CHAPTER 23 Matteo
Matteo
Chess is a game of precision and control, which is why I’ve always excelled at it. But the minute Lindsay Beaumont came into my life, all my precision and control went to shit.
I’ve unraveled. Changed into a version of myself I’m still not sure I understand. And it’s all because of her.
I should be angry. That she has so much control over me. Instead, all the knowledge fills me with is a measure of hopelessness and desperation.
I told her I loved her two days ago and she didn’t say it back.
Which is fine; I hadn’t been expecting her to reply.
At least she didn’t tell me to get the fuck out of her life.
She isn’t running away anymore. In fact, she’s starting to consume so much space in my life that my every breath is for her.
A dart goes flying by the side of my head before landing on the board mounted on the wall. I turn around with a glare, my eyes landing on Raffaele who’s the obvious culprit. My brother flashes me a look of lazy amusement.
“Don’t worry, fratello. I have impeccable aim,” he tells me. “Wouldn’t want to hurt your pretty-boy face the way you almost hurt mine a couple weeks back.”
I roll my eyes. No one can keep a grudge better than Raffaele. He still reminds Salvatore of the time he flushed his bunny down the toilet when we were kids.
He’s relaxed on an armchair, obscured by the shadows as he puffs on a cigar. On the other end of the room is Elio, watching, observing quietly. Salvatore sits at his desk as well, his eyes trained on the clock mounted on the wall.
We’re all waiting. Tonight, the Bratva falls. How it goes down is entirely dependent on a phone call I’m hoping to get.
“Maybe he won’t take the bait,” Elio murmurs. “It does seem suspicious that we’re reaching out to them for a truce.”
“We’re trying to force the Pakhan out of hiding. If he doesn’t take the bait, someone else important will.”
It doesn’t really matter much to me. Whoever’s calling the shots behind the scenes is who I’m after. And that’s exactly who will show up today, hooked by promises of mercy and grace.
They’re already dying and we’ve thrown them a bone to gnaw on. It would be stupid of them not to snatch up the opportunity.
Once they do, I’ll destroy every last one of them.
“Knock out one piece and they’ll all fall like dominoes,” Raffaele says with a flourish.
“Exactly,” I murmur. “No more playing it safe. I’m done with the diplomatic approach.”
Salvatore speaks gruffly. “Yes, it hasn’t escaped our notice that you’re throwing away your carefully laid plans, fratello. Care to share the reasons why?”
“I want them gone and I want them gone as soon as possible,” I answer easily.
“For Lindsay, right?”
They’ve caused my girl a great deal of pain and trauma. She’s still afraid of what they might do. I need to be able to tell her that I’ve destroyed all her demons. At least the ones that scare her.
I don’t reply to Salvatore, and he doesn’t seem to need an answer either.
“Despite my reservations, I am happy that you seem to have found someone, little brother. It fucks with your head, though, doesn’t it?”
“You have no idea,” I mutter.
Raffaele groans. “You both make me sick.”
“We’ll meet her soon, right?” Elio asks me. “A proper dinner.”
“Sure. As soon as this shitshow with the Bratva is over.”
Almost as soon as I finish the sentence, a text flashes on the screen of my phone. I read the details of the location with my jaw clenched.
“They want to meet at the shipping yard outside of town,” I inform my brothers.
Salvatore nods with satisfaction, “That’s good.”
“I’ll take a couple of men and finish things,” I inform my brothers.
Raffaele balks, eyes darkening. “Hold up, this is my turf. No way in hell I’m letting you encroach on my right to inflict pain and commit murder.”
I let out a sigh, feeling my patience start to wear thin.
“You’re not going, Raf. I need to finish this, and I need it to be over fast. Leo’s bedtime is by nine p.m.”
I’d also like to get home before Lindsay falls apart. These days, the best part of my day is going to bed with her in my arms and waking up to find her there.
“Well, how about you go and tuck my little nephew into bed while I take care of the Russians?” he states darkly.
“No. I’m doing it.”
He growls, straightening and regarding me with hot coals in his expression.
“Raffaele, calm down,” Salvatore says to our brother in Italian before turning to face me. “You’ll take as many men as you need.”
“Of course. I’m not an idiot that’s going to walk in there alone. I know they’ll want to ambush us as well, but I’ll be ready.”
“We’re counting on them not having a lot of soldiers thanks to all our efforts at dismantling them,” he reminds me. “But what if our intelligence was wrong?”
“I’ve been surveilling one of the Bratva properties,” Elio finally speaks up. “Things are definitely tense, and I know for a fact most of their men have fled.”
“Did you ever get eyes on the Pakhan?”
“Rumor is, he’s still sick,” Elio replies.
My muscles tighten beneath the suit I’m wearing, “I guess I’ll be able to confirm tonight.”
“I’m coming with you,” my youngest brother announces, making me pause.
All three of us look at him, our gazes unsure.
“I’m coming,” he repeats. “Someone’s got to have your back, Matt.”
Raffaele makes a discontented noise in the back of his throat before sliding back into the armchair.
“Y’all never let me have any fun.”
Idiot.
We hammer out the last-minute details of our plan before Elio and I leave with the men in tow.
The air in the shipping yard smells like salt and rust. I step out of the car, my eyes already moving, tracking.
Shipping containers rise around us in uneven stacks, metal on metal, creating narrow corridors and blind corners. Floodlights cut through the dark in harsh angles, leaving just as many shadows as they eliminate.
“Cozy,” Elio mutters beside me.
I don’t respond. I’m already watching the men station along the perimeter. They get into the positions I designated them to, spread out and prepared.
We walk forward, about twenty men behind us. At the center of the yard, the Russians have set up something almost theatrical. A desk with a single chair, and behind it sits the Pakhan.
Old, weathered, but there’s a sharpness in his brown eyes. Two men stand at either side of him. His sons. They don’t bother hiding their weapons. The guns strapped to their waists glint at their sides, their expressions menacing.
We stop a few feet away. Close enough to speak. One of the sons looks us over, slow and unimpressed.
“This doesn’t look very friendly, Vitale.”
“That’s because it’s not.”
Elio shifts slightly beside me.
“Well,” the son continues, “I suppose since you were the ones who started our downfall, it would have been na?ve to think you’d end it politely.”
My gaze settles on him coldly.
“The only thing I’m ending today is you,” I say evenly.
A flicker of amusement passes over the Pakhan’s face.
“You’re smart, Vitale. Confident. It’s a shame I need to take you down. You’ve caused my family enough trouble. You killed one of my cousins. And now I’m going to make sure you don’t walk out of here alive.”
I almost smile. “That’s doubtful.”
Every muscle in my body tightens with anticipation. The time for talking has passed. I move first. Gun in one hand. Knife in the other.
The metal is familiar. It both steadies and grounds me.
One quick glance at Elio and my brother nods once, sharply. He pulls out his weapon and my men follow suit.
“I’ll take care of the Pakhan,” I say quietly.
And then all hell breaks loose. Gunfire tears through the air. Loud, immediate. Deafening against metal. Men spill out from between containers, from behind crates. More than I’d expected. But not enough, of course.
My men move fast, taking cover behind containers and returning fire. They’re specially trained and I have no doubt they’ll hold their own.
I step forward instead of moving back, closing the distance between myself and the table that’s currently surrounded. They’re protecting the Pakhan. A bullet ricochets off the metal beside me, sparks flashing. I don’t flinch.
One of the sons reaches for his weapon, stepping forward. I fire a quick clean shot and he hits the ground. The second one is about to lunge, his expression colored with rage. But the Pakhan holds him back.
I take care of the men guarding them. Shooting one by one. When it’s down to three men, I finally see a crack in the old man’s expression. Although it surprises me when I find defeat.
He’s been expecting this. This was simply his last chance to take a stand. He wanted to go down fighting.
His eyes don’t leave mine as I kill his men, shooting and stabbing the ones that get into close range. There’s a precision to the violence I inflict. I don’t find any satisfaction from killing the small fish. They’re irrelevant and they mean nothing to me.
Who I’m really after is the man that gave the orders for Lindsay’s father to get shot.
The same man that’s been plotting on my family.
His incompetence at controlling his men is also the reason she was kidnapped and almost killed.
He’s caused enough damage to my woman and now I’m going to repay him in kind.
I inch closer to the table, noting that the other son has disappeared. Which is unfortunate. I’d been hoping to end the Pakhan’s bloodline. The old man still doesn’t move as I get closer to him. Suddenly, there’s a shout behind me.
Elio.
I turn just enough to catch the movement. A man closing in from my side. I only have time to blink before sharpness sears my skin. A whoosh of air escapes my lungs and I manage to raise my knife and sink it into the bastard’s neck before he pushes his own knife deeper into my flesh.
“Matteo.”