Chapter 7 Dimitri
DIMITRI
"So I told him if he wanted to keep both his kneecaps, he'd better start talking faster." Fyodor drains his whiskey, and the ice rattles in his glass as he sets it down. "Turns out, he couldn't talk fast enough when it counted."
Lev laughs and asks, "How many pieces did you have to mail back to his family?"
"Enough to make the point." Fyodor grins and bobs one eyebrow. "Though I kept a few souvenirs for myself."
Vadim shakes his head and leans back in his chair with his own drink balanced on his knee. "You're a sick bastard, you know that?"
"Says the man who killed how many men?" Fyodor raises his glass in a mock toast.
"Seventeen." Vadim lifts his glass to his lips to sip slowly then says, "And I'd do it again tomorrow if I had to."
I watch this exchange from behind my desk while Tatiana moves around the table refilling drinks and offering cigars from the humidor she's carrying.
Her hands shake when she pours and I can see the tension in her shoulders even from across the room.
She's too tense. My family notices these things, but for now they're polite enough not to say anything.
But I also can't stop watching the way her skirt moves when she walks or the way she bites her bottom lip when she's concentrating on pouring without spilling.
I've wanted her for months and now that I finally have her exactly where I want her, all I can think about is how badly I want to dismiss these men and lock the door behind them.
"Dimitri, are you even listening?" Lev's voice pulls my attention back to the conversation. "Or are you too busy staring at your new server?" Thankfully, he makes the comment quietly as she's walking out of the room.
"I'm listening." I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table. "You were talking about the body count in Serbia, which is fascinating but not why we're here tonight."
Vadim sets his down glass and his expression shifts from amused to serious. "You said you had concerns about the home front. What's going on?"
I slide the folder in front of me across to him and wait for him to open it before I start talking. "Someone was executed in the alley behind the casino two nights ago. The police showed up in the middle of the night."
Fyodor opens the folder and pulls out the crime scene photos while Lev leans over to look at them.
The images show Yakov Volodin's body crumpled against the brick wall with blood pooled beneath his head.
His face was almost entirely gone from the shot at close range.
It's not a pretty sight, but these men have all seen worse.
"Who was he?" Vadim asks without looking up from the photos.
"Yakov Volodin, a former Kozlov crew member who'd been skimming from them for years." Tatiana walks back into the room and offers cigars to Lev, who waves her away. "He came to me eight months ago offering to sell information about Kozlov operations in exchange for protection and money."
"And you took him up on it?" Vadim passes the photos to Fyodor who studies them more closely. "How good was his intel?"
"Very good. He gave me details about their smuggling routes, their connections to the Balkan network, and information about who was still loyal to Malcom after we took out most of their leadership.
He was the only true Kozlov left…" I accept a cigar from Tatiana when she appears at my elbow, and our fingers brush briefly when she hands it to me.
"The information he provided helped us stay ahead of their movements for months. "
"So, what happened?" Vadim takes one of the cigars that Tatiana offers and lets her light it for him. "The Kozlovs figured out he was working for you?"
"Yuri and I think they figured out he was a double agent, but I don't think they knew he was specifically feeding intel to us.
" I sip my whiskey and watch Tatiana retreat back toward the bar cart.
"My guess is they discovered his skimming and put enough pressure on him that he narked on himself.
Once they knew that, they hunted him down and executed him. "
"On your property." Vadim's eyes narrow as he purses his lips. "They chose this location deliberately to send you a message."
"Exactly." I set my glass down and slide the cigar into my pocket.
"With our enemies falling the way they have been, things should be easing up.
But this execution draws attention to the casino that we don't need.
If word gets out that a Mob-related hit was done on Gravitch property, it'll bring suspicion we can't afford right now. "
Fyodor taps ash from his cigar into the ash tray in the center of my table and shakes his head. "Have the police been asking questions?"
"They took statements from staff who were working that night and collected evidence from the scene.
" I glance at Tatiana who's moved back to the bar cart and is straightening bottles that don't need straightening.
She's acting more nervous now, avoiding eye contact, acting like she wants to leave the room again.
"So far, they haven't connected Volodin to us directly, but that doesn't mean they won't keep digging. "
"What about witnesses?" Lev asks while exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. "Did anyone see the actual execution?"
"Not that we know of." I watch Tatiana's hands still on the bottle she's holding and notice the way her shoulders tense.
She's agitated, growing stiffer every time one of my men asks a question.
"I left our opening there…" I flick a glance at Fyodor, who knows the reason a door would be left unobserved.
He nods his head and takes a drag from his cigar. It's definitely an inside job.
Every time I tell this story, it becomes more obvious.
The Kozlovs have no knowledge of our inner workings, and neither did Volodin.
Only the employees who walk in and out of that entrance knew we have no camera there.
Someone who paid enough attention to try to pull a fast one on us actually noticed no cameras and blabbed their mouth. Someone who works for me, most likely.
Vadim leans forward and rests his arms on the table. "So we're looking at a potential mole in your operation plus increased police attention plus the Kozlovs getting bold enough to operate on our territory. That's a problem."
Nothing gets past them. I don't even have to articulate my concern, and it's like they read it on my face the way I'm reading Tatiana's fear all over her body.
"That's why I called this meeting." I stand up and walk around the table toward where Tatiana is still fiddling with bottles on the cart.
"I need to know what you've heard about Kozlov movements since you got back from Serbia.
Are they working with the Balkans or the Veche family?
Are they planning something bigger?" I ask Vadim.
"I'll reach out to my contacts and see what I can find out." Vadim watches me approach Tatiana, and I can see the curiosity in his expression. "But if they're desperate enough to partner with either group, we need to be ready for coordinated attacks."
I stop behind her, and she jumps slightly when I put my hand on her lower back. "Gentlemen, excuse me for a moment while I handle something."
Lev grins and exchanges a look with Fyodor that suggests they both think they know what I'm doing. Vadim just shakes his head and reaches for the whiskey bottle to refill his own glass as he rolls his eyes.
I guide Tatiana toward the bar in the corner of the living room where I keep the vodka chilled. She's trembling badly enough that I can feel it under my palm. Something has really gotten her scared and worked up. "You're making my guests uncomfortable with how nervous you are."
"I'm sorry." Her voice comes out barely above a whisper. "I'm trying to do everything right, but I've never served in private meetings before."
"I know you're nervous because I forced you into my personal sphere.
" I pull a bottle of vodka from the refrigerator and grab two shot glasses from the shelf.
"But I need you to calm down and act natural around these men.
They're not going to hurt you, but your anxiety is making them wonder why you're so on edge. "
I'm wondering why she's so fucking on edge. She's acting like it’s her first day on her first job ever. And talk about the body out back isn't new. She worked last night. Surely, she heard the ruckus and gossiped with everyone here.
I pour two shots and push one toward her. "Drink this. It'll steady your nerves."
She stares at the glass like I've just offered her poison. "I'm working. I can't drink on the job."
"You can if I tell you to." I pick up my own shot and down it before refilling the glass. "I need you calm and collected when you're serving my guests. If drinking while you work is what it takes to keep you steady, then that's what you'll do."
She picks up the shot glass with a shaking hand and throws back the vodka in one quick motion. Her face screws up at the taste and she coughs once before setting the glass down hard on the bar. "Another, then…" Her eyes roll at me and she avoids looking directly at me.
I pour her a second shot and watch her drink it just as fast as the first one. The color returns to her cheeks and some of the tension leaves her shoulders. "Better?"
"Yeah." She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I'll do better."
I pull a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and tuck it into the pocket of her apron. "You're doing fine. Just breathe and remember that the only person in this room who has permission to hurt you is me, and I have no intention of harming you in any way."
She nods and takes a deep breath before picking up the bottle. "Yes, sir."
"Good girl," I purr, and I see the way she stiffens at the praise.
But she doesn't argue or push back, so I let it slide and return to the table where the men are waiting and sink back into my chair.
It's really curious why she got so flustered, but maybe she knows a little more about what I really do for a living than I thought.
She's not wrong to be intimidated by this group of men.
They'd terrify me if they were my enemies.
Fyodor watches Tatiana pour herself a third shot when she thinks no one's looking. "Is she always that jumpy or is there something else going on?"
"She's new…" I say as I sit back down and pick up the crime scene photos again. "Give her time to adjust and she'll be fine."
But even as I say it, I'm not entirely convinced.
There's something about the way she reacted when Lev asked about witnesses that makes me think there's more going on than just nerves about working in close quarters with me.
She was fine until that specific question came up and then she went rigid like someone had stuck a knife in her back.
I watch her move around the room offering refills and collecting empty glasses while I try to think things through.
She was working the night Volodin was executed, but I never watched her leave.
I got preoccupied with other things. The pieces start falling into place, and I don't like the picture they're forming.
"Dimitri?" Vadim's voice cuts through my thoughts. "You still with us?"
"Yeah." I set the photos down and focus back on the conversation. "What were you saying?"
The meeting devolves into planning how to fortify our defenses across the casino and other nearby properties.
After Yaros intercepted communications between us and an ally and nearly killed half of our men, then Vadim's near-death moment thanks to that scumbag politician, we aren't going to take chances on our home turf.
After two more hours of strategic planning and watching Tatiana get tipsy just so she can stop herself from shaking, the guys pack up and leave. We have a good plan in place, and I have to get to the bottom of whatever the hell is going on with Tatiana.
"Tatiana." I walk toward her, and she freezes with a glass in each hand. "Look at me."
She turns slowly and meets my eyes. It looks like she’s trying hard to stay calm but still failing.
There's fear there beneath the surface, and it's not the same fear I've seen before when I've cornered her or touched her.
This is different. She's not worried I'm going to come on to her again. She's terrified of something.
"Is there something you need to tell me?" I keep my voice level and neutral. If she saw something, she'll never trust me enough to tell me if she feels afraid of me too. "Something that might explain why you were so nervous tonight?"
"No," she says, and the word seems to cling to her tongue. "I told you I'm just not used to serving private meetings. That's all."
She's lying. She won't hold eye contact and her grip tightens on the glasses she's holding. But I don't push her because if I'm right about what I'm thinking, I need to handle this carefully.
"Because if you need to say something to me, I promise you I won’t be angry." I'm inwardly cursing myself for being such an aggressive ass to her at times. I come on strong to get what I want, and this time, it may have backfired.
"I'm fine," she grunts. "Tired, maybe."
"Go home." I step back and give her space to move past me. "Your shift is over, and you've done well tonight despite your nerves."
Tatiana looks up at me hesitantly and then lets her gaze drop and her eyes drift away. She sets the glasses on the bar cart and nods as she walks past me, moving much slower than she has all evening.
"Do you want a ride?" I ask, knowing if the men who did this know there's even a breath of a chance that she knows or has seen something, she won't make it home alive. I'm almost tempted to make her stay here.
"No, I'll take the bus…" She picks up her purse from beside the door, opens it, and steps out. Though for a split second, I swear I see her hesitate on the threshold. "Goodnight," she mutters over her shoulder, and then she's gone.
I go straight to my security monitors and start switching the feeds over to watch her descent toward the staff exit. She falls apart as soon as the elevator doors close, and now I have a very strong suspicion that Tatiana has seen it all and might not live to tell about it.
What the fuck will Yuri say about this one?