Page 70 of Lord of Passion

This morning, the shit storm that is the Novikov menace turns into a full category-five hurricane.

Juan Castillo, our source for jewels and counterfeit cash, is dead, and the expected shipment has disappeared. Dmitri flies down to Florida and calls me from the wreckage of the plant out near the Everglades.

"The report is correct," he says grimly, flipping the camera so I can see what's left of the plant. Chunks of the wall have been blown through, and the inside is scorched to ash and concrete rubble. Every bit of stock is gone from the shelves.

I count at least fifteen bodies before I groan. "Pakhan, I would suggest you get out of there immediately. This can't be kept a secret from the police for much longer. It seems an inadvisable place for you to be."

"Agreed," he says. He puts his hand on his hip, looking at the wreckage again. "A strike of this lethality only comes from extremely accurate intel and a very well-trained strike force. An army couldn't storm this place to take the cash and jewels. For that, Juan would've been prepared, it had to be a small unit."

"He is the last one I would expect to be caught by surprise," I agree. I wearily rub the back of my neck. "I'm going to contact Balabanov immediately to let him know his upcoming shipment will be delayed."

Dmitri frowns, walking back to his car as his guard holds the door. "Didn't you say they were one of the families Agapov was concerned about falling first?"

"Precisely," I say. "Which is why this hit is especially concerning. This Novikov fuck knows what we're supplying and who we're supplying to. He's got our schedules; someone's feeding him information in the same way he was able to tip off the ATF about the warehouses."

"Put Roman in charge of searching for the source of the leaks," Dmitri says. "The advantage we have now is that two separate branches have been compromised. That makes the pool of people who would know about both much smaller."

"Let's speak when you get back,Pakhan."

As I hang up with Dmitri, comes a call from Melor Balabanov."Sovietnik,how are you?" he says in a jolly tone, which is my first warning because Melor is by no means cheerful at any time.

"Melor Balabanov, this is a pleasure," I lie. "I fear that I have bad news. Your shipment of Russian counterfeit currency and jewels will be delayed."

The smile never leaves his face. "So I hear."

My brow rises. "And how would you know that?"

"I'm not without my resources," he says. "I fear that this is the last mishap my Bratva is willing to entertain from a formerly trusted supplier. I have accepted a new contract," he not-quite gloats. "They are quite mysterious, but I already haveverification that they have my currency and diamond shipment ready."

"Melor Balabonov," I’m trying to sound unruffled. "You surely know that he cannot keep his promises as a supplier. His offer is impossible to fulfill."

He shrugs, "The Balabanov and Morozov Bratvas have worked together through two generations. But if you can no longer supply us on time, I have no choice."

I tap my fingers on my desktop, studying his expression. "I'm flying into Moscow tomorrow," I say casually. "Why don't we meet?"

He shrugs, the arrogant fuck. "I fear I will not change my mind," he says, "but of course, I'm always pleased to meet with you, Nikandr Morozov."

Cursing, I hang up. Less than an hour later, the next call comes in. "Sovietnik!" Ivan Kuznetsov says, "We need to speak."

***

"We need to find this motherfucker and cut him into pieces and send a box to each one of the Moscow Six for daring to fuck with us," Roman snarls. "Two families dropping out on the same day, and having already heard about shipment and inventory that's missing? Assholes! After all these years we've worked together."

"They're businessmen," Dmitri says his face is like stone, which means that he's enraged. "But this kind of disloyalty is a serious thing." The sun has long set and we're sitting in Dmitri's office, recapping this shit show of a day.

"I'm flying out tonight so I can meet with Balabanov tomorrow," I say. "It's time to lean in hard and see if we can reverse their decision. Roman, can you and Alexsey run through whatinventory we do have and see what we can add to a shipment in order to hold them off from switching?"

He nods, his expression is still furious. "We'll have a report for you by the time you arrive in Moscow tomorrow morning, so you have something to present."

"Excellent," I say, loosening my tie. "I'm going home to pack."

Dmitri nods wearily. "Thank you. I'll have our fastest jet fueled and ready to go."

While I could have an assistant go home and pack for me, I want to see my wife before we fly out. I didn't get much time with her at all last night before I had to leave and put out yet another fire. She was already off to work when I came home this morning to change clothes.

When I take my exhausted ass to the penthouse, she's already home, humming over by the stove, stirring something that smells of garlic and rosemary. Her hair is piled up in a messy bun on top of her head and she's wearing leggings and a little tank top that's doing nothing to hide her nipples.

"You're early," she says, looking up with a smile. "How was work?" Her smile fades as she sees my expression. "So, shitty, then." She taps the spoon on the side of the pot and sets it aside. "Anything you can talk about?"