Chapter Thirty-Five
In which there are reinforcements and revelations.
Scarlett…
There’s a clamor in the front hall, and I hurry down the stairs to find the entry cluttered with MacTavishes and Morozovs. “Hello, cousin,” Michael leans down to kiss my cheek. “I bring reinforcements.”
“I don’t know,” I say, looking dubiously at a grinning Roman and Dmitri. “Wallace is pretty good at setting stuff on fire all by himself.”
“If we’re right about who’s behind this, even your talented husband will need some assistance,” Dmitri says, smiling at me kindly.
“Da and Uncle Cameron are heading to The Clinic to see Alastair and talk to Alec,” Michael says. “Where’s Wallace?”
“Right here,” he says, coming out of the kitchen. He’s showered and wearing grey joggers and a blue henley and even as bad as things are, I want to rip them right off his body.
But there are guests.
“This is quite a collection,” Morgan saunters down the stairs. She’s a sight in my black bustier, satin sleep shorts and a cat clinging to each shoulder like furry epaulets. “Is this a recovery meeting for the Hot and Extremely Entitled?”
“Not the latter,” Roman says, smiling devilishly, “though I have heard the extremely hot designation before.” Michael and Dmitri, eldest sons of the eldest son, exchange a look of mutual exhaustion.
“Flirt on your own time, ye bastard.” Wallace herds them into the great room. “We’ve got bigger problems than your lack of game, lad.”
All I hear from Wallace is a Scottish accent coming back. And it sounds like home.
Bolstered by an enormous platter of food and many drinks, we start plowing through all the information.
“So, we know The Gadfly was hired to murder your father,” Michael says.
“He’s the Albanian Mafia guy, right?” Morgan asks. “He’s why you’ve been lighting up warehouses and dive bars for the last week.”
“Really?” Dmitri raises an elegant brow. “How many targets?”
“Twelve,” Wallace says evenly. “I’m only on number ten.”
“He’s always been an overachiever,” Michael says proudly.
“Aye, Morgan, this is an Albanian group. But the head of the mafia is The Gadfly, he rents his people out to stir up trouble and cause havoc while a bigger mafia is busy behind the scenes,” Wallace explains. “Distract, then destroy.”
“The fecking eejit,” Michael says. “I canna believe he put his entire organization on the line for the second party. He must know we’ll rip his mafia to shreds for this.”
“Down to the last man and building standing,” Wallace adds. “Bone, and ash.”
I take his hand and squeeze it, knowing he’s thinking of his father in that hospital bed.
Roman, clearly not one to read the room, grins enticingly at Morgan. She’s settled herself on a cushion by the fireplace, happily drinking a sherry with her long legs on display in those satin sleep shorts. “If we’re short on seating, I’m happy to offer my lap, darling.”
“And I’m happy to put my boot up your ass,” she says, unperturbed. “Though that means I’ll need to go upstairs and put them on, so we can revisit your weak attempt at flirting later.”
“Moving on,” Wallace snaps. “Ye said Xenia finally decrypted the Frostbite files?”
“Aye.” Michael pulls a pile of photos and paperwork out of a folder. “We thought we knew the who, we just dinnae know the how.”
“I’m losing you.” I raise my hand.
“The files were created by Kholodov. It makes sense, since we knew he set his sights on your syndicate. But these files, now… They’re beauties, it’s all laid out, their entire plan to cripple the other Boston crime families by cutting off their suppliers and making the Banner routes the only ones they could use.
He even has plans to make inroads into New York. ”
“There’s no doubt that it’s Kholodov?” Wallace asks.
“None,” Dmitri says grimly. “His head Avtoritet was spotted with five of his men near Marblehead right before the warehouse fire. We have security footage of him in Salem today.” He nods at Morgan. “I’m very sorry about your home.”
Her smile slips for just a moment. “I am, too. That’s why I’m looking forward to watching you fuck this guy up.”
“Here’s some of the surveillance images,” Michael continues, spreading the photos out on the table. “Kholodov was having dinner last night with Armand Renner, one of your chief weapons distributors, correct?”
Mouth tight, Dmitri looks at the photo before tossing it down. It slips off the table and lands on the carpet. “Renner. Podonok, that fucker. I’m sure our father will enjoy pulling his next arms shipment unless he wants to pay triple the price.”
Picking up the photo, I freeze. “I know this man.” The photo’s getting blurry and it takes me a minute to realize it’s because my hands are shaking.
“What do ye mean?” Wallace scoops me up, putting me on his lap. “You’ve met Kholodov? Why have ye not told me?”
“That wasn’t his name. Kyle, that son of a bitch bastard-faced shit-eating prick, introduced him as Xavier Frost.”
“Well said, Scarlett! You’ve been saving up for the swear jar to let that one rip,” Morgan says approvingly. Her smile fades as she looks at me. “What happened?”
“Kyle called me into his office and introduced me to this man as his sweet little sister, Scar.” I shudder.
“Frost - Kholodov, I mean, got really excited, he didn’t want me to leave.
He…” Squeezing the back of my neck, I try to rub away the memory of his spidery fingers on my skin.
“He touched me, he traced one of my- He said, ‘I understand scars, I appreciate them.’”
Morgan picks up the photo and looks stricken. “This is the man who sleazed through my shop. I should have described him to you.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, woman,” Michael says. “You’re lucky he dinnae kidnap ye for his butcher shop-”
“Shut yer mouth,” Wallace cuts him off. Wrapping his arms around me, he whispers comforting nonsense as the rest of them digest this news.
“Thanks to the intel, we’ll be able to anticipate his moves and crush him every time he tries to pivot,” Dmitri says. “Xavier must have realized the plan was compromised. He would immediately think Kyle turned on him and that’s why he killed them all.”
“So, sending The Gadfly in to shoot my father makes sense,” Wallace says. “Xavier needed us to be busy protecting Dad and dealing with the attacks against the Taylor operations.”
“He dinnae know then, that we MacTavishes can multi-task,” Michael says.
“There’s more to this,” Roman’s eyes narrowed, darting back and forth like he’s playing a particularly fierce game of Fortnight.
“With the rest of the Banners dead, once the false charges are dropped - and we all know they will be - Scarlett is the sole heir to the Banner fortune, her trust, and the syndicate. Arranged marriages in the Bratva are ironclad. If he kills you and takes Scarlett,” he gives Wallace an apologetic nod. “He’ll have it all.”
Wallace is tense under me, every muscle like stone, but I can feel his rage. “He canna find enough firepower on this planet to make that happen.”
“Speaking of firepower,” Michael seems eager to change the subject.
“Logan and Kai are flying in the shipment of weaponry ye confiscated from that Isle of Skye job. We can distribute the goods to your soldiers here. That’ll help control any more skirmishes if Kholodov is suicidal enough to stir up more trouble. ”
“You entrusted a huge shipment of military-grade weaponry to Logan?” Dmitri starts laughing.
“Logan? The same man who sank the wrong yacht?” He turns to Roman.
“Remember this? He sank the president of Lithuania’s ship off the coast of Italy instead of the targets.
’ It was supposed to be Morales, the Columbian drug lord’s superyacht. ”
“To be fair,” Michael inserts, “Logan blew up the drug lord’s yacht the next day, so the job was done.”
“I wonder if any normal person listening in to this conversation could find it anything but acutely horrifying.” Morgan shakes her head. “You’re talking about murder, attempted assassination, arson, kidnapping… And you’re laughing.”
She thinks about it. “Not that it isn’t funny.”
“Try to look at it this way,” Wallace says, absently petting Murder Mittens as she settles on top of us.
“If we thought there was a real threat of Kholodov getting what he wants, there would be more guns and less talk. But my wife is protected by a security force that's likely bigger than King Charles.’ We will be wiping Xavier Kholodov and his Bratva off the face of the earth.”
“Now, we just need to find him, aye?” Dmitri adds. “I think he’ll either race back to Moscow like a whipped pup, or if he’s desperate enough, he’ll come here.”
“Then we’ll be ready for him.” Wallace holds me closer. “He’ll never touch ye, wife.”
“I think we should go raid the fridge and find all these meals the chef made,” Morgan says. “Talking about death and destruction is making me hungry again.”
“I like a woman with a strong appetite,” Roman purrs.
“For feck’s sake, Dmitri.” Michael wearily rubs his eyes, “Put a leash on your brother before Morgan drinks his blood.”
“I’m a witch, not a vampire,” Morgan says. “But blood-letting is a talent of mine.”
“Okay, we’re going into the kitchen,” I announce, standing up. “Before you people kill my appetite.”
It’s already gone, though. I remember Xavier Kholodov’s fingers on my skin, the menace he radiated like a toxic cloud.
I don’t think he’s running back to Russia.
Avtoritet - Leaders of the operational brigades who work for the Pakhan of a Bratva