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“Not bad. I’m working on the holdouts,” Lyon said. “Borya, Michael, Nikolai, Luka, a few others.”
“And Musa?” Alek asked.
“Working on that too.” Lyon looked at the short list next to Musa’s name. It was part of the problem. Musa had no family, no real friends, no wife or children, no motivations besides his own success.
The only things he cared about were his business holdings, and Lyon didn’t have the power to take those until he became boss, but he couldn’t become boss without Musa’s buy-in.
Or his death.
He forced himself to banish the thought. If striking another brigadier was bad business, killing him without permission of the pakhan — or the Spies, now that Viktor was a lame duck — would be suicide.
“What does he want?” Alek asked.
“He wants to be king,” Lyon said. “Like me.”
His phone rang in his pocket. He reached for it, scowling when he saw Stefan Hale’s name on the display.
He answered. “Yes?”
“Sorry to call you, boss.” The younger man was breathless and tinged with panic. “I… I didn’t…”
“What’s up, Stefan?”
“It’s the restaurant,” Stefan said.
In the background, Lyon heard sirens and shouting. “Samara?”
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Stefan said. “It’s on fire.”
