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“You want more?”
“Not really,” I said. “But it’s better to know what I’m getting into.” One thing that my brother were taught as boys was that we never ran away from a problem. The plan needed to change. I just didn’t know how. I couldn’t imagine that the woman I’d strangled would be ready to help me stay out of prison.
“The Bratva also knows all of this,” Dom said, interrupting my thoughts.
“I assumed as much.”
“That means that it’s not just the police after the girl,” he told me. “It’s also the Bratva, and I can assure you that if they get to her first, she’s going to tell them everything, whether she wants to or not.”
I knew that Dom was correct. With or without a Pakhan, the Bratva was just as deadly as we were.
I pressed the glass more firmly to my temple hoping that it might alleviate my throbbing headache. “What do you suggest?” I asked. I nearly bit my tongue as I said the words.
Dom enjoyed them, and he was getting a sick sort of pleasure at the way that all of this blew up in my face. “You aren’t going to like it.”
“Do I ever?”
Dom laughed and he shook his head. “We need a way to keep her from testifying that doesn’t involve murder.”
“What’s that? Because I can assure you that she's talking the first chance she gets.” Dom pulled out a manilla folder and handed it to me. “Marriage. That’s how you keep her from talking.”
For once my brother was right. His plan was shit, and I definitely did not like it.
