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“Meaning?”
“Meaning the man who recommended I hire Mikhail. He was the same man who knew about the mission you were on when your men were killed before being able to eradicate the snitches. The fucking bastard sold us out to the Irishmen.”
The Irish mob had been behind the attack on my men, not the Walsh family and his followers. The perfect setup indeed. I curtailed my rage. Now was the time to think clearly. “Mikhail was relaying information about when to attack the construction site.”
“Goddamn it. That’s the reason for the recent incident.”
“Another incident?”
“A fire earlier this evening. What a fucking fool I’ve been.” Alexei cursed in Russian.
I wasn’t going to tell him I agreed with him.
“Let me get dressed. We have business to attend to.” He walked closer, holding out his hand. “We might not be friends, Kirill, but we are brothers. We need to work together. I know why your men were attacked and how. Now, I need your to help us fix this problem.”
I stared him in the eyes, finally accepting his gesture. Brothers. I’d accept that, especially coming from Alexei. “Who is this traitor?”
“The only man other than family I ever trusted. I won’t make that mistake again.” He gave me an entirely different look, as if he’d just realized that I belonged in the family. He started to walk out of the room then stopped. “Not trying to give you advice, Kirill.”
“Good, because I’m not in the mood.”
“If you like this girl, really like her, be prepared to let her go. If there’s any chance you could fall in love with her, do it sooner versus later. If you don’t, you’ll ruin her life. You should know that being in a Bratva family doesn’t allow for love. Find a woman, marry her, but never, ever fall in love. It’ll ease the heartache.”
As he walked away, I realized two important things. One was that I didn’t know Alexei at all and two…
It was already too late.
Maybe we’d ruined each other.
* * *
While it was still early morning, there was already some activity on the casino construction site, several men still handling the cleanup from the earlier fire. The Irishmen were certainly enjoying their attempt at keeping us on our toes. I continued to seethe, my desire to shed blood and break bones fueling the rage churning inside. He’d told me about his soldier, Yuri Romanoff, involved in the Bratva for over a decade.
Alexei had dug deeper into the man’s accounts, finding several direct payments from one of Shane’s shell companies that very few people knew he owned. It was enough to confirm what we already knew.
As I got out of my car, I stared at the massive buildings beginning to take shape. The design was utter perfection, the accomplishment one that would be the crowning glory of the Kozlov family’s empire. I thought about Alexei’s words, his indication he’d accepted me as his brother and smirked. Time would tell if that came to pass.
We didn’t bother talking. There was no reason to go over our intentions or the outcome. This was simply a matter of business, getting rid of unwanted baggage.
We found Mikhail on one of the floors under construction, the light breeze blowing through the completely open fifteenth floor facility. We moved in silence, our approach stealthy. The fool was on his phone, his back turned to us. He was the only man on the floor and gauging by his hurried tone, he was finishing with a conversation he wanted no one else to hear.
But we did.
“Everything is set. There’s a party tonight so neither Alexei nor anyone else in the core group will be anywhere close to the facility.” He hesitated, nodding to no one. “I know what to do. Yes, I’m ready. The money better be in my bank account tomorrow. Yeah, well, I did my part. Now, do yours.” He ended the call, cursing in Russian. He and his buddies had been responsible for breaking into my fake apartment as well as tossing Candy’s. Another attempt at leading us astray.
Alexei darted a glance in my direction, his need for blood just as strong as mine.
“Mikhail.” My booming voice carried across the space, the wind unable to push it away.
He turned with a start, immediately shoving his phone into his pocket. “I wanted to get here early,” he bothered to say, although even in the early morning light, it was easy to gather a sense he was terrified.
As he should be.
“You betrayed us,” Alexei said almost casually as we both closed the distance.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted. He was standing behind a pallet of steel girders, the last ones located on the property given the holdup caused by the trade council. As I approached, I noticed two cement trucks actively pouring a concrete floor below.
“You’re working for the Irishmen. There is no sense in denying it.” I itched to drag out my knife, taking my time inflicting pain, but we still had other business to contend with. I moved around the girders, blocking him in on one side.
