33. Viktor
VIKTOR
Iwaited near the building where the press conference was held. The men who came with me were only on standby, should there be any chaos or violence.
Besides, I wanted to see the man himself.
Even from a distance, I wanted to lock my sights on Smithson and know that the man who tried to get Wren killed would soon suffer.
I doubted that it could have been personal.
He didn’t know Wren when he had her go to the stakeout that one night in his place.
He wasn’t aware of anything about her except the fact that she was newly transferred to the department.
To him, she was just a person, a body, someone nameless and unidentifiable to him that he could sacrifice in place of himself.
It wasn’t personal. Not then. But since the bullet had missed her and since she had run away only to ultimately be caught by me, it had become extremely personal for me.
It was personal now, with him shouting and trying to insist on national television that he was innocent and that Wren was a disgraced agent on the run and wanted for her “lies”.
The short, beady-eyed man’s hatred became extremely personal when he tried to spin what the reporter was insinuating, that he was behind mass corruption and was accepting dirty money for bribes.
In terms of exposing him with the maximum attention and impact, it was going well.
He stood up there blustering and panicking.
A vein showed on his brow as he yelled and screamed and defended his name.
Other agents joined the melee, verbally making asses of themselves as more questions were flung from the press pool.
Security guards and officers moved into place, trying to form a wall between the agents giving the press conference and the reporters who all stood and were clamoring to see and speak to the agents.
It was a mess.
But what I wanted to witness and gloat about a little more was how some of the people on the stage didn’t seem too pleased about the reporter’s accusations.
There you go.
Start the seeds of doubt.
None of us were in this for Smithson to get his hands slapped. A mere disciplinary action wouldn’t be enough. Watching him lose his job would be cute, I supposed, but it was his life that he owed in repayment for trying to get Wren killed, for having any part in Gregori’s plans.
But having him face pressure from his boss—if any of them weren’t also complicit with corruption—was icing on the cake.
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my pocket while keeping an eye on all that was going on in the disaster of a press conference. I assumed it was Wren, waiting to weigh in on this while she watched it at home. It wasn’t her.
Lev had texted me from the other side of the room.
Lev: If you try to shoot him now, it might be too much of a public hit.
I lifted my head and smirked at him. He shrugged and texted again.
Lev: You look like you’re about to run up there and snap his neck, the broadcast be damned.
As a matter of fact, I was tempted to end this asshole right now.
But even I knew I had to watch it. If I killed him with so many witnesses around us, I’d be fast-tracked to the police station.
While our legal services were top-notch, it’d be damn near impossible to get away with executing a law enforcement officer in front of so many eyewitnesses.
I intended to spend the rest of my life with Wren, and that was the only thing that held me back.
Eventually, when things got so out of hand with Smithson and the agents arguing and trying to reach the reporters who all teamed up to stubbornly demand the truth, I knew it was time to go.
The damage had been done.
Smithson would know that we were one step ahead and unwilling to back down from the fight.
Gregori would also learn of our interference and understand that he could forget about claiming a victory as the mastermind of his network designed to weaken us.
Lev, Nikolai, and I left with our small team of men, and with our exit, I wanted to be confident that Smithson would think twice about fucking with us again.
When I got home and checked on Wren, I was distracted from wondering if Smithson and his corrupt friends would retaliate. With Wren acting down, I wanted to devote all my attention to her.
After a large family dinner, where Adrik updated us about how hard it was to track down Rico Johnson all of a sudden, I watched Wren and worried about how this was impacting her personally.
Hearing Smithson accuse her of being a liar on national news couldn’t have made her feel good, but I had to have faith that she knew she was fighting the good fight, even if it was with us instead.
When I stopped through the kitchen after we were done eating, I tipped my chin up to acknowledge Elena coming through that way as well. “Hey. How did Wren handle the news earlier?”
She sighed, letting her shoulders drop. Leaning her hip against the counter, she frowned at me.
Okay. Message received. She didn’t handle it well despite kind of acting happy for me when I got here.
“She was bothered about what he said. Obviously. But I think we all contributed to making her see that she has a place with us, you know? That she doesn’t have to prioritize or worry about what Smithson says or what the rest of the world thinks of her.
Because she really matters to us. A lot.
I know it’s been hectic and she’s been working on this investigation nonstop, but she’s more than just another employee.
She’s a friend, and I think that the more we encourage her to see that, the more…
stable she’ll feel about counting on us all to have her back on the bad days like today was. ”
I gave her a small smile. “Thank you. And I know what you mean.”
She looked relieved, relaxing more. “I really enjoy having her as a friend. A coworker. Just having her in our family.”
“Me too. Thank you for helping her feel like she has a place with us.”
That night, I made sure to show her how she had a place with me, in our bed.
By the time morning arrived, it was clear that the ripples of what happened at that press conference were making their way through the world. I woke up before Wren and got a workout in my gym at the back of my house before I headed in to find Paul in the kitchen.
“What’s the latest?” I asked him.
He let out a deep sigh. “Adrik will be contacting you soon, I imagine.” He finished his coffee at the island. “A couple of agents headed up a task force at one of the warehouses.”
“Fuck.” I set my hands on the edge of the marble surface.
I’d been wondering when they’d try something like that.
People could move but product couldn’t. We hid where we stored our goods and of course, the sites were patrolled and well-guarded, but the locations where we stored our goods would always be a vulnerability. “Which one?”
“At the docks.”
I cursed and cringed. Those warehouses in the San Diego and Los Angeles areas were more remote from us and harder to man, but they were vital with the waterways in regard to easier distribution.
“LA?”
He shook his head.
I hadn’t counted on needing to potentially go to San Diego today, but it would depend on what Adrik decided.
Paul filled me in on the news that had come in overnight from the crews we had positioned near those dock warehouses.
FBI and DEA teams, plus other state task forces, swarmed the area.
It was a clear retaliation against what we’d wanted to achieve yesterday by exposing Smithson for his crimes of corruption, and we would be dealing with much more trouble now of cleanup and getting out of more charges from multiple levels of the law enforcement agencies.
It took the heat off Smithson, too, because all that was talked about now was this major sting operation they’d launched on our warehouse.
I expected it to be why Adrik called me so early, but he had something else on his mind.
“Maksim and Nikolai can manage the fallout of that sting,” he said. “I need you and Alexei ready to go with me to deal with Rico Johnson instead.”
I scowled. “Why him?”
“Because he’s claiming that we have to help him. He says that the Konstantins are trying to take out a hit on them because he’s not favoring them as much as he is us.”
“Fuck his favors and who he wants to cheat with.” I rolled my eyes.
“That’s my sentiment as well, but now that he’s outright accusing Kirill Konstantin of placing a hit on him, he’s whining for our protection.”
“The fuck?” I rubbed my beard. “We don’t owe him any protection.
He’s not under our responsibilities.” I paused, wondering if he could be and that was why he always kept coming back to try to talk to Adrik and get donations from him.
All those politicians were the same—annoying and begging for scraps of money. “Wait. Is he?”
“Is he what?”
“Is Rico Johnson supposed to be under our protection? Did Father arrange something before he had that stroke?”
“Not as far as I can tell. And I’ve looked because I wondered the same thing.
He’s so persistent about being on good terms with me and staying relevant.
Like he thinks he’s some great ally or friend.
I started to worry that Father had started an agreement with him that he’d always have our backing and vice versa.
I can’t find anything that would indicate a binding agreement or pact.
Whenever I mention Father, he doesn’t jump on mentioning anything specific either, like a reference to something that would’ve been grandfathered into effect between him and the Bratva. ”
I exhaled in relief. “Good.”
“Because if I’m not on the track of thinking that, that Father could have promised him protection or money or backing, then I’m inclined to wonder how much the Konstantins are involved in all this.”