Page 84 of Lethal King

“Just got a name,” Maksim’s voice becomes clearer as I approach his position at the head of our dockside convoy.

“Read it to me,” I demand.

Rolling down the tinted window on his black escalade, my uncle leans out so he can be heard over the growing sound of squawking seagulls.

I rip my earpiece out and listen carefully.

“Leander Onasis. That’s who Rozalia and Tytus met at the restaurant.”

“Who the fuck is Leander Onasis?”

“Greek Billionaire. Trust fund extraordinaire. Investor. Tycoon. All of that bullshit. To be honest, the name is oddly familiar…”

“Doesn’t sound like someone Rozalia and Tytus would be meeting.”

Maksim just shrugs. “We put our best men on the job. They seem pretty confident that this Leander Onasis is our guy.”

“Well, then let’s confirm it. You drive.”

Stepping into the backseat of Maksim’s escalade, I pull open a cover on the backseat headrest, revealing a built-in desktop. The Bluetooth connects to my phone’s keyboard, and by the time Maksim has pulled off the docks and onto the highway, I’ve compiled a massive file on this Leander fucker.

A quick keyword search finds something that I already suspected.

“He’s former mafia,” I grumble.

Ahead, in the driver’s seat, Maksim perks up. “I knew that name sounded strangely familiar.”

“You’d heard of Leander before?”

“Not Leander. No,” Maksim shakes his head. “But his father… Stravos, I believe—yeah, Stravos Onasis, he used to run a small family of his own. An offshoot of the Greek mafia. If I remember correctly, the Greeks call those factions ‘Oikos’, and they’re kind of like what the Italians are to you. Ask your cousins. Stravos was semi-famous in the underworld for being one of the first crooks to go fully legitimate.”

While Maksim talks, I furiously type away, double-checking every word.

“You’re right,” I tell him, confirming the story through pieced-together articles, police reports, and business documents. “Why the hell did he go straight?”

“For the same reason your father did,” Maksim explains. “Because rich businessmen don’t have to worry about jail time—but even the wealthiest crooks always have a target on their backs.”

“My father isn’t afraid of jail,” I snap, suddenly remembering all the shit Dad is going through.

I’ve been trying to keep it in the back of my mind because there’s nothing I can do for him right now. Not on that front. But it’s hard to forget. And it’s even harder to keep myself from jumping to his defense.

“No. He isn’t afraid of jail,” Maksim agrees. “But believe me when I tell you there’s nothing your father fears more than the thought of his children being locked up in some cage. He would do anything to prevent that from happening. Anything.”

“And look where that got us,” I murmur.

Maksim sighs.

“It could still all work out. Your father’s a smart man. And obviously, there’s a template he can follow. Look at Leander. A billionaire. I imagine it’s all clean money too. If he and his father can do it, then why can’t you and yours?”

“I can’t imagine Stravos was trying to go clean while under federal investigation,” I remind Maksim. “Plus, going legitimate is the last thing I want to do. The mafia is my life. And I wouldn’t give it up for all the clean money in the world.”

“I know,” Maksim nods. “It’s where we both belong. Your father too. He was never set on destroying this part of his legacy, only masking it. You understand that, right?”

“Of course I do,” I sneer, hating that my almighty father is in such a vulnerable position. “But there’s nothing we can do about that now. Our job is to maintain control of our dirty dealings. And there’s nothing dirtier than whatever Rozalia and Tytus are up to.”

“And what do you think they’re up to?”

“I don’t know,” I confess.