“Volkov. The one led by Alexei’s nephew. Kirill.”
Alexei fucking Volkov. He’s like me, a “businessman” in the city with several commercial interests. What’s his angle now? Why would he send his nephew out to make a move against me?
I shake my head to clear out those asinine questions. I already have my answer. He’s a Russian fucking bastard.
My father had been forced to deal with them, and now it appears they’re trying to muscle into our territory again.
And while the Morozov brothers owe me, I know there’s nopoint in asking them to go against one of their own. That means I’ll have to handle the Volkov problem myself.
I turn my attention back to Pellegrini. “The Chinese haven’t tried to expand out of their little corner of the city in over a decade. How could you be so stupid to fall for such an obvious lie?”
“I’m old enough to remember when the Chinese gangs were a real threat,” he responds after spitting a line of blood onto the floor. “Your father would have understood. You’re just too young and wet-behind-the-ears to see…”
I cut him off by smashing my fist into his jaw hard enough to topple over his chair. “My father would have recognized the same thing I do, you fucking moron, that you’re being played by the goddamn Russians! That shipment that they intercepted? It was for Don Melloni. You let them steal forty kilos, and then they burned down Monroe’s and killed a friend of the family that was under my protection. If you had been able to see past the money they flashed in front of you, you would have known that was their whole fucking plan!”
I step away and turn to Enzo as I shake out my stinging hand. “Get me everything on Kirill Volkov. I want his recent activity, contacts, and last known location. If he so much as breathes in this city without my permission, I want to know about it.”
Enzo nods and leaves the room.
I turn back to Pellegrini.
“You sold out a good man for fifty thousand dollars. Even worse, you betrayed me.”
“Maximo, I didn’t know! I’m sorry. You’re right, I was an idiot. Please, I have a family?—”
“So did Robert Monroe.”
“Maximo, I know I fucked up, but they told me you were in the know…”
My men pick up the chair and right Pellegrini, whose head lolls almost comically as he tries to fix his swollen eyes on me. I hit him again, this time with another closed fist to the bridge of his nose. “And you didn’t think to ask, to verify that information with me?”
“Where else would the money come from? I had no reason to bother you…”
I smash my fist into his face again, this time splitting his lip. “You didn’t ask, you greedy fuck, because you wanted the money more than the truth.”
I look him over. The blood. The fear. The sweat on his skin.
He’s barely worth my bullet, much less Constance’s first one. He certainly isn’t worth anymore of my time or attention.
“Keep him alive for now,” I tell my men. “Make sure he has nothing left to hide. Then deliver him to Don Melloni with my apologies. Maybe reminding him what loyalty costs will buy me time while I deal with the Russians.”
By the time I get back to the estate, it’s past midnight, and the adrenaline is wearing off. The rush fades fast.
My hands ache. My knuckles are split so badly that there’s more of my blood on the back of my hand than Pellegrini’s.
And I’m bone fucking tired. But not just from the violence of the evening.
From the weight of everything I haven’t been able to say to the woman who’s waiting up for me.
Constance is in my office, scrambling up from the chair behind my desk when I walk in. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes glazed as if I caught her sleeping.
I don’t say a word at first. Just close the door and lean againstit.
She stares down at my hands but doesn’t comment on them.
“You didn’t stay in the library,” I finally remark.
“I thought you meant to stay in the house. Besides, you’ve been gone for hours.”
