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I felt all types of uncomfortable about the transaction, and sweat collected at the small of my back where the sun aimed its ugly rays behind me.
“Where’s it going?” I asked as I walked closer to the crate. I gestured to one of the men in blue, who used a pry bar to break open the lip. My eyebrows cocked at the contents—more rifles than I even anticipated. With another gesture, the man in blue nailed the lid down again. I motioned toward the men to carry the crate to the SUV, and they hurried to lift it. My eyes locked on the man, who hadn’t moved since we’d arrived. “Where is it going?” I asked again, more firmly.
“Did they tell you nothing?” The man chuckled as he lifted an eyebrow.
“No.” I shook my head, maintaining my glare. My heartbeat picked up speed and thumped against my chest.
“The drop off is Malchikov Ilych,” the man said with a humorless laugh as he handed over a piece of paper with an address on it. Malchikov was the boss of the biggest and most influential Russian family.
Fucking Bullseye.There was only one thing I hated dealing with more than firearms, and it was the Russians.
By the time I looked up again, the man was gone.
“Well, fuck,” I said with a heavy exhale.
“What’s wrong?”
“The guns are going to the fucking Russians. The Ilyich family.” I crumpled the paper and stuck it in my pocket.
“We can’t...Enzo, that’s way out of either of our realms. Even your family doesn’t fuck around with their organization.”
“I know that!” I snapped, making her recoil. “What can I do? I got the guns, and now I have to deliver them.”
I grabbed Gia’s arm, and we walked toward the SUV. My thoughts raced. I’d seen the violence tightly interwoven into their business, and they made my family look like saints. They were strong and ruthless, and it made them excellent businessmen. Kindness never got you far in the lifestyle.
We drove toward the address burning a hole in my pocket.
“What are we going to do?” Gia asked, and I couldn’t have given her an answer if I tried. I had no fucking idea.
“Wearen’t doing anything.Youare going to stay in the fucking car.” My voice was firm enough to make her sit back without rebuttal. “This family is as dangerous as they come, and I want you to stay hidden, alright?”
“Fine,” she said with a pout of her lips.
I looked out the windshield, craning my neck at the huge mansion in front of us. The men guarding the property weren’t anything like the guards at Gia’s house. Tattooed hands wrapped around their rifles.
“Get in the backseat, Gia.”
“But—”
“Now, Gia. For once, can you just do what I ask?”
She let out a huff, clambered into the back seat, and flattened herself to the floor.
I pulled up to the gate’s tall black bars and lowered the window as a gruff man peered inside.
“Pochemu ty zdes’?” the man asked.
I didn’t speak Russian, but I could at least tell them I couldn’t. “Ya ne govoryu po-russki.”
The man cocked his head, a smirk creeping across his face. “Why...you...here?” he asked in broken English.
“Guns.” I gestured toward the back of the SUV.
The man had no issue understandingthatword. He returned to the booth, speaking Russian as he radioed us in. The metal gate crept open.
“Prodolzhat’,” he said with a wave of his hand.
I parked the car at the top of the driveway, looking around at the mansion’s old stone structure. “Stay here, Gia.”
