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“And go where, exactly? I have nothing else, Nicolaevich. No family, no plans for my future. This is it. I’m going to be here to witness you all burn.”
One look into his eyes and I can see just how deranged the detective has become. There’s no light behind his irises, no hope. This is a man who is ready and waiting for death, not an ounce of fear or regret to be found.
I grant him the courtesy of allowing him to polish off the remainder of his drink. He stands slowly, turns around, and puts his hands behind his back. I nod at Damien, who steps forward to bind his wrists together with a pair of thick black zip ties.
“Throw him in the trunk,” I instruct. “I’ll call the Antonovs. It’s time to bring this war to an end.”
Chapter 33
Andrei
Idon’t need to be an expert in reading body language to know tensions are running high. This is a public meeting—as is the tradition—hosted in a restaurant that’s been completely booked out.
The lighting is dim. Armed men are everywhere. They don’t just belong to the Antonovs, but to the other families I’ve managed to piss off, as well. Why couldn’t we have done this in the back of some dingy room? Because this is a show of good faith, of honor, an unspoken code of conduct. There is nowhere to hide here, no secrets to be kept…
Which is exactly how I know everyone in this room hates my guts and they’reitchingto reach for their guns and show it.
Sandra—gorgeous, beautiful, fierce Sandra—sits at the head of the table. Her father and her uncles stand behind her like silent stone sentries. Around the table, the other Bratva heads sit. Some faces are familiar. Others are not. They all have one thing in common, though, and it’s the way they all stare daggers at me and my brothers as we enter the room with Ivanovich in tow.
I toss the slim audio recorder I had hidden in my pocket onto the table. Sandra reaches for it and presses play.
“So you shot Frederick Antonov on purpose?”
“I briefly considered killing Sandra. You know, a daughter for a daughter? But I figured the boy would be an easier target.”
She presses the stop button, giving some time to let Ivanovich’s words settle over the room. We have our confession. Now it’s time for a peace offering. All I have to do is nod at Samuil, who gives the detective a hard shove forward, presenting him to the whole room.
“Let’s end this conflict between us,” I say, loud and clear. “And in exchange, I’ll give you the man who started it all.”
Sandra strums her fingers against the table in front of her. I know for a fact she’s as eager as I am to agree, but I understand why she has to put on a little show. Nobody here can ever find out about our plan or our relationship unless we want our reputations and respect to go up in smoke.
“What about the territory you stole from us?” she asks smoothly. “We want it back.”
“We can discuss that later,” I say, because I frankly don’t want to give up what we’ve gained. This is something we’ll have to settleafterwe’ve dealt with Ivanovich. One problem at a time, slow and steady.
Sandra presses her lips into a thin line. All eyes are on her. I don’t envy the weight of responsibility bearing down on her shoulders. I can see the gears turning in her head, deliberating her next move. She has allies to appease, but there’s an even more pressing matter at hand.
“Fine,” she says, standing from her seat. “We will deal with this traitor first, and then I will take back my territory.”
I can’t help but admire her balls as Sandra steps toward the detective, her eyes dragging over him from head-to-toe. If looks could kill, Ivanovich would be dead ten times over by now. With impressive speed, Sandra winds back and nails the son of a bitch in the nose with a swift left hook.
Ivanovich crumbles to the floor, groaning in agony. Nobody makes a move to help him. Why would they, after all the pain and suffering he’s caused?
“That’s for my little brother,” she grumbles. Sandra turns swiftly to address the rest of the room. “Let it be made clear: this war is over. We were manipulated into a conflict that never should have happened. My family and I will deal with the rat accordingly. The rest of you, it’s back to business as usual. We have a lot of profit to make up for. Mr. Nicolaevich and I will discuss the details with regards to territory, and I assure you I will advocate for all your best interests in the proceeding negotiations. Let this be done and behind us.”
There’s a grumble of agreement. “Yes, ma’am.”
On the floor, Ivanovich rolls over onto his stomach and starts to laugh. It begins as a wheezy chuckle, slowly evolving into something maniacal and dark. I always assumed there had to be a couple of screws loose in that head of his, but this cements my image of the lunatic. He’s lost it, plain and simple.
I kick his arm with my foot. “Shut up, asshole.”
He only laughs harder.
“The fuck is his problem?” Sandra grumbles under her breath.
“I don’t—”
BANG! BANG!
