29. Andrei
Andrei
N ikita stands at the head of the room swirling a glass of cognac, working hard to give off an air of inflated self-importance. He seems to think that because he was Maksim’s right hand, he deserves to be showered with respect and has a right to the power and position of pakhan.
He’s oblivious to the fact that he lacks both the charm and the authority required to lead anyone. Without Maksim here, he’s nothing but another ego in a suit.
Alexei takes another long drink from his glass, feigning boredom as he watches the room. Outwardly, he looks just like everyone else. Black suit. Drink in hand. Not a tear to spare for our fallen leader as his eyes shift from man to man, inspecting them each in turn.
The only thing giving away his irritation is how tightly he holds his shoulders, refusing to let his guard down.
He always was smarter than he let on.
The women and children left the funeral over an hour ago, and the crowd is starting to get restless. They no longer appear to be content to reminisce and pretend to talk shop. They’re waiting for someone to take charge and turn this into a proper meeting, but no one’s stepping up.
So many of the men here think they can lead, but none of them have the balls to actually take the first step and seize the crown.
Nikita takes another look around, clearly expecting someone else to do the work while he reaps the glory and steps up to declare himself the new pakhan.
Beside me, Alexei subtly tenses, unable to keep from boring holes into the side of Nikita’s head. His expression has fallen out of his neutral mask, lip ticking up in a snarl.
I nudge him with my elbow before he can act on his sudden anger. The intensity in his eyes doesn’t ease, but he does look away from Nikita long enough to shift his glare to me. It only lasts a moment before he goes back to his silent vigil.
“You know, if you really want to let him hang himself with his own noose, you’ll take whatever power he thinks he has for yourself.”
Out of everyone here, Alexei’s the best man to take over, something I was hoping he’d figure out in his own time, but he needs to get over whatever his hang ups are before he does.
I’m not afraid to give him a nudge if that’s what it takes.
His eyes snap to mine, finally breaking up the monopoly Nikita has had on his attention.
“You already have weight to throw around with how much money you earn,” I point out. “At least you know how to manage something. That’s more than he can say. ”
Really, what’s so different between running nearly a half dozen clubs and a criminal syndicate? It’s all about knowing how to manage people. Alexei’s more than proven himself capable in that regard.
He nods idly, like he’s only half listening to me, but it’s enough.
“I could also let him flounder. He’ll crash and burn in his own time.” His tone is bland, like he doesn’t care either way, but the tick in his jaw betrays him.
I watch curiously as he resumes scanning the room.
Nikita Dyomin isn’t popular among the men. He’s slimy and standoffish, but I can’t figure out why Alexei is focusing his ire onto him. He has the means to make hell for anyone in this room, so why Nikita?
“You could,” I concede, “but we’re already fighting one war. Is his failure worth risking another?”
The mess with The Outfit quickly spiraled out of control when the police made a show of investigating Maksim’s death.
It’s turned into something that will take time to clean up.
It’ll tie up time, money, men, and firepower that, frankly, we aren’t in a good place to lose.
Not without someone with a plan pulling strings behind the scenes.
Without a level head in charge, we’ll end up shedding every resource we think we have faster than we have any hope of replenishing them.
Add an internal power struggle on top of everything else, and we’ll be left with a shit show that will have no other outcome than catastrophic disaster .
I’d rather we not try to fight a war on two fronts, but if Alexei’s going to refuse to step up, I won’t force him to. I can only hope that he doesn’t let Nikita bury us all before he gets a chance to start digging us out.
“Perhaps.” The corner of Alexei’s lip twitches into a smirk that he quickly conceals behind his glass.
“Do I even want to know why you’re focusing on him?” I ask. He lifts a single shoulder in a shrug, and I know that that’s as much of an answer as he’s likely to give me for now. “Then pull your head out of your ass and stop looking at him like you’re plotting his death.”
He looks at me, eyes cutting.
“And how am I supposed to look at him, Andrei? Like I respect him? Like he has my undying loyalty? Should I put on a show before I stab him in the back?” I meet his stare, not blinking. “Or, wait, it was the throat, wasn’t it?”
His look around the room is pointed, making the unspoken threat more than clear.
“Isn’t it better to be straightforward? Why bother with the underhandedness?”
The men in this room are already a loaded powder keg. A single spark, and they’ll turn on me faster than I can come up with a defense. In their need for revenge, it wouldn’t matter who I am to them or what I’ve done, only what they think happened.
They’d gladly make me another casualty.
I squint, trying to figure Alexei out.
I don’t think he wants to turn on me. I think he’s trying to deflect, to keep me from prying into whatever his deal with Nikita is. I just don’t know why he’s being so forceful about it .
“Loyalty is earned,” I say with a shrug. “As you know.”
I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, and he knows it. If he’s serious, then I’ll make sure he’s the first one I take down. I won’t be able to make it out of this room alive, but I can guarantee he won’t, either.
He nods to himself, and I force my shoulders to fall.
“Relax. My sister would take great joy in skinning me alive if I let anything happen to you.”
“If you let anything happen that would upset her friend, you mean.”
Nadya and Blair have been as thick as thieves lately. If something were to happen that would upset Blair, Alexei would have Nadya breathing down his neck, and if something upset Nadya, I’d have the same from Blair.
Clearly, he isn’t happy about it, but I’m thrilled that Blair has someone in her corner. It’s the first time I’ve been able to see what she’s like with someone she calls a friend. And seeing her happiness is something I’ll never sacrifice, no matter how annoying it makes Alexei.
“For the record, being discreet and being manipulative are very different things.”
He scoffs. “Still doesn’t feel right.”
“Doesn’t have to. It’s kept me kicking so far, hasn’t it?”
“I guess I can’t argue with the results.” He shrugs, looking more relaxed than he has in weeks.
“By the way,” I say as I lean against the wall. Now that I know he isn’t going to try to have me killed, I might as well have a little fun with him. “Did you lose a fight with a street cat? Or were you mauled by a different type of beast? ”
His hand goes to the back of his neck, covering the red scrapes that peek out over the edge of his collar.
“Fuck off, Andrei.”
I smirk into my glass, trying not to chuckle.
Alexei’s normally so composed and put together that whenever there’s a single thread of his appearance out of place, it throws him off.
“I’ll tell her to put away the claws next time,” he mutters.
I take a sip of my drink to drown the huff of laughter, trying not to draw any attention to myself.
No one’s looked at me twice today, and if it stays that way, I’ll be able to leave happy.
I don’t know exactly what Blair’s been rubbing on the scratches on my face.
It smells like honey, and she says that it helps small wounds heal faster.
To be fair, it seems to have worked. Between the ointment and growing out my facial hair, the remains of Maksim’s attempts to defend himself are difficult to see.
Then again, most people tend to be so caught up in their own heads that they don’t notice much about anyone else in the first place. Not even men who should know how to be observant. If it doesn’t affect them, they dismiss it without a second thought.
Every man here is too busy looking over their own shoulder to see the red flags that are practically dancing in a conga line down the center of the room.
They don’t notice that all the older men have gathered around Nikita, quietly arranging themselves around the man they assume will lead.
They don’t notice that most of the other men are scattered, watching warily as the booze flows freely.
They don’t notice that the thin threads that have tied us all together are fraying at both ends.
It’s only a matter of time before it all comes to a breaking point, and only those who can keep their heads up will manage to dodge the shrapnel.
“Gentlemen,” Nikita drawls, bringing all eyes to him. He pauses as if to savor his time in the spotlight. I hold back an eye roll, while Alexei is as stiff as a board. His shoulders are drawn back, fists held tight.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was looking for a fight.
“How about we deal with those Italians?”