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I nod. “Then I’ll go?—”
“No,” Ippolit interrupts me. “This would be a good test for Nikolai. He should be the one to kill Raymond as his initiation rite.”
I picture the scrawny boy on the couch, his thin legs longer than his torso, shooting imaginary attackers on his screen. “The boy is nine,” I protest.
“And I was ten when I made my first kill,” Gennady points out. “He’s been coddled by his mother long enough. She wants him to be a creative. Well, drawing a picture isn’t contributing anything to the Bratva.”
Matvei is the only one who dares to stand in his father’s presence. Seventeen and already built like a grown man, he stands up and narrows his gaze on Gennady.
“It’s a bad idea, Father,” he says. “This job is too big for him. You want a clean kill.”
“You and your mother have to stop protecting him,” replies Gennady hotly.
“Just because Granddad whipped you into shape doesn’t mean the tradition needs to continue.”
Matvei smirks as his father scowls. Gennady told me once that Matvei looks too much like Tanya, and that’s the only thing that saves him from getting smacked in the mouth. That and he’s a mean SOB like his dad. The boy is fearless, while the other is too sensitive. Maybe Nikolai should be made to toughen up, but not like this.
Not against Aria.
“Maybe you’re right,” Gennady says slowly. “I’ve heard what Ippolit thinks. Zakhar, what do you think?”
I’m caught in my thoughts and not quick to reply. I hesitate, and the words stay in my throat a half a second too long. “I need more time, my pakhan. I need to be thorough. If you kill D’Artello without enough proof, they’ll just replace him.”
Ippolit shakes his head. “Killing D’Artello sends a message regardless of the proof. We don’t have to prove anything. They know what they’ve done.”
“It’s too dangerous to send either of your sons,” I argue. “The Lanzzare aren’t stupid, and this sideline is too profitable for them to allow someone to walk in and start shooting.” I look at Matvei. “It’s a suicide job.”
Matvei puffs out his chest. “I can do it, Dad.”
“No,” I say with force. The word is sharp as it cuts through the conversation. “There are too many unknowns, and that makes it dangerous. When I finish my investigation, I’ll deal with Raymond D’Artello. I promise.”
Ippolit eyes me as if he knows I’m lying, but that’s impossible. Yet … I sense something is wrong, and he knows too much. But what? I can’t allow them to carry out this hit. Not only will it reveal my deceit, an affair with a member of the Lanzzare, but what happens when they discover the truth?
Aria is Raymond, and they won’t think twice before shooting a woman.
Or worse.
“I won’t make a decision today,” Gennady says, walking toward the office door. He scowls when he opens it. “Kolya,” he shouts. “Idi suda!”
The boy walks in, looking lost in a forest of towering trees, keeping his gaze on the floor.
“Go with your brother and practice shooting,” he says. “With a real gun.”
“Come on, Kolya.” Matvei takes his brother’s hand. “You hit the target, and I’ll give you a prize.”
Kolya’s frown lifts into a smile. “What kind of prize?” he asks breathlessly.
Matvei laughs. “We’ll go to the Met, and you can hide from Father.”
I trymy best to stop Aria, begging her to slow down or at least stop hitting our trucks. She laughs as I beg, her lips touching my bare skin, and then I start begging for other things. We meet in my little rented beach house, and I leave her safely in bed as I rush to the city.
I don’t understand the text.
The elevator doors open, and I hurry into the office to find Gennady pacing.
“What is it? What has happened?”
“I sent my boy,” he replies, and I frown in confusion. “I sent Matvei to carry out the hit against D’Artello. I have intel from Gunsyn that D’Artello is in Secaucus.”
