27. Andrei #2
And if they really are behind the shooting, I need to do something to get them off my back.
I’ve just managed to scrape this family together. I’m not going to give them up without a fight.
“Do you really want to know?” I swallow thickly. I’ve already got a slew of fights set up in front of me. If I have to add Alexei to the list, he might end up being the thing that brings my whole plan crashing down around me.
“No. No, I guess I don’t.”
“Wonderful. In that case, I’ll be at your place in five and you can give me his number in person.”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Andrei?” he snarls, but I hang up before he can work himself into a frenzy. If I’m going to do this, I can’t worry about Blair’s safety right now. As mad as he might be, Alexi will look after them until I come back.
“You’re going to be okay,” I say, but I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince Blair or myself. She will be okay. I’ll move heaven and earth if I have to. I’ll break everything I’ve ever worked for and let it burn to the ground. As long as Blair and Niko are safe, nothing else matters.
When I pull up in front of his building, Alexei’s waiting for us, arms crossed over his chest. I don’t realize until I lay eyes on him that I was half expecting him to be holding a gun, ready to shoot me before I even got out of the car.
Unlike Blair, he hasn’t asked me about Pavel’s murder, but he’s not stupid enough not to have worked out what happened. And he’s smart enough to know what I’m planning on doing now, too .
I race around the car, holding the door open for Blair and Niko, who’s managed to cry himself to sleep.
Alexei’s face is stormy, like he can’t figure out whether to start yelling or go straight to throwing punches, but when he takes in our appearances and Blair’s red-rimmed eyes, he hurries us into the lobby.
The doors close behind us with a gust of wind as he shoves a piece of paper into my hands.
“I take it I’m looking after these guys tonight?”
I nod. “You keep them safe, and we’re even. You won’t owe me a damn thing.”
Blair presses herself into my side, her weight a welcome comfort that I don’t deserve.
I wrap an arm around them both, kissing the tops of their heads. This whole fiasco is even more miserable to bear after such a wonderful day, and I only hope I’ll be able to have more days like it in the future to make up for it.
“You’re going to come back?” There’s a hitch in her voice that sounds like she’s holding back tears, and I clench my jaw hard enough that my teeth hurt.
“If I can.” Her watery eyes meet mine, and I wish that I could reassure her.
I want to promise her that everything will be alright. That I’m going to come home and hold her while she sleeps. But even if everything goes according to plan, I’m probably still walking straight into a trap.
I can’t promise her that I’ll be able to walk away at the end. But I’m sure as hell going to try .
I grip the back of her neck and pull her into a searing kiss, desperate to feel her against me for as long as I can.
“I love you,” I murmur against her lips.
Alexei guides her away from me, herding them toward the elevator, and, crucially, away from the massive glass windows that offer no privacy or protection from the street. I smile at her, taking in every detail of her face as the elevator doors slide shut behind them.
In the next heartbeat, I’m pulling out my phone.
The sooner this is done and over with, the sooner I can come back to them.
***
I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting Marcell Renzuto before, and I also can’t say I’ve ever wanted to.
He has a reputation for being as charming as he is calculating, the kind of man who will do anything to get a new car or another source of cash. He’s treacherous, but no more than any other man around him.
He stands to greet me as his gold rings glint in the dim lighting.
The smile on his face is as welcoming as a shark’s.
It does nothing to distract me from the five men placed strategically around the room, each standing with their hands clasped in front of them, a firearm displayed prominently on their hips.
Yeah, I’ve never felt more welcome anywhere in my life.
“Andrei Voronov, in the flesh.” His eyes glint with malice, and I feel the absence of my gun like a physical ache. I’m not making the smartest choices today, but I don’t have a death wish. When his man searched me at the door, I didn’t hesitate to surrender my weapons.
If Renzuto wants me dead, there’s nothing I can do to prevent it. My weapons would do nothing but accelerate how quickly he’d make it happen.
“What brings you to our part of town? You don’t strike me as the sort of man to offer condolences for our fallen friend.”
“I’m not.” I shrug as I take the seat across from him. “Especially not for a man that was so inclined to bring trouble on himself.”
The private room of his restaurant is flooded with dark red and black accents, the gold lights and candle holders sparkling in the low lighting.
If there were less guns around and the air wasn’t filled with a malevolence that promises harm to anyone who dares to linger, hell, it might even look romantic.
Each man is dressed in a tailored suit, not a hair out of place. It only serves to show exactly how out of place I am in my jeans and the hoodie I had to steal back from Blair.
Something tells me that no other man in this room would dare to be caught dressed in anything but their Sunday best.
A lot of things can be said about the Russian brand of organized crime, mostly that it doesn’t have much organization going for it.
It’s chaotic and messy, which can be a strength just as much as it can be a vulnerability.
It’s hard to attack something that has no real structure, but it’s also hard to control.
The Outfit, though less organized than some crime families, is far too rigid in their roles.
Even in this display of manpower, Marcell’s showing both them and me that he has solders who would die for him.
Men that would fall for someone who doesn’t even truly hold the reins of their operation, for nothing but smoke and mirrors.
It’s nothing but a disgusting performance.
The formality that is entrenched in every moment of this show is enough to make any man want to start throwing punches. No one can live within The Outfit’s strict lines and remain themselves. Not really. They’ll always end up boiled down to a machine that exists solely to follow orders.
“And yet, here you are. Why bother gracing me with your presence?” Marcell’s still smiling, but he no longer looks amused.
Heaven forbid I don’t play his fucking game.
“I was shot at earlier while I was out with my wife and her son.” It’s a fight to keep my tone even, and the subtle shift in his posture tells me he can hear my simmering rage.
“That’s unfortunate, but I fail to see how it should concern me.” He waves a dismissive hand in front of him, and it hits me all over again that I could have lost them.
In the blink of an eye, Blair and Niko could’ve been nothing but stains on the sidewalk. Not because of this man, but because of the whims of his boss. Just because of who my boss is.
If I were to lose them, it’d break me.
“You and yours want revenge for what happened to Sotero, yes?” I ask. He raises a single dark brow, his expression bored.
I lost my chance to back out of this when I called him, and I’ve never been one to beat around the bush, so I simply say, “I will kill Maksim Maslov. He’ll cease to live, and without him there will be no one to push the Bratva further into your territories. ”
Renzuto leans forward, tapping his index finger against his thumb while he considers it.
“And why would you do that?”
“The bloodshed is going to continue. Things have gone too far for it not to, and we both know it. But leave my family out of it.”
“Just like that?” He leans back in his chair, and I wonder if he even has the authority to make the call on this. “I give you my word, and Maksim’s gone? You won’t come after us in the future?”
I shake my head, well aware that if he dismisses me, I’m either going to die in this room and be marked as a traitor, or they’ll sell me out and let the rest of the Bratva take care of me. I’m loyal to our cause, but no one else will see it that way. They’ll just see what I’ve offered to do.
I’m not loyal to Maksim, though. He isn’t worthy of it. He never was.
But Blair and Niko? They’re worth everything.
Nothing will sway me from doing everything I can to protect them.
“I don’t control the Bratva, and I have no interest in trying to,” I tell him. “But you won’t have to worry about whoever takes over killing off your men because the wind has changed direction.”
His eyes watch me with an intensity that matches what I’m feeling.
It doesn’t take a genius to see that we’re already heading toward war. The dominoes have been set into motion, and nothing that happens in this room will be able to stop them. All we can do is try to mitigate the losses.
War is expensive, both in money and blood. To pretend otherwise would be beyond foolish, and for a man who’s been presented with the chance to stem the bleeding, it would be suicidal. My eyes flick to the guard closest to the door and back again, watching as Marcell runs the numbers.
I’m not surprised he brought so many men with him. It’s crucial to their operations that he does everything in his power to protect himself, to give off the illusion of power.
But it’s also more mouths who will know exactly what is said in this room. It’s more men that may lose someone further down the line. And if they do, there’s no amount of threats he’ll be able to issue that will keep the details of this conversation confidential.
All the structure and formality may be able to buy a man’s soul, but they can’t buy his loyalty.
When he meets my eye, his cutting glare tells me he’s come to the same conclusion.
Marcell’s only in his role to be the boss for the men on the streets, someone to distract the feds while the real boss works behind the scenes. If he loses his men, he’s nothing.
He’s completely powerless.
For men like us, it’s a fate worse than death.
“As I said, the only thing I want is assurance that your family won’t put mine in harm’s way again.”
He rolls his neck, like he’s trying to fight demons off his back, and I know I’ve got him .
“Fine,” he bites out, jaw tight, like I’ve talked him into selling himself out instead of making a reasonable offer. “But only after he’s dead. Until then, they’re fair game.”
Trusting his word is tortuous, but I have no choice.
“Deal.”