Chapter Twenty-Six - Ryurik
Taking my lighter, I wait for the orange flame to flicker, lighting the end of my cigar. It’s been a tedious day at the club, but everything’s back on track running smoothly. Downstairs, I watch from the top as the DJ sets up his turntables on level two. My head bartender is surrounded by a semicircle of entrusted staff preparing them for the night. It’s set to be a big one with international DJs coming in to play from all over the globe for a DJ contest, and there’s big money involved for the winner.
Blindside Metro is known for its Battle of the DJs weekend, and this is when we have record crowds on all three levels including the Chicago PD coming in to check we stick to compliance rules and regulations, not overloading the building past capacity numbers, and so forth. I’ve spent all week prepping staff as last year we had three near-death overdoses in two different levels and that wasn’t a good look for me or my operation.
Yes. There’s going to be drugs in the club, but I’ve got better controls and people in place this time to prevent any of that happening again. Billowing smoke fills the office as I look through the one-sided glass once more. All good, but there’s something more important on my mind, and I’m waiting on my messenger to deliver the news.
Setting down my cigar, I sip on my gin, recalibrating the takings from last night and adding more money to the safe. I’m a hands-on owner. I don’t trust anyone else to handle the takings, and if I’m ever short, heads will roll. Not based on anything other than principle. I don’t deal well with staff or people in general taking from me.
A solid knock on the door sounds off. “Come in!” I call out as Jeff Knowles steps inside the door, dressed in jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Nothing about him spells cop.
“Hey, Ryurik.” Waving around the smoke to stop it from hitting him in the face, I point to the chair in front of me.
“Hey yourself. Take a seat. Want a drink?” I ask, peering over at my surveillance setup as more DJs bring their equipment in through the service door entrance.
“Yeah, yeah. I could use a drink. Got any whisky, good man?” he asks, chuckling. Minus the difference in eye color and height, Jeff would do a good job passing for me. Maybe that’s why I had him act as my setup with Emily. It was the ultimate litmus test for loyalty, and I’m about to see if she passed.
“Sure do. Top shelf. Only the best in Blindside.” I head around to the back of the black marble bar, pouring Jeff a drink. “Ice?”
“Yeah. Chicago’s got some smoldering heat thing going on right now.”
Nodding, I chuckle. “Yeah, it does, but do we have any other problems? That’s what I want to know.” Winking at Jeff, I hand him his drink.
“No. You don’t have anything to worry about.” He swirls the ice, taking a long swallow.
“Oh?” My pulse quickens, the pendulum looking to be swinging in my favor. I hoped she would be as loyal as her actions and openness have shown her to be, but I couldn’t be 100 percent sure.
“I pushed her too. She didn’t give you up. She didn’t trust what I was saying to her. And she kept looking around and stuff. Right back into detective mode, I guess. Easy to slip into.”
With a big grin, I nod my head. There’s my loyal, trustworthy wife. Right where I want her to be. She didn’t betray me, even when I laid out the address of where my team buried the body. I left the door wide open for her to betray me, but she didn’t take the option to do it.
“Ah, she didn’t?” I want to hear more about how she handled herself. Hearing that she didn’t rat me out makes me want to give her the world. A deep part of me, believed she might, and then everything between us would have turned to shit.
“She thought I was wearing a wire and played dumb when I talked about knowing she was forced into a marriage with you.” Jeff shakes his head, seemingly impressed by Emily. As he should be, but I feel the heat of jealousy spark up again as I take note of the shine in his eye, he has for her.
Don’t even think about it. She’s my wife, Jeff.
Puffing out my cigar smoke, I’m enjoying his answers more and more. “And anything else?”
“Oh yeah. When I told her I could help her if she gave you up, she basically turned and walked back to her car.”
Reaching down to the second drawer, I pull out a white envelope stuffed with cold, hard cash—a kickback for Jeff’s work. “Thanks. This will be a nice holiday to Cabo.”
“Good. Enjoy it.” Jeff slams back the rest of the drink, knowing the drill. Informants don’t hang around. We have nothing in common, other than the exchange of information I need.
He holds the envelope up momentarily. “Check in with you down the line.”
“Okay. Good.” I wink at Jeff, and he stands up, shakes my hand, and heads out. Even if Emily decided she wanted to play vigilante, it wouldn’t have gone anywhere. Only back to Jeff, and then I would have to figure out what punishment to dish out to her. I’m relieved I don’t have to take that route. Satisfied with the result, I kick back in my chair, letting my cigar rest for a second with my hands behind my head. Jeff works undercover for the Bratva and has done so for over a decade. He’s been useful, and if he continues to be, the relationship will work on both sides.
He’s the reason nothing was reported back to the police when I essentially kidnapped Emily at the station. I can tell from the look in his eyes he liked Emily, but once I informed him, she was carrying my child, and we were to marry, he backed off.
One down and one more to go. I wait on my next guest in a slightly better mood given the result. A few minutes later, a rap at the door grabs my attention.
“Who is it?”
“Paul—Paul Butcher. Can I come in?”
“Yep. Come through.”
Paul enters in smart business casual: blue blazer, black T-shirt, jeans, and loafers with his face clean-shaven. “Evening, Ryurik. Nice to see you in the club setting. This place is absolutely huge.”
Arching my eyebrows at him, I agree. “Sure is. My baby. I brought this vision to life, and it’s all mine.” Holding out my arms, I hold up my drink. I might as well let him indulge because it’s going to be the last one he sees from me.
“Ah yeah?” he returns in a dubious tone, probably not knowing where he stands with me, and that’s the rocky ground I want him to crumble on. “I didn’t—er… I was worried after the ball we might not be on the same page.”
“Same page?” I add smoothly, the fire of hate burning a hole inside me. Emily’s held up her end of the bargain, and it’s time I hold up mine. Emily crying on my shoulder, withdrawn for days after seeing him is what I remember. And as our child blossoms, due any day now, I can’t imagine how a man could abandon their own so coldly, without any regard whatsoever.
“Yeah, you know. But we’re businessmen, and the world turns. Emily turned out good, and look! Hey, it’s a full-circle moment. The gang’s back together again. I don’t see the problem.”
Furious at his stupidity, I begin to realize he’s as dumb as the rest of his associates, just in other ways. “What drink?”
“I’m a scotch on the rocks guy. That will do me. You’ve got the good stuff up in here.”
Despising the man, I hand over the drink, thrusting it into his hand, the strong urge to backhand him taking over. “One scotch on the rocks,” I say loudly, the ice clinking together from the force. Paul wrangles with the glass, his face morphing from smug to baffled.
“Are you okay?”
Perched on the edge of my desk to the left of him, I shake my head, sipping my gin.
“No. What you did to Emily was wrong on too many levels. You’ve missed the point of what a brotherhood and the Mafia is built on.”
“Oh yeah? What did I miss? The way I see it is I did Emily a favor. She got to have a normal life. What kind of life was she going to have with me?” Paul points to himself, justifying his own bullshit.
“She knows who I am, and she married me. What are you talking about? Are you that much of a bitch you couldn’t protect her? That’s what the Mafia do. The Bratva have protective services from the military, to the police, the national guard, we’re everywhere. You had the means to take care of her!” I shout, my emotions getting the better of me.
“Hey there. Whoa. This is more so a matter between Emily and me. Her mother and I weren’t getting along.”
“But you knew she was having a kid, didn’t you?” I hiss, hating the man in front of me.
“Sure, but I lost touch, and things didn’t go as planned.” Paul shrugs his excuses coming thick and fast.
“You’re a shit liar, Paul. You abandoned your daughter and there’s no way around it. We won’t be collaborating. Not now. Not ever. I can’t trust a man who abandons his family.”
“Wait a minute. Let’s take a minute to breathe and think this through. Come on. This is business. It’s going to help family matters.”
Chuckling, I dig my fingers into the wood of my desk, gritting my teeth. “Nope. It’s not going to do that. You are doomed.”
“Doomed?” Paul’s face flushes bright red as I laugh, wishing Emily was here to witness her father’s downfall.
“Yes. Doomed is the right word. I’m going after all your businesses. Your casino arrangements. And it’s already underway. You’re going to be bankrupt by the end of next year.”
Paul coughs in disbelief, anguish on his face. “What? Bankrupt. You can’t do that.”
Sneering, I lean close to Paul. “Oh yes, I fucking can. In fact, I’ve already started. I think we call that a jackpot.” Standing up, I cross my arms, waiting for him to catch the immediate cue to leave.
“Can’t we work out a deal? You can’t punish me for something that happened years ago.”
“Looks like that’s exactly what I’m doing. The door. You. Out.” The command is direct, but Paul follows it, his head visibly blown apart by the blow I’ve just delivered.
Nothing more is said as Paul walks out the door, closing it behind him. A lazy smile rises over my face. The night is young and fresh, and so far, I’m two for two.