Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
I leaned back, avoiding Dayton’s fist with ease and rammed my knee into his stomach. He hunched over, his eyes wide, a pain-filled groan falling from his lips. I drove my elbow into his back, flattening him to the ground, and took three steps back.
“Again,” I barked, not the least bit impressed with his efforts so far.
For the last hour we’d been sparring in the ring. Though I wouldn’t even call it that. Dayton was swinging his arms around like an uncoordinated idiot, just hoping one of his hits would land while I moved around him, blocking and evading his strikes.
I had to give it to the kid though, what he lacked in fighting skills, he made up for with willpower and determination. I half expected him to demand a break within the first thirty seconds. But he kept getting up, more determined each time to try to land a blow.
I was still frustrated over my interaction with Drea last night, and I knew I was taking some of that frustration out on Dayton.
I had no idea what had caused the drastic change in her.
It made no sense to me. The night before last she’d been all over me, literally grinding in my fucking lap.
Now she wouldn’t even look at me without prompting.
That sassy attitude that made my dick hard as a rock was gone and in its place was a cold, hard, ice queen.
One that refused to engage in conversation with me unless absolutely necessary.
Dayton’s arms shook as he tried to push himself off the floor, his teeth clenched and eyes locked on me, glaring with the promise of retribution. Of revenge.
The warehouse door swung open and Father walked in, heading straight towards me. I held in a sigh. The look on his face told me I wouldn’t like where this conversation was going to go. He wore one of his dark three-piece suits, his face clean shaven and not a single hair out of place.
“Father,” I acknowledged with a slight tilt of my head.
Dayton tried to take advantage of the situation. Maybe he thought since I wasn’t looking at him, he could finally land a strike—or that my father’s intimidating presence might throw me off.
None of that happened.
Dayton ran at me and threw a right hook, aiming for my face. I ducked and drove the heel of my palm into his solar plexus. He cried out, hands flying to his chest as he flew back, landing in a heap on the floor.
I straightened, my focus still on Father. “Dare I ask what’s caused the look on your face?”
Father’s glare held a note of parental reprimand. “Why is the Zeta woman locked in one of our guest bedrooms?”
Ah. I suppose I should have expected that. This morning when I woke up Father was already gone, so I hadn’t had the chance to tell him about Drea yet.
“Have you seen Nik today?”
Dayton lashed out with a kick and I blocked it, wrapping my arm around his calf. He wobbled unsteadily on his other foot, trying to keep his balance as he attempted to yank his leg out of my grasp. I timed it and let go at the exact right moment, causing him to fall back and land hard on his ass.
“God fucking damn it!” Dayton cursed.
“No, why?” Father frowned, completely ignoring Dayton’s attempts to hit me. It was like he wasn’t even there.
“He found out some very…interesting information last night.”
“Such as?”
“That woman in our guest bedroom is the leader of The Los Zetas.”
Father blinked, the briefest flash of surprise streaking across his face. “Say again?”
“Drea Ortega is the daughter of El Diablo, Don Andres,” I clarified, blocking another strike from Dayton. “After he died, she took over and now runs the cartel.” I twisted Dayton’s arm behind his back and shoved him away, making him growl in frustration.
“How reliable is this information?”
“She confirmed it, so I’d say pretty reliable.”
“Hmm.” Father’s brows drifted into a hard frown. “That changes things.”
I grunted in agreement. Like me, Father understood the repercussions of having the leader of one of the most violent and bloodthirsty syndicates locked away in our house.
Before Alessandro approached us, we’d had very little to no contact with The Los Zetas. We were aware of each other, like predators out in the wild, keenly aware of where the lines of our territory began and ended, but that was the extent of it.
They primarily dealt in hardcore, high quality drugs that we had no interest in, so there was never any reason to build an alliance with them.
“I thought you found her chained to a bed in Nero’s house? Explain to me how that kusok der’ma, piece of shit, managed to do that?”
I relayed the information I’d learnt last night from Drea while blocking more of Dayton’s attacks, slapping him upside the head in return each time the opportunity presented itself. It was too tempting to miss. His face reddened with embarrassment and anger each time.
The amusement bubbling within me at his expense was unexpected. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so much fun sparring before.
“He used her as leverage, threatened to kill her if the cartel didn’t do exactly as he said.
It was what he would have done with Illayana too, if we hadn’t rescued her.
” I ducked underneath Dayton’s fist and sidekicked him, sending him sprawling to the ground.
“You’re done,” I told Dayton, taking pity on him.
“Thank God,” he groaned, staying flat on his back.
I faced Father, draping my arms over the top rope. At the mention of Illayana’s kidnapping, a thunderstorm of anger rolled over his face. He was still mad Arturo took that kill away from him.
“We need to tread very carefully here. So far, the playing field is even. We’ve killed some of their men, they’ve killed some of ours. There’s an opportunity to part amicably, but if we kill her, harm her in any way, we’ll find ourselves in an all-out war with the cartel.”
Father narrowed his eyes. “You think we should let her go.” It wasn’t a question. His voice held an accusatory tilt to it, like the mere thought was an act of betrayal.
I sighed, jumping down from the ring. Father wasn’t an emotional man unless it involved his children. His anger over what happened to Illayana, the Zetas’ involvement in it, was clouding his judgement. Otherwise he would have realised what I did already.
“What I think is Grandfather is due here in a matter of days, and it might not be a good idea to start a war when it can be avoided. We’ve got enough on our plate as it is with Dominik and Rayna, the burning of our building, our alliance with the Cosa Nostra in their war against the Outfit and The Dirty Vultures.
The last thing we need is to add the Zetas to that list.”
Father studied me, an odd look shimmering in his eyes. “What would you suggest we do, moy syn? My son?”
There was something more to his question, something lying deep in the undertones of his words that I couldn’t quite figure out.
“I think we should contact Juan, her brother and current second, to arrange a sit down and come to an agreement.”
“A truce.” Father rolled the word over his tongue, like it caused him physical pain to even say it.
Dimitri Volkov didn’t do truces . He demolished his enemies with an animalistic ferocity. He didn’t sit down and make peace with them.
“An agreement,” I repeated, giving him a hard stare.
“You know as well as I do, we don’t have the men to fight on five different fronts.
Maybe four, but not five. We need to eliminate one of the risks.
I’ve thought long and hard about this. The Zetas are the obvious choice.
In exchange for letting Drea go, we demand a ceasefire and all contact with the Outfit to stop. ”
“And what makes you think they’d honour that?” Father asked, the scepticism in his voice clear as day.
I thought back to Drea, to everything I knew about her.
Everything I’d witnessed so far. She was fiery.
Hot-headed. Prideful. And incredibly smart.
She was focused, with the mind of a leader and a natural born alpha charisma that put men three times her size in their place.
Above all, she knew how our world worked, where the cartel sat on the board.
They were fierce but small. She’d know how outgunned they were, that it would be in the best interest for her and her people to make a deal with us.
Especially when I made her realise that, regardless of the reasons, they were the ones who drew first blood.
We were well within our rights to kill them all.
“She would honour it,” I answered confidently.
Father watched me closely, a few tense seconds passing before he finally spoke. “Alright,” he nodded. “Contact them, organise the sit down and handle it.”
I kept the surprise I felt hidden but it wormed its way into every cell of my being.
As Father’s second, I had a wealth of responsibilities. I kept track and maintained all our accounts, the money and the inventory. I oversaw the transfer and training of all our men. I packed and distributed our orders. All on top of handling the usual day-to-day tasks.
The one thing Father had yet to let me handle on my own was the sit downs with other rival syndicates.
He firmly believed that as Pakhan it was his duty, his responsibility to be there, front and centre at every negotiation, every alliance we formed.
He was the face of the Bratva, and anyone we worked with needed to see that.
This would be the first time he wasn’t present at an important sit down. I knew what it meant, understood the significance of what he was asking of me.
And I was so fucking ready.
“Consider it done.”
Father nodded. “Any progress on finding out who’s responsible for burning our building?”
I clenched my jaw. “No. There were no fingerprints on the device they used that started the fire. No camera footage. Nothing.”
“I suspected as much.” Concern flashed across his face. “Another two buildings burned down yesterday.”
Shock slammed into me. “You’re joking.”