“Huh. Yesterday, you thought I should payyoua very high price for the privilege of divulging that information to your boss, but now you’re saying you’ll rewardme?”
Maksim raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Do you want me to admit it? You called my bluff. It happens in poker, and it happens in life as well.”
I can tell it physically hurts him to have to prostrate himself before me.
I’m enjoying every fucking second of it.
“What makes you think that I’d betray my side?”
Maksim leans back in his chair, a calculating look in his eyes. “You’ve been stripped of your title and given to a boss who hates your guts. You’re putting on a brave face—I’ll give you that—but this can’t be the life you want for yourself. The way I see it, you can either do what’s right for you and Blake, or you can do what’s right for them, the men who turned their backs on you. Seems like a no-brainer to me.”
Maksim's words hang in the air, mingling with the faint scent of expensive cologne and the distant clinking of glasses from the bar.
I let the silence stretch, making it seem as if I’m taking my time to think it over. “And what exactly will your pakhan do for me if I help him win this war?”
“If you tell me where Messero and Ferraro store their weapons, I will bring that information to the pakhan and credit you as the source. After he kills them, he’ll give you a place in the Bratva. A place worthy of a guy like you.”
“I don’t need him to kill Rafaele and Gino for me. One day, I’ll do it myself.”
Maksim clicks his tongue. “Don’t be foolish. You know going after them solo means certain death. You seem to like your wife quite a bit. You really want to throw away your chance at spending a few more decades with her by your side? The pakhan has the manpower to destroy them for good. New York will never be the same.”
I throw my arm over the back of the chair and give him an assessing look. “Your side has been slow to make any serious progress. The way I see it, the Bratva is flailing.”
“We’ve got the manpower. The pakhan just needs something to help turn the tide in his favor. Your information could be it.”
“Last night, you said you’d win with or without my help.”
Maksim's facade cracks for a moment, a flicker of frustration crossing his features before he schools his expression into neutrality once more. “We will. But the pakhan’s getting impatient. He’s eager for this to be over. If we can take control of forty or fifty percent of their arms, they won’t have enough to fight us back. Not to mention the psychological hit a move like that would make. They’d start looking for rats in their ranks. That’s bad for morale.”
It's true. The Bratva getting their hands on those weapons would be a big hit to the Italian side, and it might be the only thing thatcould help the pakhan at this point. They’re losing, whether or not Maksim wants to admit that to me.
That means I’ve got all the leverage I could possibly want.
“Why should I trust you? How do I know you won’t use the information I give you and take all the credit?”
Maksim sips his wine, his gaze not quite meeting mine. “I understand your concern, Nero. But you have my word. I’ll make sure the pakhan knows exactly where the intel came from. You’ll be rewarded handsomely, I promise.”
I laugh. It’s just too funny. Who the fuck does he take me for?
“No.”
Desperation bleeds into Maksim’s eyes. “No?”
“I’m not tellingyoushit. I don’t trust you, and after last night, I don’t think you can fucking blame me for that. The only person I’ll divulge the locations of the warehouses to is the pakhan himself. Face-to-face.”
“Impossible. The pakhan doesn’t entertain visitors.”
I stand up, glaring down at the damned vermin. “That’s not my fucking problem. If he wants the information, he’ll roll out the red carpet and invite me over. And if he doesn’t, then I guess he doesn’t want to win this war badly enough.”
I take one last sip of my scotch, letting it burn a hole in my throat before dropping the glass onto the table with a satisfying clang. Maksim glares back at me, the gears turning in his head.
“You’ve got my number.” I throw a few bills on the table. “Call me if you change your mind.”
As I walk out of the dimly lit bar, the cold winter air hits my face, and I take a deep breath.
Maksim’s going to have to put in some work to convince the pakhan to let me speak to him directly, but that’s his business.
Now that I’ve made my move, I’ve got a far more important thing on my mind, namely my wife.
