Chapter Twenty-One - Akim
“We are getting hit harder than expected, and it’s taking its toll, Akim. They won’t agree to a meeting,” Boris advises. I’m gathered with my brothers and my immediate team in an old warehouse. A crisis meeting has been called to figure out a game plan.
Blowing out my cigar, I set it on the edge of the ashtray, taking a sip of vodka. “Who did you speak to? Not a soldier, I hope. We want to talk to their consigliere to mediate. Surely, he would have been open to it.”
Boris sighs, shaking his head. “No. His name is Antonio Genovese, but he’s not open to discussion. They want our spot, and they’re prepared to take it. The old guy was mighty cocky about it too.”
“They’ve got extra numbers hidden somewhere. That’s the only way they would turn down a meeting with us. We own Chicago, but the bars are being hit every night now with vandals, and the cops are threatening to close a couple of them down,” Luka explains.
Stroking my chin, I shake my head. I’m used to everything running like clockwork in the city, and doors flying wide open for us. The Utkins have had a monopoly on the city since the Omerta Files emerged. The great irony is, those files were stolen by us from an American Mafia faction.
“So, the Genoveses are out for blood and warfare. We can give them plenty of warfare with all the weaponry we have on board, but it’s trickier than that. We can’t just bomb the city and civilians. We lose power that way. We have the military, the police, and important government officials working with us,” I remind those at the table of the smoke-filled room.
“And that’s a weakness in a way. These fuckers are able to move freely and don’t have our ties,” Luka advises.
“Yes. Maybe so on the surface, but we can utilize those connections and stamp the faction out. All we have to do is find out who the major players are,” I tell him, keeping a cool head. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had an all-out war on the ground.” The last time the Bratva faced such a challenge was at the end of the ’80s when we were conquerors invading enemy territory. And like history, it’s time for a resurgence, but as long as I’m in power, we won’t let some new American faction crumple the empire we’ve worked so hard to build. I refuse.
I toke on my cigar, considering all the angles, but I’m not worried. We’ve dealt with similar issues on a smaller scale than this. One of my trusted thieves and captain of the same crew who protected our warehouse slides a set of glossy photographs in front of me.
“Thank you, Veer. What are these?”
“You asked for more information on the new American faction. They’re responsible for the vandalism, the break-ins to the weaponry warehouse, and general harassment of my soldiers on the ground. Ryurik’s having trouble with them too in his clubs. They’ve been switching out his drugs for poor product, and he’s had the cops down there,” Veer reports.
“Rat infestation. Sounds identical to old-school tactics we would employ,” I muse. “Slowly become nuisances and break down the system in order to wreak havoc and rattle the enemy. Very good.”
“What are you talking about ‘very good’?” Luka retorts angrily as I hold on to the photos.
“You’re too hot-headed. Cool off. Study them as we study them. We’ve done the same when we started until we wore the enemy down. Don’t you see?” Luka drums his fingers on the table. He’s rightfully worried about the Pakhan stepping in and directing us, but I plan on putting a stop to this little game before it goes too far.
My focus returns to the glossy photographs I’ve just been handed. I squint, barely able to see them as I spread the contents out in front of me. “Turn the floodlight on, would you? I can’t see these,” I tell him. The lighting’s poor on purpose so as to maintain privacy over our secret meeting spot and not bring attention to ourselves. Although I have heavily armed guards ready to kill, I’d prefer we didn’t have to use force.
Once the light floods the room, I peer at the photos and in a split second I know who it is. The side profile of a guy walking in a leather jacket with dirty-blond hair and a purposeful stride right out front of Sky Lever. I know because I see my blue lights in the background of the picture. A storm of fury brews inside me, the picture becoming a blurred haze.
“Fucking Ethan Myers.” I’m ready to burst into flames. No wonder the guy approached me the way he did without caring for his life.
“Boss, you know about him already?” Boris replies in a shocked voice, the room quiet.
“Yes. I know him. He tried to hit on Kiara in front of me. Unfortunately, she dated the rat in university. That’s why he was there. This is open fire. Is that his real fucking name?” I bark, losing my temper.
“No.” Studying the other photos, I see him in other settings, all of them incriminating and connected to the warehouse, and me and my cousin’s clubs. “His name is Ethan Perelli. He’s the son of Matthias Perelli. He used to be the Don of a defunct faction back in the ’90s, but they used to run guns and drugs through the South Side. Made a real name for themselves here until most of them ended up in jail or dead,” Veer explains, the jigsaw puzzle coming together.
But all I can think about is Kiara and how he dared to hit on my wife. How he had access to her before me. I’m glad he didn’t take her virginity, because if he had, then it would break me. “Explains it. Who has he joined forces with, Veer?”
“The Genoveses. We know what they do. Illegal gambling rackets. Nothing to do with us, but combined, they probably think they can overthrow us.”
Unable to control myself, I stand up, swiping the photographs off the table, ashtrays flying against the wall.
“Easy, Akim. We can handle this guy,” Luka remarks. “And you told me not to get out of hand.”
“Shut up,” I warn, my head getting in the way of rational thought. “Boris. Where is Kiara now? When we were at the estate, he talked about not being done with her. This is what he meant.” Blood pumps through my veins at a rapid rate, the vein in my head pulsing with rage. He’s not going to have any claim over her. None whatsoever. Kiara is my property and will always be my property.
“Let me get onto security and find out,” Boris quips as he pulls out his phone.
“How strong is their army?” I ask Veer.
“Strong. I heard on the grapevine there’s talk about all the rival gangs reforming and joining with them. That’s where the firepower is coming from,” Veer relays as the information gets worse.
“Yeah, makes sense. On the South Side is where Ryurik supplies guns and from what I’ve heard, orders have decreased. They aren’t buying from us as much. Could be because of the Genoveses.”
Numb to the noise of who’s involved now, all I care about is getting to Kiara and killing Ethan. “What’s Ethan’s background?” I ask the room, and Veer answers.
“He’s got a background in computers, but in the third year he dropped out and started running gambling rackets in Vegas with his father. Apparently, they have connections in New York and Boston as well. I’ve never heard about them running guns, though.”
Shaking with fury, I listen to Boris on the phone, waiting for him to give me the information I want. “I don’t care what he’s doing. Veer, get our best on the streets, and I’m going to add extra security across the board. Let me talk to Ryurik.”
“Good. Want me to start on it tonight?” Veer asks as I nod my head, anger overcoming me as I guzzle the vodka.
“Yes. If you see this fucker. Don’t kill him. Bring him to me.” I want a face-to-face with the man who dares to think he can take what’s mine.
“Done.”
“Keep your phones on. I’ll be giving you strict instructions for every move. We have to move together to defeat this faction. Right now, they’re weak, pulling their army together, trying different tactics, and this is the time to take them out before they grow stronger.” After my speech, we all peel out into the hazy Chicago night.
“Boris. What do you have?” I ask as we walk to our cars. For a moment, Boris doesn’t talk, setting my anger to a new level. Snatching him up, near the car I glare in his face. “Answer!”
“I don’t have anything. The bodyguard who’s been with her isn’t answering his phone. Sorry, Boss.”
I’m losing it over Kiara, and I know it but don’t know why. Maybe it’s because she’s never fully allowed herself to be my possession. Or maybe it’s because I can’t find her, and another man wants her the way I do. Whatever the reason, I’ve got to regain control.
Raking a hand through my hair in frustration, I ball my fists up wanting to hurt someone. Anyone. “Alright. I’m going home. She might be in the penthouse. Kiara’s good at evading people when she doesn’t want to be found. Call me when you find out her whereabouts and get more men following her. Sorry, I lost it a little,” I tell Boris.
What the fuck is going on with me? I don’t apologize for anything. “Don’t worry about it. Call you in the car, Boss.” Boris and I head our separate ways, as I peer through the dark looking for enemies. With my shoulders tense, and my sixth sense kicking in, something tells me Kiara won’t be found.
Driving through the traffic, I call my men on the ground and one by one they tell me they haven’t seen her. But inform me about attacks in broad daylight.
I’ve got to take the little fucker’s faction down before he gets stronger.
Parts of me are cracking, the suspended answer about Kiara’s disappearance driving me insane, and it’s not until I’m close to the garage of the penthouse that I can get an answer.
“Boris.”
“Bad news, Boss. Kiara’s missing. And I can’t get ahold of her bodyguard; he’s not answering his phone. None of the team can find her.”
I hold my composure, but the loud drumbeat in my chest, coupled with blood rushing through my ears is distracting. “Find Kiara. Do it now. When we find her, we find Ethan.”
Kiara and I both have the wrong skeletons hanging in our closets, and they’re catching up with us.