AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It won’t save him in the end.
Armond is still blathering on. “He runs some fenced electronics. Sells ‘em cheap. I got a grade-A stereo system at home for a fraction of the price ‘cause of him.”
“So you know that Bruno Domi is a Bellasio man?” I say. The shift in my tone is subtle, but it’s enough for Armond to finally notice the noose tightening around his throat.
His eyes widen when he realizes where I’m going with this. “I… Listen, boss, Bruno and I talk cheap electronics. Nothin’ else. He’s selling and I’m buying. That’s as far as our relationship extends. And as far as I know, he’s not high in the ranks.”
“So the answer is yes. You do know what he is.”
He gulps, but he stands his ground and looks me in the eye. “I got nothin’ to hide, boss. I’m loyal to you. Bruno may be a Bellasio, but I’m Zakharov through and through.”
He’s convincing. But then again, so was the other bastard who swore his loyalty to me and then stabbed the Bratva in the back. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…well, that’s not an option. For anyone.
“It’s funny,” I muse. “Someone else said the same thing to me not too long ago.”
Slava and Armond exchange a glance. “We heard about that, boss,” Armond stammers. “Through the grapevine. Are…are you sure?”
“No, I just blindly rampage into things without making sure.” The back of my teeth clench as I take a deep breath. It sounds more like a growl than a sigh. “Are you accusing me of making this up, Armond? Of not doing due diligence?”
“That’s not what I was trying to—”
“Then choose your words more carefully.” I brandish the knife that I’ve had concealed in my waistband all this time. “Where were you last Friday night?”
Armond blanches. “I was at a—a—a—”
“Spit it out,” I snarl.
“A strip club!” he cries out. “The Lucky Slipper on 58th. I swear to God I was, Ilarion, I swear it.”
I nod. That confirms my intel. Then I steer my gaze towards Slava. “And you?”
“I…I would never betray you, boss—”
“Answer the question, Slava.”
He flushes scarlet. “I was…was at my mother’s.”
“Thatwas convincing,” I drawl sarcastically. “Are you sure you were trained under me?”
“Boss,” Slava croaks, his color darkening from scarlet to off-purple. “Pakhan, listen—”
“No,” I spit, “youlisten.” I stride right up to him, dwarfing Slava in my shadow. “Tell me where you were right now, or I’m going to carve the name ‘Bellasio’ into your forehead so that everyone who sees your head on a spike knows what you did to deserve it.”
Slava shakes his head. “I’m serious! I was at my mom’s place. She insists I have dinner with her twice a week.”
“Should we call her and confirm?”
Slava’s eyes bug out. Even Armond is looking disgusted at his cowardice. “Boss, my mom ain’t got no clue what I do. She doesn’t even like toy guns.”
I grab him by the collar of his shirt and drag him towards me, placing the knife right at his Adam’s apple.
“How about knives?” I muse. “Does she like knives?”
He swallows, and his throat bobs up and down against the blade, nicking it enough to draw a single bead of blood. He cringes, but he doesn’t swallow again.
Repulsed, I shove him away from me and flick the blade between my fingers.
“I’m going to clean up my house if it’s the last thing I do,” I intone. “Armond, get out of the way.”
