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35
MALICE
Even with all theshit going on with whoever is poking into Nikolai’s death, we still have business to do. Since the deal with the Donovan gang fell through, we’ve had to work double-time to make sure we don’t lose the footing we’ve managed to claw out for ourselves in our particular niche of the criminal underworld of Detroit.
I left Ransom hanging with Willow in the garage when I headed out a while ago to take some parts from the last car we chopped to a buyer we work with sometimes.
Thankfully, he doesn’t have a stick up his ass about the lies Ethan is spreading, so he’s still happy to do business with us. I sell the parts and take the cash, stuffing it into my back pocket. But as I start to walk back toward my car, I half bump into someone hanging around outside.
“Hey, watch where you’re—” The guy’s voice breaks off as he turns to look at me, and I realize I know him.
“Darius.” I frown.
“Ho-ly shit.” The broad-shouldered man chuckles. “You’re Alexander Voronin’s boy, aren’t you? Malice, right? It’s been a while.”
Just hearing our dad’s name is enough to make me bristle, but I bite back the urge to tell him to go fuck himself. Darius Ledger was a friend of our dad’s—as much as that assholehadfriends, I guess. They ran together when our father was trying to build up his criminal empire, and I’ve met the guy a couple of times because of that.
Darius narrows his eyes, gazing down the street as if he’s recalling a memory.
“Goddamn. I remember the way your dad used to talk about you boys. How he was gonna raise you up to help him run his empire. You were gonna be the best of the best, all deadly and skilled.” He lets out a low whistle, shifting his focus back to me. “Too bad you three used those skills to take him out instead.”
My hands curl into fists at my side.
It’s not like it’s some big secret that I was convicted for the murder of our father, but the way Darius is looking at me so smugly sends my hackles up. I don’t like being taunted, especially not by some smug-ass fucker who used to run in the same circles as our piece of shit dad.
“As I recall, you snatched up some of his old business contacts as soon as he was dead, so I guess you should be thanking me for opening up that opportunity,” I say coolly.
Darius ducks his head in acknowledgement of my words, chuckling as he runs a hand over his ash brown hair. “I guess I should.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re back on the outside now. Maybe we’ll get a chance to do business one day.”
There’s no way in hell my brothers and I will ever do business with this fucker. We work with a lot of lowlifes and criminals, but we draw the line at trash like Darius.
“Yeah, maybe,” I grunt, sidestepping him to continue down the street. He seems like he’d be happy to reminisce about the past all motherfucking day, but I don’t have the time or patience for that shit.
He doesn’t stop me, giving me a nod as he watches me go. I’m about halfway back to my car when my phone rings, so I slide it out of my pocket, check the screen, and answer it.
“Vic. What’s up?”
“Get home. Now,” my twin says, sounding tense as hell. “We need to talk.”
I can tell immediately that something’s up. Darius and his bullshit are forgotten, and I turn away, heading back to my car, forgetting how pissed off I was just a second ago as I focus on the call.
“What’s going on?” I demand.
“We’ll talk about it when you get here.”
“That’s not a lot to fucking go on, Vic.”
My twin’s voice is hard when he answers. “We got a new job from X.”
I frown at the mention of our mysterious benefactor. I fucking hate this arrangement we’ve gotten locked into, and I hate the way X basically owns us now. He treats us like fucking errand boys, sending us to do whatever dirty work he wants, knowing we can’t say no.
And whatever he wants now? It clearly has Vic’s hackles up.
“I’m on my way,” I say shortly and then end the call, sliding into my car and peeling out.
As much as I hate X and the bullshit he puts us through, I know working for him is probably better than the alternative. Prison was a fucking nightmare.
I grip the wheel so tightly the leather underneath my fingers creaks in protest. None of it was pretty. None of it was anything I ever want to go through again.
