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The Russians were cunts. Dirty fuckers with no honor. No code. And, without a code of conduct, there might as well have been rabid jackals roaming the streets.
But as allies? I was honor bound to take action.
Honor bound to do as Mariska had made me promise—take care of her girls.
Speaking of ‘no code,’ my phone beeped with an incoming message, one I read when there was a lull in the traffic.
Lyanov:Svetlana Vasov’s pregnant. Antoni’s crowing about it. Says it’s a boy.
Shit.
That was going to fuck with my timeline.
Me:Appreciate the intel. Keep me in the loop.
I’d been sowing seeds for a long while in the Russian camp, and with this one revelation, the fortune I’d spent might have just paid for itself.
Arriving back in the city faster than anticipated, I was glad to have shaved off some minutes—time was precious at the moment. As was the element of surprise—and Lyanov’s news had put the wind up my ass and my foot firmly on the accelerator pedal.
As I pulled up alongside Elemental, a valet appeared, hovering in place as I opened the door when the coast was clear, and dangled the keys for him to snatch. Using a valet meant I’d have to sweep my car for bugs later, but it was better than having to park in the sardine cans they called parking lots in this space-poor neighborhood.
I didn’t need to warn the kid that I’d have his head if he scratched the paint job. The second his eyes collided with mine, his gulp told me he knew who I was.
Most people in the city were aware of the O’Donnellys. Especially this close to our home turf—Hell’s Kitchen.
The kid swallowed once more as he reached for the keys, and I let them drop into his palm before I rounded the fender and stared up at the club.
It was on the border between our territory and theFamiglia’s, but ever since the Satan’s Sinners’ MC had joined our side in the war against the Italians, their hacker had joined forces with my brother, Conor, and had started stirring shit with their gambling businesses. Shutting down casinos, draining the bank accounts of their illegal gambling dens, sending cops to their whale poker games on massive busts...
Their losses were approaching the eight figures—that was how much damage this Lodestar bitch and my younger bro had done. As a result, the Italians had started shedding real estate, and we were snapping it up.
Their financial losses were our gain.
Still, that the club had changed hands hadn’t hit the news. Our legit front, Acuig, hadn’t been buying up these pieces of property, shell corporations had. That was down to Conor and Finn strategizing long term.
I had no idea as to their end game, but I didn’t need to. Just like they didn’t need to know why I was here today.
It sure as fuck wasn’t a spot check by the new management...
Elementalwas lit up in light bulbs, raw, old-world glamor that fit the esthetics of the place. The doors were swathed in red velvet curtains, and as I walked in, the heady scent of incense overwhelmed my senses—musk and sandalwood. Overpowering smells. Smells that made me want to sneeze.
I fucking hated perfume.
A glance about the front hall revealed a porter’s chair by the door which was manned by a bouncer who barely fit on it. He kept his gaze trained on the door, which told me he wasn’t interested in registering my identity—smart man.
Any trouble that went down today would bypass everyone’s attention.
Even if a server witnessed it, they’d never go to the cops.
Not unless they had a death wish.
As I headed down the corridor, the coat check attendant kept her face turned away too as I strolled down the rich burgundy carpet and toward the inner sanctum ofElemental.
A quick check of my phone had me seeing Forrest had sent another message.
Forrest:He brought Frederica. They're in the back.
Me:Perfect. Just in the lobby. On my way.
