Chapter 34
Maximo
The look in Constance’s eyes makes something twist deep inside me.
I feel a strange mixture of dark pride and admiration, tinged with fear.
The pride is certainly because she’s taken control of her grief and turned it into action.
The fear though, that’s my concern, that killing an unarmed man might tear her apart.
The other shootings she did were necessary, self-defense. This was cold-blooded revenge.
I know that Constance was justified, and I hope that will be enough to protect her.
Still, the part of me that remembers my first kill can’t help wondering how she’ll feel when the silence comes later.
Once the adrenaline fades and you’re alone in the dark hours of the night, these sorts of actions tend to slip out from under the bed and haunt you.
After I give Spicy his orders and follow Constance into the kitchen, I feel as if I have to voice my concerns. “Are you okay?” I ask her as she looks in a cabinet for an unbroken glass. She runs some water from the tap and takes a sip, then glares at me with a look sharp enough to rival any blade.
“I’m not going to break, Maximo. I thought killing him would destroy something in me, but it didn’t.
It settled something,” she says. “And I’m not finished.
” Her voice drops, steady and terrifying.
“I won’t be until Kirill and Alexei Volkov are dead.
That’s the only way I’ll ever have peace again.
That’s the only way I’ll ever have a future worth looking forward to.
” Her voice softens just a fraction. “A future I hope includes you.”
My chest tightens. I reach for her hand and pull her closer.
“I need you to understand something, Constance. For me, this isn’t about the Russians muscling into my city.
That’s just part of the business, and it never ends.
This is about you. About making you whole again, about carving out a future for the two of us.
It’s not just about revenge or securing my business interests. It’s you. Only you.”
Her hand squeezes mine, steady and certain, and for the first time that night, my doubts ease.
I hear the front door bang open, and a moment later, Spicy steps into the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag stained a dull rust-red.
“Boss,” he says, a grin tugging at his scarred lips.
“The body’s loaded. My boys are at the docks now and they got eyes on some Bratva they recognized hanging around a yacht. ”
I nod. “Good. If Kirill thinks a yacht buys him safety, he’s forgotten who owns the harbor.
Make sure my yacht is stocked and ready to sail.
We’ll keep the plan simple. Once they think they’re safe tonight, we’ll off any guards they have posted and then finish off whoever is on board.
We’ll take the boat out a ways from shore, set fire to it, and have a drink on my yacht while we watch it sink.
You got it, Spicy? I want no survivors.”
Spicy’s phone buzzes, and he glances at it, a smile playing on his lips. “Message just came in. My boys say it looks like the Volkovs’ crew are all set to leave. Perfect time to strike.”
I grab Constance’s hand to pull her along with me.
The trucks wait out front, still scarred with bullet holes from the earlier assault.
Over a dozen of our men are already gathering, loading weapons and checking magazines.
One of them is swapping out the license plates with the fakes we use for these sorts of activities.
I cast one last look at Constance. She doesn’t flinch. If anything, she looks eager. Hungry.
“Then it’s settled,” I say. “Tonight, we finish this.”
Constance nods to me and taking her hand, I place a kiss on top of it and tell her, “Go grab your gun and whatever else you need to bring. We leave in five.”
It takes longer than I would like to get from the estate to the docks.
Only two of my Escalades were in any shape to be driven, so Constance and I are wedged into the rear seat to leave room for my crew and all their gear.
I spend part of the ride emailing several contractors to inquire about services to repair the estate.
“We’ll stay at the tower tonight,” I tell her. “Somewhere the Russians don’t expect us to run.”
“Now you know how I felt when I saw what was left of the apartment over the restaurant,” she replies as she places a hand on my knee and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
I smile at her as I make another phone call. “Luca, it’s Maximo. Were you able to finish covering the windows?”
“Yes, sir, we’re just finishing up,” he replies.
“Good. Once that’s done, lock up as best you can and send everyone home.
I need you to go by the store and pick up some drinks and snacks, then head over to my penthouse and make sure everything is ready for visitors.
Constance, me, and some of the crew will be joining you there later tonight, so make sure everything is well stocked. ”
“I’m on it.”
“I’ll see you in a few hours, Luca. Call me if there is any trouble.”
“Will do.”
I end the call and rest my hand on Constance’s arm. “I prefer to stay outside the city, but I keep the entire top floor penthouse of the Luciani Financial Groups tower for myself. I stay there when I know I have early meetings to avoid having to deal with traffic.”
“You really do live in a different world than most of us, don’t you?” Constance asks me with a smile.
“I do. And while I was excited to get a chance to show it to you, I’m afraid that this little war the Bratva have thrust on us has given you a terrible opinion of my world. I hope that it hasn’t tainted your opinion of me.”
“Tainted my opinion?” Constance laughs as she gives me a quick side-eye.
“My father was murdered and his life’s work burned down.
The police and fire marshal have barely begun an investigation, while you’ve helped me track down the men who did this and bring them to justice.
When I first walked into your home, my opinion was that you were just as much at fault as the men who actually lit the match.
I was prepared to hate you, but you’ve proven yourself to me time and time again these last few days.
I appreciate you, Maximo, and all that you’ve done. ”
Before I can respond, Spicy interrupts from the seat in front of us. “Okay, boss, we’re almost there. We’ll have to park out a bit and then walk down the pier to get to the yacht. I just texted Reggie, whose keeping watch. He said everything is ready. Now, how do you want to handle this?”
Spicy is crammed into the middle seat with two of his men, who are nervously rechecking their weapons.
I glance over at Constance and see her doing the same with the pistol she drew from her purse.
I reach over and place a hand over it, then lean over to her, my voice low.
“This time, let my men earn their keep.”
Her lips part, ready to argue, but I cut her off. “No debate. You and I are going to hang back this time. I don’t want there to be any more accidents. You’re still recovering from a gunshot. Stay with me until the boat’s clear. Understood?”
She eventually gives me a small nod, though the fire in her eyes tells me she doesn’t like it, but she accepts it. For now.
We park several blocks from the marina, behind a warehouse and out of sight of any security cameras.
Covering their faces with the black gaiters around their necks, Spicy and his men swarm out of the trucks, their boots hitting the pavement in near silence.
I pass Constance a neck gaiter and pull one over my own head, then follow my crew.
The harbor stinks of saltwater and diesel.
As we creep toward the pier where the yachts are moored, I can see Constance’s nose crinkle even through her mask.
When we’re halfway down the pier, a shadow moves and separates from the deck of a boat.
As it comes closer, I recognize Spicy’s man, Reggie, who’s been texting him updates.
Silently, he points to his eyes and then down the pier to a well-lit yacht, then holds up two fingers.
“I only counted two guards,” he whispers as he joins us.
“You need me to go in with you and handle them?”
Spicy shakes his head just as I say, “No, you go tell the crew on my yacht to be ready to set sail. Spicy will be along soon to take the boat out.”
“You got it, sir,” Reggie replies as he walks past us and towards the other pier, where my boat is docked.
We stop in the darkness and watch the two Russians who are posted on the yacht’s deck.
They both look bored and smoke cigarettes while leaning against the ships railing, their rifles slung across their backs.
They never hear the whispers of death as Spicy waves two of his men forward, and they carefully take aim with their silenced pistols.
There are four or five barely audible thwipps and then both of the guards crumble to the deck, right where they had been standing.
The rest of my men surge forward, one of them jumping over the railing and lowering the gangplank for the rest of us. For a moment, everything is silent as we swarm the boat, then a shout goes up from below deck, and the stillness breaks.
Gunfire erupts. My men answer in kind, shouting, ducking behind railings and hatches. The boat rocks under the violence.
We keep to the shadows near the pier entrance, close enough to see the firefight but far enough not to be caught in it.
I spot him through the chaos. Kirill Volkov, pale hair slicked back, appears from the spiral staircase firing two pistols wildly at my men who duck for cover from the assault.
The coward has no intention of staying to fight; he retreats towards the rear of the boat while two more of his men cover him.
Bolting across the deck, he climbs down a ladder and leaps into a waiting speedboat tied off to the stern.