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“That’s what our guys said,” Damian said.
Lyon shoved the papers back into the manila envelope and stood. “Thank you. Truly.”
Damian nodded. “You’ll need help, additional men.”
“I’ve already contacted Murphy,” Lyon said. He exhaled. “I owe you.”
What he really meant was that he owed the Syndicate. It didn’t hurt as much as he’d expected.
Damian grinned. “Don’t think we won’t collect.”
Lyon laughed. “Not for a second.”
He waved to Aria, still out with the twins by the pool, and Damian walked him to the door.
Lyon pulled down the long driveway with his mind spinning. Vadim had kept him in the freight tunnels, but that’s not where he was staging.
He was staging from the water, from the cribs.
That meant he either wanted to make it difficult for someone to get to him, or he had a lot more men than they’d bargained for.
Or both.
Lyon used voice command to call Alek.
“What’s up, boss?”
“Gather the men together tomorrow morning,” Lyon said. “Just the ones who were part of the invasion in the tunnels and the hospital.”
There had been no leaks among the men involved in his rescue. If there had been, Lyon wouldn’t be free.
“You found them?” Alek asked.
“I found them. And Alek?”
“Yeah?
“We’re going to need some boats."
21
Lyon waited in the wood paneled room, remembering the last time he’d been here. Kira had fled to Orcas Island, although Lyon hadn’t known then that Alek had found her and was on his way back.
Lyon had been nervous, wondering if his handling of the feud with Musa would prevent him from being named pakhan by the Spies, but in the end, he’d been the lesser of two evils.
Now Musa was dead, and instead of building an empire as Lyon had planned, instead of bringing the bratva into the twenty-first century, he was beating off yet another rival, approaching the Spies from a position of weakness, to ask permission no less.
It was enough to make him crazy, and he forced himself to breathe, to stay focused on the long game. It was understandable that more than one man would be in the race for control of the bratva. It was a lucrative territory, one that could be made even more lucrative if led by the right person.
His mistake had been in believing Viktor Baranov was his key to the kingdom. He should have expected there would be others vying for the crown.
A door opened in the wood-paneled wall and a broad-shouldered man in a suit entered the room, a weapon visible under his jacket. “They’ll see you now.”
Alek straightened as if to follow him, and Lyon held up a hand. “I’m good.”
Alek reluctantly stepped back against the wall, and Lyon followed the suited man through the door.
The room had been a ballroom in the mansion’s heyday. Now it was cavernous and nearly empty of furnishings, only a carpeted runner leading to a curved wooden table at the other end of the room.
