16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Nikolai Volkov
“S o, why don’t we start with who you are and what you need?” I asked, flipping my binder open. I ran my pen down the page until I got to the name I was searching for.
Alex Delacourt, Prez of the Dark Knights Motorcycle Club. He ran the New York Charter, and from the information laid out in front of me, he was currently in a turf war with another rival MC—the Scavengers.
After dropping Tatiana off at the café for her trial shift, I’d headed straight for my meetings with the prospective clients Aleksandr had mentioned. It was a good distraction, something I desperately needed at this point.
Last night had been tortuous for a number of reasons.
Walking away from a naked and willing Tatiana had to be just about the hardest thing I’d ever had to fucking do.
Every part of my body literally screamed for her.
I craved her soft, smooth skin, the taste of her pussy, the feel of her wrapped around my cock, squeezing it with an almost painful pleasure.
I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy, though.
Tatiana was prepared to give me her body but not her heart. Her soul. Parts of her would never be enough for me. I wanted every single fucking inch. I wanted her laughs. Her smiles. Her sassy as fuck attitude. I wanted to be the one she could rely on, trust again.
I still wasn’t sure how I was going to make that happen yet.
So far, my only plan was to just be there.
To constantly smother her with my presence and prove to her I wasn’t going anywhere.
That I planned to be right there, at her side for as long as it took for me to gain her trust again. Or die trying.
Alex took a drag of the cigar at his lips, blowing out a ring of smoke. He was wearing his cut: a black, leather motorcycle vest and a pair of ripped denim jeans. He was on the older side. Late forties, with short chestnut hair and dark grey eyes.
“Your little clipboard there doesn’t tell you everything you already need to know, sport?” he asked, giving me a condescending look.
I had every bit of information there was available on him and his MC, from both public and private sources.
But I wanted something more than I could find online or from word of mouth.
We didn’t work with people we didn’t know or trust. Doing that shit got you killed, or worse, caught and thrown in jail.
It was imperative I find out exactly what kind of man Alex was, whether he was the trustworthy type.
The type who would keep his mouth shut and not rat out where he got his supplies from if he ever got caught by the cops.
I levelled my gaze on him, staring him down. He thought because he was older than me, that it gave him the right to speak to me like I was a child. To not give me the respect I was due. The respect my position demanded.
He cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter and avoiding my eyes. I’d been told that people found me intimidating, especially when I was glaring at them for stepping out of line.
“I’m Alex Delacourt, and I’m the President of the Dark Knights Charter here in NYC.”
“Very good,” I nodded. “And what kind of ordnance are you looking for?”
“AK-47s, MP4s, some single-shot handguns, combat knives and bowie knives.”
I wrote them down next to his name as he spoke, doing a mental tally of the inventory I knew we had available already.
“We’re in the middle of a turf war at the moment and I want them for—”
I raised a hand in the air, silencing him. “I don’t need to know what you want them for. I just need to know how many and when you need them by.”
“I’ll need a case of each by the end of the week.”
It was definitely doable. We had everything he was asking for and I could easily organise delivery. The question remained though: was he the type of man we wanted to do business with?
“Deposit for such an order would be fifty grand.”
“Deposit?” he frowned. “I never needed to pay a deposit when I worked with Valentino.”
“Valentino took risks. That’s why his ass is sitting in federal prison right now. The Bratva do not take risks. If you want to work with us, it will be on our terms, our rules. You can take it or leave it.”
His lips pursed in obvious distaste. He was used to being the man in charge, dictating his own rules. Not having them forced upon him. Especially by someone who was his junior. Men like him hated listening to anyone younger than them.
“Fine. You have a deal. I can wire you the money.”
I shook my head. “Cash only. We don’t leave a paper trail.”
Annoyance flared in his eyes and he grumbled under his breath, “Valentino always did wire transfers.”
I made a quick note and then shut my binder, putting the lid back on my pen.
I took a deep breath, tapping my fingers together as I studied him closely.
My gut was telling me that he couldn’t be trusted.
Based on this one, small interaction, I could tell he acted impulsively, that he let his emotions get the better of him.
Coupled with the fact that he didn’t like being told what to do—and he had a problem taking orders from anyone younger than himself—and it meant working with him was a recipe for disaster.
I could only imagine what would happen if Lukyan tried telling him what to do.
He was the worst type of client.
“I’m going to be frank with you, Mr Delacourt. The Bratva will not be doing business with you.”
He blinked, waiting for me to elaborate. When I didn’t, his confusion turned to anger. “Is this a joke? Because if it is, it isn’t funny.”
“I don’t joke.”
He abruptly got to his feet, his chair crashing to the ground.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, boy ?” he hissed.
He pressed his hands flat against the surface of the table and leant forward, trying to intimidate me by getting in my personal space.
“Now you listen to me, you little shit. If you think—”
I jumped up and smashed his face down onto the table, my fingers gripping the back of his neck tightly. He struggled, grunting with excretion, but the grip I had on his nape made it impossible for him to escape.
“Now you listen to me ,” I whispered darkly in his ear, “I don’t take kindly to threats, or being treated with disrespect.
” I pulled out a knife and held it right in front of his eye.
He stiffened, going deadly still. “I want you to pick your next words very carefully, Mr Delacourt, because what you say next will determine whether or not you walk out of here alive.”
He swallowed nervously, his gaze locked on the knife millimeters away from piercing his eye. If he so much as flinched, he’d lose it.
“I apologise.”
“For?” I pressed. Apologises didn’t mean a damn thing unless you knew what you were apologising for.
“For talking to you like shit, okay?! Let me go.”
I held him for a few seconds longer, just so that he understood I wasn’t letting him go because he demanded it. That I was doing it because I chose to.
My grip loosened and he flung himself back, putting distance between us. I saw the exact moment that he decided to make a move flash across his face, his hand moving to his waist.
“Do it and I’ll kill you before you even get the chance to pull that gun,” I warned, my muscles tensing in preparation.
His hand hovered in the air right next to his hip, his fingers moving back and forth slightly like he was just itching to pick it up.
We stood there, staring at each other like we were in an old-fashioned western duel, just waiting to see who would make the first move.
It would take him half a second to clasp his gun.
Another two seconds to pull it out and aim it at me.
Plenty of time for me to kill him before he got a shot off.
Alex growled in frustration, all but slamming his foot as he stood down. I kept my guard up, watching him closely.
“You’ve made a big mistake, boy ,” he sneered. “You have no idea who you’re fucking with. You’ll never get work in this city again. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Really?” I drawled. “I guess New York will now be the safest city in the world then, won’t it? Since there’ll be no more guns coming in at all.”
He frowned.
“You look confused. Allow me to elaborate.” I threw my knife, the blade sinking deep into his thigh.
He screamed, dropping to the ground and clutching his thigh, blood seeping through his fingers. “What the fuck?!” He reached for his gun and I rushed forward, kicking it out of his hand.
I flattened him on his back with a boot to the chest. “Valentino's operation has crumbled, and now we've laid claim to his territory. Do you know what happens when you interfere in Bratva business?” I applied more pressure, grinding my foot deep into his sternum.
He choked, gasping for air, his hands clutching at me with desperation.
“You die.” I whipped out my gun and pressed it into his forehead, pulling the hammer back.
“Wait! Wait! Wait!” he rasped, his pupils swallowed by fear. “Please.”
A word like that from a man like him would have been extremely difficult to utter.
I had two options before me. Kill him, or show mercy.
Usually, mercy was something I did not possess.
But in situations like this, I thought five moves ahead.
Killing him now with no one to witness it, or understand the reason as to why, would only cause more problems for us.
We had a lot of shit to worry about. We didn’t need to add another enemy onto our list.