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I tense, remembering Sergei’s appearance at the party last night. His hand on Lily.
His warning.
“What have they done?” I demand, moving back behind my desk. All business again. The Kovaks are one of our main rival organizations, out of Serbia with Russian ties. They’re a nasty piece of work, alright. Made their money trafficking girls over to work the sex clubs, now they’re eying expansion into drugs and guns.
And our turf.
“The usual bullshit,” Chase replies, darkening. “Picking fights with our guys, moving product on streets they shouldn’t. We can’t stand for it; we need to do something. Show them who the fuck they’re dealing with.”
Typical Chase: Shoot first, ask questions later. He’s so focused on the old rules, he can’t see the bigger picture.
But I do.
“You need to chill,” I instruct him. “I mean it. No moves, no retaliation. The last thing we need is violent gang war fucking up this real estate development. We just broke ground.”
Chase slams a fist on the desk. “Fuck the development! Christ, Nero, what the fuck is wrong with you? I’m telling you we’ve got a serious threat brewing, and all you think about is that damn land. You know what’s more important than that? The Barretti name. Our people. We need to make a statement, show those Serbian bastards they can’t pull this shit.”
I glare.
“You’re forgetting who the fuck’s in charge here.” I say, my voice harsh. Chase has been pushing against me more lately, and I’m losing patience. I know he doesn’t approve of the direction I’m taking this empire, but I’m damn sure he’ll fall in line.
They all will.
“Look, I’m just saying—”
“I’m the one with Barretti on my fucking birth certificate, so I make the decisions around here,” I cut him off, staring him down. Chase exhales, then nods.
“Fine.”
“And tell the guys to dial things back at the docks,” I add. “We need to keep our hands clean for the time being.”
“But what about the Kovaks?”
“They’re trying to stir shit. Provoke us into lashing out. I’m not falling for that game.”
Chase scowls. But he doesn’t argue any more.
“Interesting choice,” a voice says from the doorway. I look past Chase to see a tank of a man standing there. He has a shaved head, and full sleeves of tattoos on each arm, and there’s something familiar about his weathered face. “What are you planning to do,” he continues, “sit back on your ass and let the Kovaks take our territory, one block at a time?”
I frown, trying to place him.
“You better have a fucking good reason to be standing there, talking like that,” Chase says, backing me up like a pro.
“Name’s Vance.” The man drawls, ignoring him. “Roman sent me to help you out.”
That’s how I know him. I recognize him back from when I was a kid. One of my father’s most loyal lieutenants, he got busted with a boat full of product arriving straight from Colombia. They leaned on him hard, but he took a twenty-year sentence and never said a word. He’s a legend around these parts.
And now he’s a free man, and my problem.
“Thanks for the offer, but I have all the help I need,” I say, nodding in Chase’s direction. He might be pissing me off lately, but at least I have no doubt that his loyalty lies with me.
“Your father thinks otherwise.” Vance’s gaze is cold. “Says you could use some… trusted advice, these days.”
I bristle. Fuck if I’m going to have someone keeping tabs on me, after everything. But still, I keep it cool. If he’s my father’s man, there’s no use reasoning with him.
Only one man can do that.
“Hey, you know old warriors are always welcome around here,” I say, spreading my arms. “Why don’t you have a drink at the bar? We’ve got a twenty-year scotch you won’t have tasted in a while. When did you get out, anyway?”
