Chapter 19
Laszlo
The headlights of the Range Rover flash twice in the rearview mirror.
“Fuck,” I mutter in Russian under my breath.
“What?” Galina says, instantly alert.
I consider lying to her, but that would come to a rapid head when I have to start weaving through traffic. “We have a tail.”
“Who?” she says, looking over her shoulder.
I snort. “Well, if I knew that, I would’ve said their name.”
She sits back in her chair with a huff. “How do you know?”
“Grisha flashed me.”
“Shit. Is it Petrov?”
“I doubt it. Why would he be following us?”
“Someone tipped him off about what we’re doing?”
“Like who? Only you and I know we were going to your father’s. Was it you?”
“Okay, snarky. Point made. Then who is it?”
“Any number of arseholes.” The light turns red, and I stop with the Range Rover on my arse.
“So what do we do?”
“Try to lose them. Or rather, attempt to lose them and create an ambush to find out what the fuck they want.”
Galina grips the seatbelt. “And you’re telling me this like it’s a mildly annoying parking issue.”
“I’m telling you calmly, so you don’t do anything stupid.”
“I wasn’t planning to jump out and fight them at a red light.”
“Good. Nice to know we’re making progress.”
The light changes. I take the turn fast, not enough to draw eyes, enough to test them. In the mirror, a dark Audi slips after us, keeping two cars back. The Range Rover stays with me.
“Black Audi,” I say. “Tinted. Could be anyone.”
“Helpful.”
“I’m not psychic.”
I take another turn, then another, cutting away from the main road. Residential streets. Parked cars. Narrow lanes. Harder to move cleanly, easier to trap. If they stay on us through this, it’s deliberate.
They do.
My jaw tightens. “Persistent little cunts.”
Galina goes quiet for a second. “Are we still going to my father’s?”
“Depends on whether I want company when I arrive.”
“And?”
“And I don’t.”
I take us south, then double back west, using the one-way system to drag the Audi through a mess of turns that would lose anyone casual.
Still there.
“Not random,” I murmur. “Stay calm.”
“I am calm.”
I take a hard left into a mews and accelerate down the short stretch, then brake and swing into an arched gateway just wide enough to clear the bonnet by inches.
“Hold on.”
I wrench the wheel, cut the engine the second we’re in, and coast the rest of the way behind a row of wheelie bins and a brick outbuilding that blocks us from the street. The Range Rover overshoots, exactly as instructed. Good men.
Galina turns to me. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Making them choose.”
I pull the handbrake and look at her. “Stay here. Doors locked.”
Her eyes narrow. “No.”
“Yes.”
She reaches for the handle anyway, so I catch her chin and force her to look at me. “Galina. If this is nothing, you get to call me a controlling arsehole for the rest of the day. If it’s something, I need to know you’re exactly where I left you and not in the line of fire.”
Her breathing changes. Faster, but not panicked. “And what if abandoning me puts me in the line of fire?”
“It won’t,” I say. “Not with the doors locked and Grisha and Yuri ten seconds away.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It’s not meant to be. It’s the truth.” I let go of her chin and pull my gun from the holster at my back. “Stay down if I tell you. Do not open this door for anyone but me.”
“Laszlo—”
“Galina.” I hold her gaze until she stops fighting me for one second. “Trust me.”
Her jaw tightens. She hates it. She nods anyway.
Good enough.
I slip out, shut the door quietly, and move fast along the brick wall of the mews.
The Audi rolls past the entrance, slows, then stops at the far end.
Four doors. Not good. Two men get out first. Dark suits.
No rush. Professional enough to know panic draws attention.
One looks toward the street. The other scans the yard.
Then Grisha’s Range Rover reverses back into view and blocks the mouth of the mews.
Now nobody is leaving quickly.
I raise the gun and step out. “Hands where I can see them.”
Both men freeze.
A third man gets out of the Audi from the rear passenger side, older, clean-shaven with silver at his temples and the sort of face that says he has spent a lifetime delivering messages men don’t want to hear.
He lifts both hands slowly. “Mr Voronov,” he says.
I don’t lower the gun. “Try again with your name.”
“My name is Semyon Arkan.” His gaze flicks once toward the car behind me, then back to my face. “I’m not here for trouble.”
“Everyone says that right before trouble starts.”
Yuri gets out of the Range Rover with his weapon drawn. Grisha stays in place, ready to move out. The mews goes tight with silence.
Semyon keeps his hands visible. Smart. “I need a word. Privately.”
“No.”
“It concerns your family.”
Every part of me hardens. “Wrong opening line.”
One of the younger men shifts his weight. I point the gun at his chest. “Don’t.”
He freezes.
Semyon exhales through his nose. “I was told this would be difficult.”
“Who told you?”
He hesitates for half a second too long.
I smile without humour. “That bad, is it? You don’t follow a Voronov unless it’s serious. Who did I piss off?”
Semyon’s mouth tightens. “You haven’t pissed anyone off. Not this time.”
“Then you’re wasting mine.”
“I’m here on behalf of someone who cannot approach you openly.”
“Everyone can approach me openly,” I say. “What they usually can’t do is leave happy.”
Semyon glances at Yuri, then Grisha, then back at me.
“Give me a name, or I’m going to start shooting.”
“Voran Baranov.”
“My cousin.”
Semyon doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need a family tree. All he wants is to achieve what his boss wants.
“What does he want, and don’t give me some bullshit answer. If Voran wanted to talk to me, he could’ve just picked up the phone.”
Semyon’s expression stays neutral, but I catch the flicker in his eyes.
“He said you would be suspicious,” Semyon replies carefully.
“I am suspicious. It’s one of my better qualities.” I keep the gun trained on him. “Talk.”
He glances towards my car, and that tiny movement is enough to make my temper spike. “You look at her again, and I’ll put a bullet through your knee.”
His gaze comes straight back to me. “Understood.”
“Good. Now tell me why my cousin is sending men after me in traffic like a prick.”
Semyon lowers his hands by an inch. Yuri shifts. I don’t have to look at him to know his finger is tightening on the trigger.
“Hands up,” I say.
Semyon obeys. “Mr Baranov requested that I bring you a message. He believed a call might be overheard.”
I nearly laugh. “By who? God?”
“By people inside your own organisation, potentially.”
That gets my attention.
I don’t show it.
“My organisation,” I repeat. “Careful.”
“He meant no disrespect.”
“Everyone means disrespect. The difference is whether they survive it.” I take one step closer. “What message?”
“Karpov is making a move.”
“And?” Konstantin Karpov is a powerful pakhan, but not in Baron’s league. He runs part of the east side with the Baranovs in the south east.
“It’s a warning to your pakhan.”
“Why is he coming after the Voronov pakhan? And why are we having this discussion in the middle of the street?”
“You forced us to pull over.”
I snort. “You were trying to box me in where you wanted me? Are you for fucking real?”
He has the grace to look abashed. “Mr Baranov said you’d be ornery.”
“He is one to talk. What is the warning?”
“I already gave it to you.”
“That’s it? Karpov is making a move?”
“Tell your pakhan,” Semyon says, taking a step back. When I don’t shoot him, he moves again and slides into the Audi, with his men following.
“Fuck’s sake,” Yuri mutters.
“You could say that again,” I say and step aside as the Audi reverses at speed, barely giving Grisha time to move the Range Rover. I feel like shooting his tyres out just to be a prick.
I don’t. But this has thrown a spanner in the works. My family loyalty over Galina’s.
“Fuck!” I roar and slam my fist into the wall at my back.
“Get back to Grisha,” I snap at Yuri.
He strides off, and I move back to my car, fuming at Voran. He couldn’t have picked a worse time.
I yank the door open and fold myself into the car, slamming the door shut with a curse.
“What did they want?” Galina asks.
“Voronov business,” I grit out. My world has found her, same as hers has found me. The difference is that I intend to keep her alive through it.
Her gaze is on my hand. “Then we go home and deal with it.”
I breathe in and let it out with a sigh. “I have to.”
“And I’m telling you to go.”
“I’m letting you down.”
“No,” she says with a soft laugh. “We don’t even know if my dad is there.
Look. I think we can safely say we are right about his plans.
I’m not about to make your first lesson in being my husband one where I punish you for having another fire to put out.
I will call him when we get home, and I’ll have to do this over the airwaves. ”
“You should be angrier.”
“Why? Because you have family business that needs attending to. Your life, everyone’s lives don’t stop for me, Laszlo.”
“Who are you and what did you do with my fiancée?” I ask suspiciously.
She lifts one eyebrow. “Maybe she got tired of arguing with you every five minutes.”
I start the engine and pull out of the mews. “I don’t like it.”
“I know. You enjoy me being difficult.”
“I do. It means I get to spank you.”
Her expression shifts at that. Not much. Just enough for me to see it land.
The Range Rover falls in behind us again, tighter this time.
Good. I take the route back toward Baron’s house without pushing the speed.
My head is already moving ahead, through Voran, through Karpov, through what the fuck kind of move requires a warning sent through a tail in traffic instead of a direct call to Baron.
It means distrust. It means someone thinks lines aren’t secure.
It means someone inside one of our organisations is talking.