43. Alexei #3
“The shed containing all the remaining Sentinel boats and equipment.” I grin at her.
“The skeleton crew Sentinel left here has been using it as headquarters and sleeping in a hotel nearby. But unless they all sleep with their kit under their beds, when Kiril Novikov calls in about two minutes, they’re not going to be able to do much to help. ”
Right on time, I see flames in the distance.
“Looks like Mickey and Dima have got the nightclub party started.” I help her into the high-powered boat. “Hopefully your people have got Miami PD busy chasing Ballsack.”
“Trust me,” Renata says as I hit the starter button.
“Miami PD hate crooked feds far more than honest criminals. They’ll leap at the chance to bring down whatever FBI agents are on Thorne and Hunter’s payroll.
And besides.” She gives me a droll look.
“The Luccheses used to send Miami PD a crate of vintage whiskey every Christmas, with the labels steamed off the bottles. They’d replace them with their family coat of arms and a message that read, For your late-night stakeouts.
” She grins at me. “The joke at the station was that a detective hadn’t made it until he got a bottle with his name on the label. ”
I accelerate into the bay, my shout of laughter lost in the engine noise.
I’m having fun, I think, with faint surprise. Actual fun.
Because this time you’re playing the game, motherfucker, comes Lars’s voice, instead of being one of the pieces on the board.
And it feels good.
It feels right.
It feels like a game I was born to play.
It takes us less than ten minutes to reach the Guapa’s anchorage in the middle of Biscayne Bay.
“Nice and close to shore,” Renata says, looking around as Andrew takes the rope and ties us fast.
I throw her a snide smile. “All the better to watch the show later.”
She shakes her head. “You’re a twisted fuck, Petrovsky, you know that?”
“And that’s why we’re friends, Cardenas.” I sling my arm around her shoulders as we step aboard.
“We saw the fireworks,” Andrew says, grinning at me. He tilts his head toward the upper deck, from which comes the sound of low conversation and clinking glasses. “Your friends upstairs are enjoying the show so far.”
“They’ll enjoy the late show much more.” I head for the secure room. “Give them my best. I’m not going to risk heading up there. Roman and the others will be here any minute now.”
“Don’t worry,” Andrew assures me. “They all know the drill.” He hands me a bottle of Graf. “Thought you might need a drink while you work,” he says, winking as I open the door to the secure room and step inside.
“You know what you said about tonight being Pokémon Go on rogue cartels?” I say to Renata, unscrewing the cap from the vodka as the screens in the secure room flicker into life.
“Well, same goes for any ambitious Russians and Italians.” I tilt my head toward the screen showing the cameras on the upper deck. “Wait until these guys get involved.”
Renata looks at the screen, her eyes widening as she moves from face to face. “Holy shit,” she says flatly. “Is that the new Lucchese boss?”
“Rico, yes.” I point to the guy next to him. “And that’s Luca Bellini, head of the Sicilian branch of the Bellini family.”
“What about them?” She squints at the three men sitting opposite the others.
“Wait. Isn’t the very good-looking one that pond scum journalist from the Darkside?
” She points to a tall blond man with a deep tan, who lolls on the couch with a smirk that shows exactly how much he’s looking forward to what’s coming.
“Lance Ryder, yes. We’re going to pass him off as Roman’s security. And the reason he looks like the cat who got the cream is because he has. Our friend Mr. Ryder is about to become one of the wealthiest, not to mention most powerful, men in tech media.”
Renata gives me a skeptical look. “The Darkside, Lex? Seriously?”
I shrug. “Ryder has proven useful—and loyal—over the years. He’s also very discreet and extremely smart. Too smart, really, to have running around unsecured.”
She rolls her eyes. “And the other two?”
“The one on the left is about to be the new head of the Miami FBI. The SAC.” I grin. “You’re going to love his name when you hear it. His friend there will be taking over Miami PD.”
Renata frowns. “I don’t know either of them.”
I grin at her. “Neither does the Miami mayor—yet. Oh, wait.” I palm my face in mock realization. “The ex-mayor.”
She shakes her head slowly. “Dios mio. This city is so fucked.”
“Don’t say that.” I hand her a vodka. “You’re about to become part of the leading elite, friend. You have to at least pretend to believe in it.”
She downs her vodka and holds out her glass, still staring at the screen. “I stopped believing in it a long fucking time ago, Lex. Then again . . .” Her solemn expression lifts, and she gives me a wicked sideways look. “Maybe that will change, now that I’m about to be their new mayor.”
“Damn straight.” I touch my glass to hers. “To the right kind of girl power.”
“You’re an idiot, Petrovsky.” Renata shakes her head. “Wait,” she says suddenly, staring at the screen that shows the landing dock. She sits forward, gripping my arm hard enough to hurt. “They’re here.”