Beguiled

Chapter 4

Stash

Mikhail Chertov.

A man we all wanted dead.

The traitor of the family, the brother I’d barely gotten to know before he’d betrayed all of us, almost getting Kazimir killed in the process.

The reason Mikhail had turned against the family seeking revenge no longer mattered.

The fact that he was still alive, still planning a vendetta was.

To the Pakhan’s wisdom or his lack of judgment, he’d decided against killing Mikhail when he’d had the chance.

The son of the bitch had come back swinging, almost taking out Kazimir’s second in command and the woman he’d married.

A nasty tale of dark family secrets.

I offered my full attention. “Where?”

“Here. In New York.”

“Substantiated?”

“Not yet, but the source is trustworthy.”

Exhaling, I threw my head back. “Have you told Kazimir?”

“I have a call in less than an hour.”

“Make certain every soldier has his picture. We are not going to fuck with this son of a bitch again.”

Dimitri laughed. “You’re getting more like Kazimir every day. Already done and also why I wanted to share another potential problem with you.”

What a day this was turning out to be. “That is?”

Leaning forward, he slipped the file across his desk. “Does this asshole look familiar?”

Before I flipped open the file, I noticed he was more agitated than usual. When I did, I immediately recognized the man’s face as I had a photographic memory. However, in his case, it took a little longer to realize where I’d seen him.

“Assistant manager of housekeeping at Chateau Elegance. David Petro.”

His nod was purposeful. “You have a good memory. Mamin obzhora idiot.”

As soon as he threw out the harsh words, I broke my usual reaction, finding myself smiling. “I think you mean grobanyy debil.”

“Huh?” He was completely confused. He’d been in the United States long enough, immersing himself in the culture that he’d lost almost his entire accent and was losing his mastery of our native language.

“I think you meant motherfucking moron,” I continued.

“That’s what I said.”

“No,” I countered, already growing bored. “You said mother feasting moron.”

“Same damn thing. His real name is Davit Petrosyan.”

“David. Davit. Are you suggesting he has something to do with Mikhail’s possible sighting?”

“Since Mikhail likes to play games, anything out of the ordinary deserves a second glance. Now, look at the other pictures.” He fidgeted in his seat.

He was right. Mikhail was masterful at playing games, his penchant for making family members suffer topnotch. People thought he was nuts. I thought he was a cunning sociopath.

After donning my glasses, I did as he asked, flipping through some very detailed black and white photographs.

“You’re suggesting he’s an Armenian mole.

” The pictures were taken inside a restaurant, from the looks of it one of the twenty-eight thousand Mom and Pop eateries blanketing the city.

Davit was at a table with a woman, the man Dimitri believed worthy to note holding court at a table a few feet away.

It was obvious the two men were engaged in a conversation.

Not necessarily a smoking gun in my opinion.

What did the man think he was going to accomplish?

While originally certain aspects of our less scrupulous business tactics were handled in the business offices of the renovated hotel, almost a year ago they’d been moved to a standalone building near where Kirill had purchased a home.

Mikhail had wanted both men dead, Dimitri added for kicks and giggles.

The wine and cheese shop operated a small yet successful business while the space upstairs allowed for necessary meetings of the Bratva.

In other words, there was little if anything that the man could siphon from working at the hotel.

Other than executives, not a single person working in the resort had proof of our underground operations.

What had begun to trouble me was the fact that we were running thin.

We’d grown too quickly, yet to bring on additional people who could be trusted.

Not just with the legitimate side of our business either.

Thankfully, all the lower-level positions had been filled, management topnotch, in part due to Sean McCarthy’s employees who’d proven to be worth every penny.

However, since Mikhail had escaped a second time, almost another full year had passed, allowing him to potentially find another way to weasel into our organization.

Sending in a mole would provide him with juicy tidbits on how best to exact his planned revenge.

But I’d been the one to remind Kazimir not to put all his eggs in one basket.

We had several organizations considered enemies, even if since my arrival, the streets had been filled with peace.

“Exactly,” Dimitri pushed. “The other man in the picture is Vardan Zargarian. After doing some digging, I learned he’s favored to become the next Avtoritet of the Armenian clan.

The man came out of nowhere to challenge the current leader and another contender.

Vardan is American born, but his background is all Armenian royalty. ”

The authority was the head of the crime syndicate and while I’d yet to have any dealings with him, from what I’d heard, the man was a true dictator in every way.

Another potential enemy to add to the list. I knew little about the Armenian way of life except that they were firmly entrenched in the old beliefs, much like the old guard in the Bratva.

“Did something happen to the old one?” I pressed, able to see that Dimitri was truly concerned.

“Not yet, but from all accounts, Kazmik Melik is being forced out either to retirement or death. Vardan is very young to take the helm—basically our age—but I heard he’s aggressive as fuck. He’d give you a run for your money.”

With Dimitri wearing a smile, I could tell he was offering a riddle of some kind.

“While as you already know I enjoy the mental exercises of solving a puzzle, I do have business to attend to today. Are you suggesting he is stealing information?”

“I’m suggesting having Davit in our employ is an issue.” Dimitri was always quick to eliminate any issues. My methods were different.

“What would you like to do with him?”

“At minimum, I think he needs to be taught a lesson.”

I understood the man’s need for precautions. We’d been through enough backstabbing for a lifetime. However, given our trend toward becoming more mainstream, starting a war over nothing wasn’t in our best interest. “Other than these photographs, do you have concrete evidence he’s sold us out?”

He cocked his head, his eyebrows lifted. “You don’t actually believe in coincidences. Do you? That Armenian restaurant is where Vardan does most of his business.”

“Armenian as in they serve Armenian food.” When my cousin nodded, I laughed. “What if they’re hungry and like the atmosphere?”

“I don’t think taking risks at this point is a good idea. Need I remind you of the damage Mikhail has caused?”

“May I remind you that we can’t jump to conclusions without concrete proof?”

Risks had been a part of our existence from the beginning of time.

“You honestly don’t believe it’s possible Mikhail is planning another attack?”

“What I believe is that bloodletting on a Wednesday isn’t on my list of business activities for the day.

My suggestion is that discover how tight the connection is.

If nothing more than casual, we could consider using him to ensure there’s not an issue.

Yes, we need to keep a watchful eye out for Mikhail.

We can’t let our guard down and we won’t.

However, it’s also possible the potential new leader is surveying the playing field, which is something I would do. ”

He slumped in his seat, a telltale trait when he didn’t like my suggestions. Which was almost always. “I think he needs to be taken off the staff roster.”

“What is really going on here?” From what I knew about Dimitri, this felt personal.

“Does it really matter?”

“Yeah, I think it does.”

He leaned over my desk, pulling one of the half dozen pictures to the forefront. “See that girl?”

“By the back of her head.”

“I have it on good authority she’s Russian.”

I stared at him, fighting laughter. “Call out the National Guard.” What in the hell was he thinking? Dimitri drove me nuts half the time, but his brain worked just fine.

“You seem to forget that I’ve been in this country a lot longer than you’ve been. Let’s go under the guise your assumption is correction. The Armenians are true pigs. They have no issue using a young woman to try and garner symphony or an alliance of their own then toss her away.”

“Is she a daughter I didn’t know about, Dimitri?”

He chortled. “There are other Russians in this city, Stash. Many of whom work as soldiers in my army.”

“In our army. Besides, that’s what you said about the Irish before our tentative alliance with them. That they are brutal and would use anyone to get what they want.”

Dimitri grinned. “Yeah, which they do. Being cautious is why I’m still breathing. I’m telling you we have something to worry about. I’m also telling you if this is Mikhail’s doing, nothing Kazimir can say will stop me from killing that man, cousin or not.”

We both felt the same way. “Don’t worry. Kazimir isn’t going to risk his family.” He’d suffered enough at the hands of his brother. Our brother.

I had to continually remind myself that kind of evil ran through my veins. I was certainly capable of doing horrific acts. I’d proven that enough times after finally being accepted into the Chertov family.

“I should hope not.” Dimitri dropped the ball in my court.

“Either way, we’ll handle the situation when we have solid information. Including the identity of this girl. Maybe that’s something you can work on. At this point, you have rumors and nothing else. Right?”

As he jerked to his feet, I could tell he wasn’t thrilled with my lack of support. While he was right in that I didn’t know the New York scene but so well, I’d gleaned enough to realize there was enough business for everyone.

As long as they stayed in their lanes.

I could tell he was holding back information. Perhaps because he knew I didn’t tolerate information without documented backup.

“Yeah, rumors. Maybe ask one of your Irish buddies if they’ve heard anything. They’re low enough to the ground, being the cockroaches they are.”

My cousin didn’t like that we were doing business with the Irish mob, even with Kirill marrying the niece of the head of the mob. Just as with our corporate alliances, maintaining a limited friendship had proven beneficial. “Maybe I will.”

I also didn’t mind having the Irishman’s low standing relationship with New York. He had friends in every corner of the city and up and down the East Coast. He knew we’d pay a large sum if Mikhail was found.

Dead or alive.

My cousin grinned. “You are a strange Russian.”

Laughing, I nodded toward the door. He was right about that.

In truth, I got along well with Sean McCarthy, the Irish patriarch.

We understood each other, including our respective darker needs.

He didn’t like being squeezed on the oil and gas deal, although he owed the Chertovs his life.

However, with our combined efforts, in a year we’d all become even richer.

Did our alliance also place a target on their head? Absolutely. The Armenians were old enemies of the Irish, which could have me conclude that whatever was going on had nothing to do with us.

Except Mikhail was never far from my mind.

Even before my office door was closed, my phone rang.

“Your ears must have been burning,” I told Sean by way of answering.

His laugh was hearty, more jovial than normal. “You were talking with Dimitri again.”

“Maybe I was. What can I do for you?” Sean was well aware how many verbal altercations Dimitri had experienced with Kazimir.

“I have a situation you might find interesting.”

Code for something else altogether, an activity that appeased the anger simmering deep inside. “I’m interested. When?”

“Tonight. I’m sorry about the short notice.”

“I can always make time for the ring. I’ll be there.”

“I’m glad we both see value in my club.”

“Very much so.” There was no need to continue with our conversation. We were always careful in holding discussions. The FBI was an organization we couldn’t control.

Yet.

What I’d found was the connection had been beneficial in methods of business as well as personally.

The man understood the rage that often seeped through the cracks. He saw me as a man with foibles. If he thought he could use them as a weakness, he was dead wrong. He’d learned that with the first fight I’d won in a single round.

With the vigorous exercise the private club provided, I was able to soothe the demons.

At least most of the time.