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“Of course. Frankfort, Hamburg. Zadar, Tirana. Corfu. I haven’t stayed in one place very long as a precaution. Once Alessio and I deal with the Sicilians, though, I will be ready to put down roots. Grow my business.” I spun my sunglasses lazily. “Why not Málaga?”
He leaned back, angling his chair to the side. He stared at the far wall. I let it go, not pushing, knowing he needed to think it through. Killing Golubev was risky. It needed to be handled carefully.
“I will think about it,” Nikolai finally said, coming to his feet. “I will discuss it with my people.” He tipped his chin toward the silent man still blocking the door.
How could he turn this down? I was offering him millions of Euros on a plate.
In the end, I knew he would agree.
Rising, I slipped my sunglasses on my head. “You do that and let us know. Now, I believe Alessio asked about a laptop to do some digging?”
Nikolai came around the desk. “Follow me. I’ll take you to the security room.”
As he walked by me, I grabbed his arm. The entire room froze, like we were all standing at the edge of a cliff. But I had something else to say, something very important.
“If I think he is in danger,” I said quietly. “If I think he should be told, I will do it. He deserves to know the sort of man he is in bed with.”
We both knew I was talking about Theo.
“He is in no danger, Ravazzani. Not from me.”
“Good. See that it stays that way.”
Nikolai shook off my hand. “I am not a fool, nor am I a child. I know the risks and am doing everything to shield him from my life. He will return to Paris next week, none the wiser.”
“But perhaps heartbroken.”
A hint of guilt—regret?—flashed over Nikolai’s face before his usual mask returned. “But he will be alive.”
* * *
Alessio
If there had ever been any doubt of Giulio’s lineage or his relationship to Fausto Ravazzani, that meeting completely eradicated it.
Giulio had been fucking brilliant. A master. Cool and calm. Confident but not boastful. He dangled the one thing in front of Nic that no one in this world could resist: money.
But partnering with Nikolai Kuznetsov and the Bratva? This was a risky move. I hadn’t realized Giulio wanted to return to Málaga and to begin trafficking cocaine again. Shouldn’t he and I have decided this together?
I frowned as we followed Nikolai from his office. While I was relieved to no longer owe Nikolai a favor, I wasn’t sure Giulio’s plan was any better. It was probably worse. Now we would deal with him for years, instead of for just one short job.
“Stop worrying,” Giulio whispered for my ears alone when we were in the corridor.
I kept quiet. We needed to be alone for our conversation.
We passed the bridge. The captain and a crew member were inside at the controls, and they nodded in deference to Nikolai as he passed. Nikolai opened a narrow door and gestured for us to go in. One of his men sat at a desk, typing on a keyboard. Three big monitors faced him, but I couldn’t see what he was working on.
He straightened at the appearance of the big boss. Nikolai spoke in Russian, telling the man we were looking for some information and directing him to help us. Then he turned and left.
The silence stretched as the door snicked shut. “Do you speak English?” I asked the man in Russian.
He shook his head. “Nyet.”
I walked over. “Do you mind if we sit?”
He gestured to the one empty seat beside him. Giulio and I exchanged a look. “Sit, assassino,” Giulio said quietly in Italian. “You speak his language. You can tell him what to do.”
I took the only chair and checked the three screens. Two of them had security cameras up. I noticed there was one in every guest stateroom, save ours. That was only because I’d found their camera and destroyed it. The other monitor had computer code on it.
