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Lyon picked a nonexistent piece of lint from his suit and affected an air of casual boredom. “My power has been stolen from me. Yours is on the wane.”
“You tread on dangerous territory.” Viktor’s words might have been menacing if they had been delivered as a threat. Instead they held the air of quiet admiration.
Lyon leveled his gaze at Viktor. “We’re both in dangerous territory, Viktor. This you know, even if you haven’t spoken it to a single soul.”
Viktor leaned back in his chair, his gaze appraising. “Suppose I agree to your conclusion,” Viktor said. “I assume you come armed with a solution?”
“Of course,” Lyon said. “First and foremost, Yakov must be eliminated. His reckless behavior is a threat to the bratva, and he certainly can’t be allowed to go to trial, to say nothing of his distasteful threats to the prosecutor.” Yakov had tried to intimidate Gabriella Perez, the lawyer prosecuting his case for the State of Illinois, even going so far as to kidnap her son after being told — by Viktor himself — to leave her and the child alone. “I believe I can negotiate an agreement with the woman to give us some breathing room if we eliminate Yakov. Say, a year?”
Lyon had already negotiated the agreement with the prosecutor, but Viktor didn’t need to know that.
“A year?” Viktor repeated.
“A year without threat from the FBI, from the DA’s office,” Lyon clarified. “A year to shore up our organization from within. A year to install new leadership at the head of it.”
Viktor smirked. “Why would I want to do such a thing when I am already its leader?”
“Because you know your time is coming to an end. Because you have no male heir. Because you need an exit strategy, one that keeps the Baranov name on everyone’s tongue.”
… instead of lying in a pool of your own blood.
Lyon left the last part unsaid. He wasn’t a threat to Viktor — he was a savior.
Viktor simply didn’t know it yet.
“And if I agree with you? What form of strategy removes me from leadership while keeping the Baranov name alive?” Viktor asked.
Lyon held Viktor’s gaze. “One that involves Kira.”
Viktor blanched at the mention of his daughter, the first time he’d shown a shred of emotion. It was to be expected. Viktor doted on his only child. He always had.
She’d been by his side almost constantly since her mother’s death when she was twelve. Instead of sending her away to boarding school, the way many high-ranking bratva leaders did, Viktor enrolled Kira at a local prep school so she could remain at home. It wasn’t uncommon to see her silhouette through the tinted windows of the bulletproof car Viktor’s driver used to drive him around town, nor was it unusual for Kira to remain in the room with Viktor during business meetings.
Lyon had been a bystander in those meetings, relegated to the role of bodyguard to Yakov, the undisciplined cocaine and alcohol addled brigadierwho’d gotten them into the mess with the D.A.’s office.
But Lyon had noticed Kira’s presence, as he noticed all things, had noted it as something of import.
Viktor tucked his surprise behind his impenetrable gaze. “Please explain how my daughter can help keep the Baranov name alive in the bratva.”
Lyon understood Viktor’s confusion. As a woman Kira Baranov would never command the Chicago bratva. It was true that certain cells around the world were commanded by women, but they were few and far between, their soldiers amenable to such command.
That wouldn’t be the case in Chicago. The organization was rife with men calculating a way to overthrow Viktor, from lowly shestyorka, the soldiers on the ground, to brigadiers like Yakov, to the powerful men that were members of the Two Spies, the organization that ruled just below Viktor and stepped in whenever there was a power vacuum.
They wouldn’t take a backseat to Kira Baranov, not now, when power was close enough to taste.
Lyon steadied his voice. “The Baranov name will remain relevant in partnership with another name. Mine.”
This was the most dangerous part of Lyon’s plan. If his calculations were faulty, he might not leave the property alive. If he was right in his assessment, Viktor would listen.
If he was right, Viktor would agree.
The moment stretched taut between them, the antique grandfather clock ticking in the corner of the room.
“Explain,” Viktor finally said.
“We eliminate Yakov and agree to safe passage for the prosecutor and her son. In return, they give us a year to regroup. During that year, you put your support behind me to take over as leader — with Kira as my wife.”
“How does the Baranov name remain relevant with Kira in your bed?” Viktor asked.
