Chapter 33
Dmitri
Two nights after finding Cara’s passport, after assigning men to her building, my phone rings at midnight.
My head spins from exhaustion as I roll over in bed half-asleep, blindly reaching for my phone through the darkness as it rings. I manage to find it and answer, my eyes heavy and half-lidded.
“What?” I answer.
“Tonight’s shipment was hit! We didn’t make it ten miles before three vans boxed us in and opened fire!” Mark shouts into the phone.
I jolt upright in bed, my pulse spiking. “Again?”
“Our guys are hurt, but they’ll recover. The truck is fucked, though,” Mark tells me. “I’m at the scene now with some of the others.”
“Any sign of who attacked? Was it the Irish again?” I question him as I throw the sheets off me.
“No, they took off. The rest of us couldn’t get here in time,” Mark replies. “But the guys involved might have some more info once they stop bleeding.”
“Text me the address. I’m on my way,” I say before hanging up and rushing out of bed, my mind racing.
Once I get the address, I rush to the scene of where my men have gathered in an empty parking lot, the truck crashed into a light pole. The entire truck is riddled with bullet holes, and I can only imagine how fucked the goods are on the inside.
“How the fuck did this happen again?” I bite out, approaching the group.
“Why wouldn’t they hit us again? We haven’t answered the first strike,” Emil states as he crosses his arms over his chest.
I glare at him, not liking his goddamn attitude. “We did everything we could to identify the shooters. And what the hell do you want us to do about the Irish? We can’t just attack them without a plan!”
“I’m not sure if this was the Irish tonight,” Denis speaks up as my men start to gather around.
He holds a bundled-up t-shirt against his bleeding shoulder, tiny cuts from shattered glass marking up his face.
“I was in the passenger seat. The guns they were using weren’t the same as the ones the Irish used. The vans were different too.”
“So, who else could it be?” Isaak asks.
There’s one other enemy that we have with the fury to pull a stunt like that. I’m just surprised that they lashed out so soon. If they heard about the Irish hitting us, then they must have thought it was the perfect time to strike.
“It could be Artur Suyunov,” I tell them. “He saw an opening and isn’t happy.”
“He’s not happy with you,” Emil clarifies, making the air grow tense.
“What did you just say?” I question him through gritted teeth, sensing his bitter attitude.
“He’s right,” Mark says quietly. “We had a good relationship with the Suyunovs until you blew off the marriage. You made that decision alone.”
“He probably consulted with his office girlfriend,” Emil mutters.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” I warn him as I step into his space, my hands forming fists. I have to keep myself from punching him in the face right then and there for speaking to me like that.
What the hell is his problem?
“You haven’t noticed that shit started hitting the fan right after she came along?” Emil asks me. “You’ve gone soft since she showed up. Did you toss the marriage because of her?”
Fuck.
They really think that Cara is the cause of all this? That she’s weakened me?
She made me think clearer about what the hell I was doing with my own life, but of course these bastards don’t care. They only see the details. Not the big picture.
“I tossed the marriage because it wasn’t a good arrangement!” I bite out. “Know your place.”
“We’re all affected by the crazy shit you do!” Emil snaps back at me. “Something is up with that girl. The timing can’t be a coincidence. She came along, and things started falling apart.”
“He’s not wrong,” Isaak murmurs. “She was close with Gabe. Now he’s dead. What if she had the Irish target him specifically?”
I can only blink at him in disbelief. Do they really think that’s true?
“She’s only worked for you for a handful of weeks. Do you truly know her, boss?” Denis asks me.
Her passport flashes through my mind. The one I gave to my PI to look into and get back to me. The one with the last name that I didn’t recognize.
I want to believe her.
“I’ve spent weeks with her,” I grit out as I glare at all of them. “Cara has done nothing but help our business. She can’t be behind this.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Mark points out. “You need to test her. Or at least rough her up and question her.”
“He won’t do that. He wants her in his bed too badly. Being whipped has made him weak,” Emil says with a scoff of disappointment.
The word “weak” lights a fire within me that I can’t put out. Anger courses through me. I step forward and drive my fist into Emil’s jaw.
He grunts in pain as his head snaps to the side. He stumbles, his arms flailing to try to regain his balance.
“Whoa!” Isaak says, moving to position himself between me and Emil as he wipes the blood off the corner of his mouth. “Don’t do this, boss!”
“I told you to shut your damn mouth!” I snap at Emil as I jab my finger toward him. “I don’t trust blindly. This is either the work of the Suyunovs or the Irish, and once we figure out who, we’re going to send a message of our own.”
Emil places his hand against his cheek, spitting out blood. He glares at me, but he doesn’t say anything. I’ve made my point.
“Sir, we just…” Mark starts to speak.
I shake my head, a silent warning for him to shut up before he pisses me off even more. “I’ve given my life to this family. You don’t get to criticize my decisions. You do as you’re told.”
My men quietly nod, some of them avoiding my hard stare.
I don’t usually lash out at my own family. Not physically. But they’ve pushed me to my damn breaking point.
Everything has.
“The rest of you, get this mess cleaned up!” I bark at them before storming back to my car, not wanting to look at any of them.
They questioned me. Doubted me.
That’s new.
And they’re wrong about Cara. They have to be.
But deep down, I know that I need to verify what she’s told me.
As I drive back home, a plan unfolds in my mind, one that makes my stomach knot. I don’t want to do it, but it has to be done since I’m not going to tie her up and question her.
I’ll know the truth soon enough.
Once I return to my apartment, I grab my phone and open my messages with Cara, my heart pounding.
Won’t be at work Friday. Meeting at Legacy at noon with local bosses. Take the day off if you want.
I need Cara to be who she says she is.
For her sake, she better be.