Chapter 42
Thank God Liliya took it easy on me today and decided to spend her day at Safe Hearts.
Genesis has volunteered at the women and children’s shelter for years. After she was kidnapped, Julian hired full-time security there. No more rotating volunteers. It’s twenty-four hours a day—even when Genesis isn’t there.
The women and children there deserve that protection.
Most women at the shelter have escaped domestic violence. I can’t help but think what would have happened if my mother had gone to Safe Hearts. She could’ve saved her life. Deep down though, I know my father would’ve found a way to hurt her, even there. Possibly putting other women’s lives at risk.
He always won, and no one dared to ever run from him.
My goal today is to find out who tried to shoot Liliya and me.
“A million will be wired to each of your offshore accounts,” Antonio informs us.
We’re back in the same room from last night—Antonio, Damien, Julian, and me. As soon as they came in this morning, they all asked about Aurora.
How she and the baby are doing.
Whether they’ll see her again.
I doubt Andre will allow her to return to New York.
I nod at Antonio’s words.
We all prefer to keep our money in offshore accounts. They’re untraceable and protected. The feds can’t get their grimy hands on our dirty money.
I have a fair share in stocks, bonds, and investments.
Genesis’s father used to sell Julian insider trading, and he’d give us tips.
We all made a fucking killing. Between that, my inheritance money, payouts from our illegal ventures, and the casino, I live comfortably and want for nothing.
I also take a few contract killings when I’m feeling bored.
Antonio turns to me. “I’m coming with you to meet with Aleksy. Not only do I want to hear what he knows about you being chased by armed men only miles from his home but we also haven’t seen our share of his profits.” He slams his laptop shut. “That’s a fucking problem.”
I nod, following him from the office and outside.
The other men go their separate ways, and Antonio and I slide into the sedan.
My phone rings before I start the engine, and Aleksy’s name flashes on the screen.
I hold up the phone to show Antonio.
He nods, and I answer, putting the call on speaker.
“I have a serious fucking problem!” Aleksy yells on the other line, sounding nearly out of breath.
“What’s that?” I ask in annoyance.
I don’t give a shit about his problems.
I want to solve my problems with him first.
“Fredricko, that crazy fucking arms dealer—”
“I know Fredricko,” I cut in dryly.
“Well, he just burned down my goddamn bowling alley!”
I grin wide, adjusting the AC vents to blast me in the face.
“He said it’s payback for killing his son. He claimed I’m trying to steal his weapon contracts!”
I crack my neck. “Are you trying to steal his contracts?”
“No!” Aleksy snaps before lowering his voice, as if about to tell me a secret. “Would I love to have them? Of course. But I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Is this him subliminally asking me?
I rub my chin, dragging my hand slowly down my throat. “Did you know your sister and I were shot at after leaving your house the other night?”
I couldn’t care less about whatever bullshit he’s dealing with.
I caused it and know why Fredricko is coming for him.
It was all a part of my plan.
“What?” he stammers. “No. Who did it?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
He goes quiet.
“You’re not going to ask if your sister is okay?” I hiss.
If the roles were reversed and Aurora had been shot at, I’d be demanding to kill whoever it was.
“Is … is she okay?” he finally asks, and I hear Antonio mutter, “Fucking pathetic loser,” in the background.
“Yes,” I snap.
“Then what are you making a big deal about me asking for?” He scoffs. “You’re her husband. You should be the one more concerned.”
I grit my teeth, wishing I could punch the fucker in his face. “Any idea who could’ve been behind it?”
“No idea, man.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Aleksy.”
“You think I’d do something to put my sister’s life in danger?”
I hold in the urge to tell him he already did when he told her to kill me.
But I’m saving that for when we’re face-to-face.
“We need to talk,” I tell him.
“About what?”
“Business.”
“In case you forgot, I have a fucking bowling alley problem!” he screams.
“Great.” I shift the car into Reverse. “I’ll meet you at the pile of ashes. Have some fucking nachos ready for me.” I end the call and leave the casino’s back parking lot.
“Man, you should’ve at least told him two nachos,” Antonio comments, rolling down his window for fresh air.
We’re ten minutes into the drive to the bowling alley when Antonio says, “We have company. A black SUV has been tailing us since we took our first right after the casino.”
I peer into the rearview mirror.
Fuck.
Sure enough, there’s a black SUV.
The windows are tinted so dark that I can’t make out the driver.
I cut the wheel, and the tires squeal as I make a sharp right.
The SUV does the same thing.
Adrenaline storms through my blood as I slam my foot on the pedal. We launch forward, and I pick up speed as we weave through cars.
Horns blare.
I run a red.
The SUV stays on our ass the entire time.
Antonio turns, shoving off the seat, and grabs the AK-47 from the back seat floorboard. He undoes the safety and shoves the barrel toward the rear window.
My hand grips the steering wheel tight as I make another turn, nearly clipping a car and bouncing over a curb. Sweat builds along my hairline as sirens fire off behind us, but I don’t slow my speed.
I can’t, and I won’t.
Not until we lose these fuckers or kill them.
The SUV’s driver is trained.
This isn’t their first fucking rodeo.
“I’m going to take out the driver,” Antonio says. “Stupid son of a bitch.”
Antonio grunts when I swerve to the right, barely missing a jaywalker. Leaning forward, he teases the trigger with his pointer finger, waiting for the right moment.
He won’t miss.
He’s one of the best snipers I know.
I wait for the sweet sound of a bullet firing.
But it never comes.
“What the fuck?” Antonio shouts, curving his shoulders as he leans in to get a better look through the rear windshield.
I check the mirror and mentally repeat his words.
Lev is standing through the sunroof of the SUV, waving his arms in the air, and motions for us to pull over. I check my phone, seeing missed calls from him.
“Should we stop?” I ask Antonio, easing off the gas some.
He doesn’t lower the gun. “Sure. I’ve had a boring day. Might as well try to punish the fucker who made us go on a high-speed chase before I’ve had my second coffee.”
I turn into a side alley.
The SUV slides in behind us.
I slam the car into park and glance at Antonio.
I kill the engine, wishing I were killing Lev or Aleksy instead. Antonio and I each shove a Glock in our waistband. He keeps the AK in his hand as we step out. Both of us are wary of what the fuck we’re about to walk into.
My blood boils as Lev hops out of the passenger seat of the SUV, all smiles, as if this were all just a game.
“What the fuck is this, Lev?” I demand.
Before he can answer, the SUV’s back door opens.
A large man in a striped navy suit steps out, calm and collected.
My jaw tightens. “Who the fuck are you?”
Antonio stiffens and mutters, “Fuck.”
The man looks at Antonio first. “Lombardi.” Then he nods toward me. “Emilio.”
His Russian is thick enough to choke on.
He coldly smiles at us. “We have important things to discuss.”