Chapter Twenty
In which Alec and Alastair do business with an old friend. Also, guns.
Alec…
Fee was lying in my bed, cackling as she switched between coverage of the ashen-faced mayor of Lynn, Massachusetts being escorted out of his office in handcuffs, and a Lee Ville Industries spokesperson standing at a fair distance from Leevil’s dye factory in Canada, stumbling over a weak statement about the “unfortunate incident” that closed the factory for an “undetermined period of time.”
I shrugged on my suit jacket and she glanced up. “Where are you going? I thought we were going to…” her knees spread invitingly, “...celebrate. Again.”
“And again, and again, darling.” I groaned as I leaned down to kiss her. “However, even though I’m enjoying our revenge crime spree, I do have other legitimate and non-legitimate activities to attend to. Do you think you can hold off from sowing chaos and mayhem without me for the remainder of the evening?”
My required ‘activities’ currently involved overseeing a massive shipment of weapons from Eastern Europe, but I had no intention of sharing this information with Fee.
Her grin faded as she examined my expression. “You know, I’m beginning to…” she sounded like she was gargling gravel, “like you. I’m pretty certain that the more I know about what you do the less I’m going to be able to put up with you. ”
I knotted my tie in the massive mirror hung near the bed. I could see her behind me, her expression grave. “It’s possible,” I agreed. I sounded cold and indifferent, I knew that. But I was responsible for all the men and women who worked for me, who’d risked their lives for my mafia. I’d wasted too much time at the bottom of a bottle and self-pity after the revelations with Alastair and my mother two months ago, and it was time to focus.
Prowling across the room, I leaned over her, planting one hand on either side of her and caging her in. “I suspect that you have witnessed far more dirty dealings in your role in corporate security than the more… straightforward criminal activity I conduct.” Fee listened to me with her full attention and her eyes searching mine. “There are things I can’t change. I can never walk away from what I do, or who I am.”
“In the same way I can’t,” she reluctantly agreed. “But I do believe that we are more alike than we think.”
Kissing her, I let myself enjoy her lush mouth, her fingers sliding into my hair and gripping it lightly. There was a similarity to us that I could never have anticipated. Not just in bed - though these moments with Fee were spectacular, filthy, and carnal in a way I’d never experienced - but that we both had our own perverse sense of justice that matched beautifully with the other’s.
Perhaps… it was enough to build upon.
“You’re pensive this evening.” Alastair eyed me curiously as we pulled into our private docks and warehouse area near South Dock in Rotherhithe where we were meeting the Pakhan of the Kovalenko Bratva.
“Is that your transparent way of prodding into my personal life? I thought your ambush with Sorcha the other day would be enough.”
“You do know I’m never giving up on you, yes? It seems like you hate me somewhat less than you did.” His tone was humorous, but his expression was a bit pained.
“As much as it nauseates me to agree with you, you are correct,” I said stiffly. “I… I have a better understanding now of what it is to start as enemies and end as something else.”
A huge grin split his face and I instantly regretted saying a word. “Would this new revelation be due to a certain Irish… Scottish… woman of indeterminate origin based on whatever accent she uses on any given day?”
“What you just said makes absolutely no sense, but if you’re referring to Fee, you would be correct.” I glanced out the window, hoping for the Kovalenko cargo ship to pull into the harbor and end this conversation. “Nothing is as black and white as it was. And it’s fucking infuriating.”
“Yes, welcome to a functioning relationship, brother,” he said, patting my shoulder in a condescending way that made me want to break his wrist. “It feels like your sanity’s being pulled in two different directions, doesn’t it?”
“Something like that, yes,” I sighed.
“Do you think you and your acid-tongued environmentalist have a future? Sorcha would certainly be happy to hear it. She’s lonely here in London and those two got along well, as completely dissimilar as they are.”
“I’m not responsible for your wife’s-”
“-and your sister’s-”
“-social life.” I finished, hastily opening my door. “Oh, look. Kovalenko is making port.”
“This conversation isn’t finished!” Alastair called after me.
“Vitayu, druzhe. Yak proyshla podorozh? Greetings, my friend. How was the journey over?”
“Eh. We ran into a squall. Half my crew crossed the Atlantic vomiting over the side of the boat.” Dmytro Kovalenko laughed, gripping me in a bear hug that lifted me off my feet. I’m several inches taller than Dmytro but he was built like a bull, so that gave him the edge.
He turned to Alastair. “Alastair Taylor, my good friend!” I stifled a grin as he was also vigorously squeezed to the point where I could hear his ribs creak.
“Vitayu, Dmytro,” he wheezed, “a pleasure as always. Though we do wish you’d meet us in London so we could show you proper hospitality.”
Dmytro waved his hand, “You know your Interpol. Always making such a fuss. It seems like too much trouble when we can talk and share a pint on board.”
The Pakhan of the Kovalenko Bratva was a very hands-on sort of leader. He personally oversaw all his own arms shipments and could model for the cover of Rugged Sea Captain Monthly . The man was always clad in a heavy black sweater and cap with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He exuded cheerful goodwill, but I’d seen him - more than once - put that cigarette out in the eye of a man who’d displeased him. Subtly searching the faces of his crew, I didn’t see any eye patches, so perhaps they’d all behaved on this trip.
As our men and his loaded the cases of Makarov pistols and KSVK sniper rifles into our trucks, Dmytro invited us on board. “To friendship!” he shouted, liberally pouring shot glasses of vodka so strong that I could feel my liver groan in dismay as I drank it down.
“You must see my new toy,” he said, pulling out a monstrously large rifle. “It is an updated version of the Avtomat Kalashnikov, a gas-operated assault rifle with twice the shooting distance as the original.” He kissed the barrel, then aimed it at a tree, barely visible, on the other side of the harbor. We covered our ears just in time as he fired off a round of bullets. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left of the tree but splinters.
“Thank god you intervened,” Alastair said dryly. “That tree was coming right at us.”
Dmytro roared with laughter, petting the gunstock fondly. “I can include three cases of these modified beauties in your shipment, if you like. Try them out.”
“We would be delighted,” I said, “for the low, low price of…?”
“Triple the price of the KSVKs,” he said, grin stretching to feral proportions.
“Imagine what the price would be if we weren’t friends?” Alastair murmured.
“I would not offer them to you if we were not friends,” Dmytro said. His gaze swung to me. “You, Alec Davies, are a controversial figure.”
“Have you heard something I should know?” I asked.
He scratched the back of his neck. “There is talk. Nothing substantial, but if I hear of a direct threat, I will contact you.”
I held out my hand. “That’s greatly appreciated, my friend.”
We shook hands and his gaze moved past us to a Bentley cautiously rounding the corner of the farthest warehouse. “If you will excuse me, I have another meeting tonight. Do not be concerned, they will not leave the car.”
“Anyone we know?” Alastair asked, frowning.
The Pakhan lit another cigarette from the one still burning in his mouth, then spitting the butt out and replacing it with the new one. “Not in this… what is the word? Not in this context. Goodnight.”
“Bezpechni podorozhi, safe travels.” I said, slapping his shoulder as we turned to leave.
As we returned to the Range Rover, I watched him stride toward the Bentley. The door opened and the interior light shone off the blonde hair of a stunning woman, smiling at him coyly as he pounced on her, slamming the door shut.
“Was that…?” Alastair started laughing.
“It was,” I said, “Lady Marie, the Duke of Westminster’s daughter.”
“I’ll be damned,” he said, “no wonder he has no interest in our hospitality.”
The drive home was silent, but more companionable, like old times between us.
“Dmytro’s comment at the end,” Alastair said. “It was odd, referring to you as controversial. As in, more than usual? Do you think the fun and games with Leevil are getting too much notice in our world?”
I ran my finger along my lower lip. “One of Dmytro’s many talents is information.”
“He said he would contact you if chatter turned into a threat. Still, it’s worth taking Lucy or Terrence off tormenting Leevil and putting them back on information gathering.”
“Agreed,” I said. “Now, let’s go home and separate Fee and Sorcha before they implement their master plan to take over the world.”