19. Dominic
Dominic
Huddled around our laptops, Marco, Leo, Nico, and I watch our streaming feed from Jorge Santos’s Puerto Rico condo. Leo and Lucas set up our computers with the surveillance program before we left Las Vegas.
“How long until they arrive?” Nico asks, placing his headphones around his neck.
Leo checks an iPad next to him. “Our guys are only a few minutes out.” Our guys are three associates we brought along for grunt work, like following Kozlova and Perez from the airport to the condo, just in case they head to a different location.
“So, they’re definitely going where we think they are?” Marco asks.
Leo nods. “They just turned on Avenida Ashford. I doubt they’re going anywhere else.”
I check the audio on my laptop. “Everyone’s devices working?”
“Yep,” Nico answers while Marco gives a thumbs-up.
“They’re turning into the garage,” Leo says, placing his headphones over his ears.
“Let’s go!” Marco locks in, turning up the volume and leaning toward his screen.
A few minutes pass before anything happens. At the sound of a deadlock turning, our backs straighten, and we hone in as the condo door opens. First in is a Kozlova enforcer, followed by a few Medina associates, and then the men we’re waiting for. Anatoliy Kozlova and Esteban Perez.
“Ah, yes,” Esteban says, walking to the dining room table and placing down a laptop bag. “But have you tried their fried plantains? That’s what the place is known for.”
Kozlova chuckles before dropping to the couch and spreading his arms along the back. “Of course. They were eh.” He holds out his hand and wobbles it side to side.
Esteban shakes his head and takes a lounge chair across from Kozlova. “Blasphemy.”
The men’s laughter dies quickly as the atmosphere between them shifts.
“It’s been a while since we’ve talked,” Perez says.
“There hasn’t been a reason to.” Anatoliy turns to one of his men and motions for a cigar box sitting on a nearby wet bar.
He sets the box on the coffee table between Esteban and himself, and the two take a moment to light cigars.
After a long drag and blowing a puff of smoke into the air, Anatoliy continues. “Our sales are going well.”
“Remaining steady.” Esteban nods. “Despite those who aim to stop us.”
Anatoliy snorts. “We’ll get to the Tariellos soon enough.”
“Very soon,” Esteban says.
The hair on the back of my neck rises as I share a look with Leo.
“I’m having some issues in Chicago.” Esteban taps ash off his cigar into a tray.
“What’s your plan?”
Esteban leans back, sucking on the cigar. “I’m workin’ on it.”
“Fuckers,” Nico mutters while cracking his knuckles.
“But that’s less important than our business,” Esteban continues. “Santos will help me deal with that.”
I glance at my cousin, who is glaring daggers at his monitor.
“Business is going well,” Anatoliy says. “Revenue has been better than expected.”
“True.” Esteban nods. “Let’s say our market is strong.”
Both men chuckle as if sharing an inside joke. For a moment, they pause, focusing on their cigars more than each other.
“We need Las Vegas.” Anatoliy breaks the silence.
“You want Las Vegas,” Esteban counters.
“Don’t you?”
Esteban sighs, tapping his cigar on the ashtray between them. “I don’t disagree that the revenue would be nice, but at what cost?”
“We can take out the Tariellos.” Anatoliy leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, while his cigar dangles from his mouth.
“Our men who attended the Pharaoh’s Temple gala would disagree.”
Anatoliy laughs, plucking the cigar from his mouth. “We sent four men into the lion’s den. What did you expect? They were martyrs, to give us an idea of what we’re up against.”
Esteban hums his disagreement but doesn’t argue. “What do you propose? Dominic Tariello has shut down business in that city. I don’t see a way to run our product without completely wiping out his organization.”
I grit my teeth as my brother glances my direction. We’ve made progress building our army, but I don’t know that we’re ready to take on the full force of the Bratva and a cartel.
“Our next move should help.” Anatoliy smirks, causing Esteban to shake his head in amusement.
“Our next move will awaken the beast.”
“Yes.” Anatoliy stubs out his cigar. “But we all know that Tariello makes rash decisions when provoked, and what better way to provoke him?”
“Our idea didn’t turn out well last time.” Esteban cocks an eyebrow.
Anatoliy shrugs. “That was on a small scale. This time, the entire organization will be in a panic, and we’ll come in while they’re scrambling.”
“And then what?”
“Then,” Anatoliy says, “we bring in our girls and set up shop.”
Leo and I exchange a glance, in agreement. We’ll do whatever it takes to stop human trafficking—in Las Vegas and anywhere else that we can get a foothold.
With defensive battle plans forming in my head, I nearly miss Esteban’s next question.
“When do we go in for the Tariello women?”
Anatoliy’s expression morphs as my blood boils, and my pulse quickens at the sinister smirk that crosses his face.
“Do you remember me telling you that one of them is pregnant?”
Esteban mutters, “Sure.”
“The baby shower is today. All the Tariello women will be there: Dominic’s girl, his new sister-in-law, his mother, hell, even the adviser’s chick who planned the damn event.”
The air in our hotel suite thickens. I hold my breath as my back straightens and the same panic I felt when Cassandra was kidnapped washes over me.
“The best part is, the men won’t be there. Other than a few measly guards, these bitches are completely unprotected.”
Marco grabs his computer, as if he can strangle Kozlova and Perez through the screen—the plastic cracks under his deadly grip.
“So what?” Esteban asks. “You’re going to kidnap them all this time?”
“Kidnap?” Anatoliy laughs. “Fuck no. We’re putting a bullet in each of their skulls. We want their organization crippled, falling at our feet. We want to throw a punch they’ll never recover from.”
Esteban’s lips twitch before a bloodthirsty grin stretches his mouth wide. “Bravo, my friend. When do we attack?”
I can’t listen to more. Throwing my headphones down, I jump to my feet.
“Get Lucas on the fucking phone!”