly. Jimmy Rizzo left a number of disgruntled parties when he disappeared. It would have been a little messy. And there are other options now.”
“You want us to take the fall. For Ettore’s brothers to come after us.” Although I don’t put it as a question, he nods.
“Correct. Maybe they will eventually figure out that you didn’t take him. But by then, the landscape will have changed, and Ettore will be dead. I’m sure you want Ettore, too. But I’m betting that you want your younger sibling more. You, unlike Don Gallo, appreciate family loyalty.”
Leon turns to me.
Grigor is right. I want Ettore, too, as does Leon. But I have an idea about that—one we can worry about after Christian is back… I nod.
“We have mutual goals, Grigor,” Leon says, focusing on the Pakhan. “Let’s negotiate.”
DANTE
THE PRESENT…
“Tell your men to put down their weapons, Ettore,” Grigor says.
“Like hell?—”
Grigor shoves the gun harder against Ettore’s head, forcing him a step back.
“We need to have a discussion, Ettore. We need to renegotiate our deal. And if you can do so to my satisfaction, I will remove the gun from your head, and you may take your prisoners and do what the fuck you want with them… Or you can have a blood bath. But make no mistake, it will be your limited grey matter that hits this warehouse floor first.”
Sweat trickles down the center of my spine. My finger applies tension to the trigger as I share a brief look with Leon.
Is this the fucking deal going south? Or is it the Pakhan improvising to protect his investment with us and ensure the bloodbath doesn’t unfold.
“You have a dozen men. I have them more than covered,” Grigor continues. “Tell your men to lower their weapons.”
No one moves.
“Do it,” Ettore snarls. “Lower them.”
“On the floor,” the Pakhan insists.
Ettore’s eyes bulge.
“I don’t trust you or your men right now,” Grigor continues. “Tell them to put them on the fucking floor And we will have our chat.”
“On the floor,” Ettore hisses.
Around the warehouse, weapons clatter against concrete. The Russian soldiers surge forward to gather them up and round up Ettore’s men.
“What are you doing?” Ettore demands, his eyes showing a lot of white as he strains to see what’s going on.
I can feel Carmela’s fingers twisting into the fabric at the back of my jacket, and I reach back to take her hand in mine, keeping her behind me until I’m sure the danger is passed.
Grigor flips his gun in his hand and whips Ettore across the temple. His brief cry of agony is deeply satisfying as he falls to his knees.
Grigor’s bodyguards drag Ettore to his feet.
“His men are yours to do with as you will,” Grigor says to us.
Leon nods to Mateo. “Round them up.”
Ettore roars, spittle flying from his lips as he struggles against the two huge Russian soldiers. “You played me, Grigor? You dare to fucking play me?”
Grigor steps up to the former Don. He taps Ettore’s cheek, his smile cold.
“You will enjoy my Russian hospitality. And I will enjoy watching Leon Barone tear your empire down.”