23. Kai
Twenty-Three
Kai
After briefly stopping by Father Peter's office and explaining that someone had snapped a picture at the exact moment I promised Mary I wasn't going anywhere, the old priest just laughed.
Actually laughed.
“Bad timing, son. Or very good timing,” he'd said with a grin.
Then, he clasped my shoulder.
“Congratulations on the upcoming nuptials.”
I blinked.
“Father, we haven't actually discussed—”
“Nonsense. I've seen that look before. You'll be married by Christmas.”
The old man winked.
And then, because apparently everyone in my life has lost their minds, he promised not to tell anyone until we made the official announcement.
A white lie?
Maybe.
But considering I plan on keeping the little redheaded teacher forever?
Marriage seems like the logical conclusion—which brings me back to my current mood.
This stupid motherfucker.
I'm mad.
No, that’s not good enough.
I'm beyond mad.
I am spitting mad.
Seething, furious, enraged—all of the above.
The kind of angry that settles behind your eyes and makes everything look red.
Some asshole started a smear campaign against Mary because she told him no.
Because she refused him.
Because she wouldn't let him put his hands on her.
And now she's had her private life completely exposed and put on public display.
Of course, she’s upset.
Embarrassed.
Questioning herself.
My Firecracker.
The woman who spends her own money buying supplies for kids.
The woman who visits sick parishioners.
The woman who stays after school helping her students any way she can.
Somebody tried to make her look cheap.
They tried to shame her just for being with me.
For revenge.
For his ego.
I don't even realize the passenger door opening until Ego drops into the seat beside me.
He taps the dashboard.
“You packing?”
I glare at him.
“Hand it over.”
I sigh and pull the pistol from the holster at my back.
He takes it immediately.
“Thank you.”
“It doesn't matter.”
“No?”
“No.”
Because what I want to do to Joel Jonas doesn't require a firearm.
Just two fists and possibly a really good lawyer.
And if things somehow go sideways?
Well, let’s just say I’m prepared.
The backup strapped around my ankle remains my little secret.
“He's still at the house,” Ego says.
I nod.
I don't need the address.
I've already been there.
Twice.
“You know what's scary?” I mutter.
“What?”
“I sent you a link to the live feeds on the cameras and bugs I planted around his property.”
Ego slowly turns his head.
“You did this shit without me?”
“Yeah.”
“You fuckhead, Kai! You’re suspended!”
“On leave,” I counter. “And I wasn't ready to involve you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Fine. I didn't want Sabrina yelling at both of us.”
“That actually sounds believable.”
I snort.
“Go to the stored files.”
He's already pulling up his tablet.
“Last night Jonas had company.”
“Who?”
“Arben Sarkisian.”
Ego freezes.
“The son of the Vor of the Sarkisian family?”
“Yes. The son of the leader of that Armenian crime family, rising to the top of the underworld on the whole fucking eastern seaboard! How many other Arben fucking Sarkisians do you know?”
He shrugs.
“Could be common in Armenia. Like John Smith.”
“Dude!”
“What?”
“Shut up and watch.”
I carefully take the next turn, automatically checking my mirrors for a tail.
Years of training.
Can't turn it off.
Beside me, Ego starts whistling.
“Damn. Arben brought muscle.”
“Yep.”
“Listen.”
The audio crackles.
I don’t have to look at the screen to know what’s there.
I’ve watched it already.
Jonas opens the door to his study—the one he thinks is private—and he’s looking nervous.
Following him inside is Arben Sarkisian.
The man smiles like the shark he is.
“I will give you a chance to explain the delay, Jonas, but you should know. My father is not happy.”
“Look, Arben, it’s not my fault,” Jonas says. “The permits were delayed. Complications I couldn’t foresee, but your father is a smart man. He knows I'll deliver.”
Arben says nothing.
Jonas wipes his forehead.
“Did you do the thing we discussed?”
“It has been done. But it comes with a price.”
“Yes, I know. Five percent off my fee, I understand.”
“Then it will be done as planned.”
“Good. Excellent. I'll call next week with news about the construction site.”
The footage ends.
Ego stares at the screen.
“Jesus.”
“I didn't know what that little side deal meant yesterday.”
“But now?”
“Now I know.”
He nods slowly.
“The reporter.”
“Exactly.”
Rosa Vardanyan.
Armenian.
Connected.
“Joel Jonas had his mafia friends smear my girl in the newspaper. Now, that sonovabitch will answer to me.”
Silence fills the truck.
Then Ego suddenly sits upright.
“Stop the truck.”
“What?”
“Now!”
I slam the brakes and throw it into park.
“What?”
“Do you trust me?”
I stare at him.
“You're a pain in my ass, but yeah. I trust you.”
“Good.”
He points at the road ahead.
“Turn here.”
“What? Why?”
“Cause we’re not going to see Jonas.”
“What?”
“Not yet.”
“Ego—”
“No.”
The command in his voice surprises me.
“Think, Kai. You hit him now, he wins.”
“He already won!”
“No, he didn’t. I mean, yes, he embarrassed Mary.”
His expression hardens.
“But if we do this right?”
A slow smile spreads across his face.
“The bastard loses everything.”
I blink.
“What are you thinking?”
“Go to Volkov Towers.”
I stare at him.
“You serious?”
“Completely.”
“We tell the bosses?”
“We tell them everything.”
“The permits.”
“The contractors.”
“Arben.”
“The newspaper.”
“My bugs?”
He grins.
“We'll leave out the part where you're apparently Batman.”
Despite myself, I laugh.
“Fuck you.”
“Love you too, brother.”
I shake my head and throw the truck back into gear.
“Volkov Towers it is.”
Because Joel Jonas made one fatal mistake.
He thought he was attacking a schoolteacher.
He thought he was attacking me.
He had no idea he was about to start a war with Sigma International Security.
And God help him when the Volkov Clan finds out some lowlife councilman threatened one of their kids' teachers.