Chapter Eighteen
In which retaliation and sibling dynamics are tricky things.
Roman…
The night before…
"I'll give you this, you're thorough."
Dmitri and our cousin Nikandr are watching the conflagration across the street, as the Morales jewelry store disintegrates into ash. The flames reach greedy fingers up into the sky, reflecting off the windows in the building surrounding it in violent reds and yellows.
The firemen are focusing on getting the blaze under control.
It's clear there's nothing left to salvage.
The thought of priceless diamonds being ground underneath the firefighter's boots as they go through the structure fills me with the kind of happiness I save for complicated assassinations or the downfall of an enemy crime empire
For once, Dmitri isn't wearing a suit, which is shocking. I've always wanted to ask his wife Ava if he sleeps in full Tom Ford office wear. He's in sweatpants and a T-shirt, arms folded, and watching the ruin of Morales' precious jewelry store.
Nikandr is wearing a suit, reeking of whiskey and expensive perfume, which makes me think there's a disappointed girl somewhere in Manhattan, mourning her date night abruptly cut short.
"I miss the old days," Nikandr says. "When we'd cut off the head of one of his captains and drop it off at his front door."
"Yeah, well," I say, "it seems he needs a stronger lesson."
Dmitri sighs, getting into his SUV as we join him. "The question is, while we know he's targeting Violet now, the motivation doesn't seem clear. He's trying to exploit a weakness he sees in you. But why not just order her death? Why does he want her alive?"
The SUV turns the corner and the satisfying glow of my fire fades.
Nikandr shrugs. "Holding her for ransom? Trying to pull a concession out of us?"
"The other problem." My hands tighten into fists. "Someone's feeding him information or he wouldn't have known Violet was in the car with me today. That truck was ready. They didn't just get lucky. I'm doubling security on the house."
"What about moving her and the girls to another location?" Dmitri says.
I tap my fingers on the armrest. "I've thought about it," I admit.
"Maybe even taking them to St. Petersburg.
But I'm guessing Morales is either stepping up his game because of his special brand of stupid overconfidence, or he's secured new backing from another organization.
He'd never attempt this kind of aggression on his own.
It might be better to let him bring the fight to me. "
"I've been examining the risk assessment reports," Dmitri says. "Is there anything new that you're tracking that we haven't talked about?"
"The Italians have been surprisingly quiet," I say.
"But with them, that's not necessarily a bad thing.
There's some noise from the Dyson syndicate down in Florida, they're looking to expand north, but they know better than to step on our toes.
The Albanians look like they've been trying to unite their families with a marriage pact, but they fight too much to come to any kind of agreement. "
Nikandr laughs. "I'd give up my Maserati to be a guest at that unholy union. I'd be taking bets on how long it'll be before the shooting starts."
"Father," I hesitate. "Father seems surprisingly hands off with all of this. Traditionally, he wants reports every day."
"Oh, he's been reading them," Dmitri assures me. "The Six Families in Russia are causing drama because that's what we Russians do. Frankly, I'm grateful that he's acting as the elder statesman because I would've stabbed one of them by now."
I give a low whistle. "And Father thinks you're the most stable and controlled of us?"
He runs his hand wearily over his face. "I haven't had more than a couple hours of sleep since we had the baby. Lev's louder than a foghorn, and the boy does not believe in rest. More specifically, he's against the idea of Ava or me getting any."
Nikandr leans over, helping himself to Dmitri's bar. "Hearing you talk about the joys of fatherhood is the best birth control I could have." Dmitri's glare is diminished when Nikander hands him a glass of vodka, too.
I pour my own.
"Do you want to split up responsibilities here?" Nikandr continues. "Since my father is busy with yours in Russia, I can pick up some of the slack."
Dmitri runs a finger along his lower lip, eyeing our cousin. "Uncle Yuri mentioned something about the Nonaka group wanting to open discussions regarding military drones’ sales. Do you know anything about it?"
Nikandr smiles over his glass of vodka. "I went to school with Haru, his oldest son. I'm happy to put in some calls."
"For a second there, you looked uncannily like Uncle Yuri," I say. "Are you going for your dad's job as Sovietnik?"
Our cousin stays silent as Dmitri turns to me. "We all work together in this family," he says.
"Oh believe me, I appreciate it." I smile graciously at my smirking cousin, who is about to get his nuts punched. "It gives me more time to work on this side of the business. I'm happy to push all the paperwork your way."
Nikandr's smile stays. "Good. What's the use of working for the Bratva with an empty desk, bored out of my fucking mind? Work has been so slow, I've been regretting that I didn't go to law school like Andrey."
Dmitri laughs. "One legal shark in the family is enough. Andrey's been scaring the shit out of all the senior attorneys. I think they named him head counsel in self-defense so he'd stop threatening them."
"You have to respect that," I say, nodding thoughtfully. "He got his foot on the neck of the legal department within six years. That kind of ruthlessness? That's 100% Morozov."
Dmitri raises his glass. "To family," he says. "First, and always."
We all tap our glasses together, but there's an expression on my brother's face that I can't quite decipher.
The extra emphasis on family in the toast. Does he think I've been neglecting my duties for Violet and her protection?
Thinking back on all the care he lavished on Ava last year when he saved her from the human trafficking ring, I think not.
Love turned him into a sentimental fool.
My brother is too reasonable to begrudge me the same. Violet is precious, her safety is-
I love her.
Well, shit.
***
Iisus Khristos - Russian for Jesus Christ.