Page 69 of Fallen Rook

Achilles stretched the U.S. map on the table in front of everyone. Two months ago, the Bratva and Camorra had agreed to divvy up the states not yet claimed by organized crime families.

“I’m glad you brought it up,” Alex said coolly. “Since our agreement to territorial concessions at the time was contingent on Jeremie working for you. That is no longer the case. You sacked him.”

“No, it was contingent on Jeremie staying on the East Coast in one fucking piece,” Luca corrected him tonelessly. “That’s still the case, though not for long, if you don’t drag him back to Vegas. Alone.”

Alex and Luca were locked in a stare-down. Thank fuck I’d never had serious aspirations about becoming don. The stress would do terrible things to my glowing skin.

Alex was the first to sit back and smile. “All right, what are your thoughts regarding the current borders?”

“Before we discuss our mutual borders, I’d like to settle another issue. The Outfit are telling me that Bratva pockets have started operating in Chicago.”

“That’s nonsense,” Alex said dryly.

“They’ve provided incontrovertible proof,” Luca said.

“Have they, now?” Alex’s eyes narrowed. “By all means, do share them with the class.”

Luca slid his phone across the table. “That’s the Bratva mark, correct? On this dead man’s chest?”

Alex frowned, sliding the device back to him with a nod.

“The Outfit killed three of your soldiers who were selling drugs in their territory.”

“I see. And you’re doing the Outfit’s bidding now?”

“Bandini is my father-in-law,” Luca said confidently, as though this fact would remain to eternity. “Obviously, when needed, I’m at his disposal.”

“Obviously…” Alex muttered, looking confused for a second. He shook his head. “I need to look into this. Chicago’s not on our radar. Never really has been, but especially not these days.”

“These days?” I frowned.

“Yes. SSA Rothwell is moving to their bureau. Apparently, he’s going to be the head of the task force to bring the Outfit down.”

It felt like he’d lit my whole heart on fucking fire. My stomach bottomed out, and nausea hit the back of my throat.

Tom was moving? When? Why? Was he ever going to tell me?

You mean jack shit to him, Enzo. So probably never.

“You’re looking pale.” Slava’s malicious expression tightened, his tone accusing. “What’s the matter, forgot to hit your tanning bed today, Enzo?”

Was he insinuating I was the Bratva’s mole? I swear I’ve had it with this douche.

“Sei un figlio di puttana.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Slava snarled.

“That you’re the son of a whore.” Achilles’s steely gaze collided with Slava’s. “Now, where were we?”

“You wanna go outside?” Slava jerked his thumb to the door. It was a futile dare. I’d rip him to shreds before he had the chance to lift his ass off the chair.

“Why, do you need someone to walk you to take a shit?” I feigned confusion.

Everyone chuckled, Alex included. I used the moment to school my face and pretend the news about Tom hadn’t gotten to me.

Luckily, this concluded the shit-talking and bickering portion of the meeting. Luca and Alex took over the conversation and discussed things like drug shipments, mild territorial feuds, and weapons. Luca gave Alex several opportunities to fess up to any shipments he might be expecting in New York, even highlighting the Camorra’s willingness to allow the Bratva to accept shipments in our ports under supervision and for a fair cut, but Alex played dumb and confessed to nothing. When they were done, Alex asked if he could have a word alone with me. Everyone left the room.

He remained utterly still, waiting a few moments after the door clicked shut behind us to ensure we weren’t heard.