41. Alexei #3
Well, you won’t listen to me when I’m inside your head, motherfucker. I had to get your attention somehow.
“Phantom didn’t matter to Lars at all,” Mickey goes on.
“What mattered to him was you. Phantom meant that you could finally see a future that didn’t involve putting corpses into the Everglades.
And despite being hopelessly in love with you himself,” he says grimly, “Lars knew it was Ofelia who’d given you that future.
He was furious that I’d jeopardized that by getting between you. ”
I stare at him hollowly. Am I the only fucking person who didn’t know how Lars felt?
“I apologized for what I said on the yacht because I thought I was wrong,” Mickey says.
“And I came here to help secure the future I jeopardized. But if all you plan to do is blow it sky-high and run away, Alexei, then it was all for nothing. I can’t force you to make that future a reality,” he says bitterly.
“But I can refuse to help you destroy it. Let me know when you’ve made a decision. ”
Wrenching the door open, he stalks away without waiting for an answer.
I’m left standing in the middle of the room, my head spinning.
I’m torn between reluctant admiration and righteous anger.
The same instincts that have kept me alive for so many years tell me the anger is misplaced—and unfair.
It also tells me that maybe it’s time to think about the reasons behind the admiration—and to pay attention to the sudden, electric tingling of an idea.
An idea which just might be a way out of this.
“So in a couple of days I’ll be dressed in a monkey suit, pressing the flesh of Miami’s finest.” Roman gives me a wry smile as we walk down to the compound’s rear dock.
He and Dimitry have been moving between their penthouse suite and the compound by boat to avoid watching eyes.
“And several hours after that, you’ll be done in Miami—for a long time, if not for good.
” He glances sideways at me. “Are you sure about this, Lex? Law enforcement might temporarily turn their heads to get the job done, but we both know there are too many bodies in that swamp to keep them turned after their own interests have been served. Miami is likely finished for you.”
“Miami was finished for me either way.”
Unless I involve your son, that is.
Unfortunately, I have a pretty good idea of exactly how Roman is likely to react to my idea.
I’ve already taken his daughter. If I know Roman, he’ll see my proposal as a way of taking his son, too.
“Do you remember,” he says slowly, as we approach the dock, “the last time we were here together?”
Ofelia, her dress torn and leg broken, holding Masha close as Roman pushes them into the inflatable, covering them with his own body as the Orlovs close in . . .
Roman pointing his gun at me, death in his eyes . . .
Ofelia screaming, “No!” while I order my men to get them out of there . . .
“Yes.” My voice is slightly unsteady. “I remember.”
“I saw you coming at us,” Roman says, “and I thought we were done for. I had my gun on you. My finger was on the trigger. Then I heard the girls yelling at me to leave you alone, that you were their friend. And suddenly Mickey was in my face, with a fucking rifle in his hand, no less, yelling don’t do it.
” His mouth stretches in a reluctant smile.
“I was so shocked that I actually listened.”
A decision I bet you’ve regretted more than once lately.
And one he’ll likely regret a whole lot more if I tell him what’s on my mind.
“That day was the first time Mickey actually killed a man.”
He smiles grimly at my surprise. “You probably don’t remember it, because you were so focused on getting the girls to safety.
But there were Orlov men coming hard behind you.
Mickey leaned out of that chopper and took two of them down without hesitation.
” He stares at the dock, his eyes distant.
“Sometimes,” he says slowly, “I think that was the day everything changed. I just didn’t know it then. ”
Say it, motherfucker. I hear Lars’s voice in my head. Do it—or there might never be another chance.
“I have an idea that might change everything again.” I face Roman squarely and brace for impact. “An idea that also involves Mickey.”
His mouth curls. “Let me guess—your idea relates to the server center you’ve built underneath us? Even if Mak hadn’t let the cat out of the bag, I spent a decade building Mercura. I know the scale of what I’m looking at.”
“That’s part of it, yes,” I answer evenly. “But we both know it takes more than just keyboard skills to build what you did. Mickey might not be your blood, but he is your son, Roman. He’s part of our world. And we both know that means sooner or later he’s going to get his hands dirty.”
His mouth hardens. “Mickey can handle himself. His men know he can handle himself. That’s enough. And it’s all I want for him of our fucking world.”
But I can hear the edge beneath his voice. The roughness that betrays his own fears, the ones men keep to themself in the dead of night.
The things we know to be true, whether we say them or not.
“I know you’ve let Mickey pull the trigger before,” I say, “just so his men know he can. But Mickey knows that isn’t enough—and so do the men around him.
It’s why he’s been up before dawn, training in jujitsu, since he was a teenager.
Why he’s pushed himself to be more than just a keyboard warrior.
It’s why even his partying was done with Lars Andersson, while they thought up new projects, rather than just messing around in bars with his crew. ”
Over the last couple of days I’ve allowed myself to acknowledge a lot that I’ve noticed about Mickey over the years. “The truth is that Mickey is an empire builder,” I say slowly. “Just like you—or Lars, or me. Whatever that hunger is, Roman, Mickey fucking has it.”
“Hunger isn’t enough,” he says harshly. “You, of all people, know what it takes to build what we both did.”
“Yes, I do.” I match his tone. “And I also know that without the hell we went through, neither of us would ever have been able to do it. Sooner or later, Mickey is going to walk through the fires himself.”
Roman stares at me in astonishment. “I didn’t endure that hell just to stand back and watch Mickey fucking volunteer for it.”
I can’t help smiling at that. “I said almost those exact words to him. Among others.” My smile fades. “He didn’t listen, by the way. Even used my own fucking words on me, the little prick. He said he wasn’t asking my permission,” I explain in answer to Roman’s expression.
“Ha.” He shoots me a dark glance. “Not the first time I’ve heard that lately.
” He puts his hands on his hips, staring out at the bay.
“I knew this was coming,” he says quietly.
“Even before Lourdes dumped him over the phone. I just kept hoping that he’d choose algorithms over ammunition.
I still want that for him. Not this fucking life. ”
“Unfortunately,” I say quietly, “this fucking life is going to keep coming for him, whether you want it to or not.”
Roman folds his arms, eyeing me like he’s still considering knocking me into the water. “You’re suggesting he take over Miami,” he says flatly. “In your place.”
“I understand that you’ve no reason to trust me.
” I don’t bother denying it. “Despite that, you’ve shown me more forgiveness than most men would—and a hell of a lot more support than I deserve.
I don’t expect that kind of grace twice.
So I won’t offer anything to Mickey without your permission. On that you have my word.”
Roman gives a derisive laugh. “Big of you.”
Fair point.
“Mickey has already seen a lot,” I go on.
“Usually as a bystander, caught up in events he can’t control.
But on that yacht he wasn’t a bystander.
Now he’s no longer willing to stand by, behind a keyboard or otherwise.
” I meet his eyes. “And I don’t think you should expect him to.
We both know there’s no place in our world for bystanders. ”
Roman stares at me for a long time.
Then he exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Never have children.” He gives me a resigned look. “Forget that. You fucking deserve to have them, you asshole.”
“Does that mean I can speak to Mickey?”
He gives me a sour look. “Like you weren’t going to anyway.”
I don’t bother arguing with that.
“When I left this cesspit of a fucking city,” he says, staring out at the bay, “I swore I’d never come back. When I finally did, I wound up here, with my daughters bleeding and my gun pointed at you.”
I look sideways at him. “Do you regret not pulling the trigger?”