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“No. I made certain of it. What’s going on, Sean?”
“I want a deal first. Then I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” He was antsy, shifting from foot to foot, constantly staring at the door. “This is about the New Orleans Bratva. Right?”
“Maybe. Now, I’m curious. What are you offering?”
He scratched his arm, using enough pressure he drew blood. “It’s crazy. Complicated.”
Jesus. The guy was ready to either jump out of his skin or a window.
“Do you have anything to drink in the condo?” I asked.
“Yeah. Full bar over there. Help yourself.” He pointed to the far side of the expansive living room, the floor-to-ceiling windows providing a fantastic view of the river and downtown area.
I headed to the bar, grabbing a bottle of scotch and filling a single glass. When I returned, I held it out to him. “Drink this. You need to take a breath. What do you want in exchange for this deal you’re proposing?”
He glanced at the drink as if I’d had the time to poison it, yet he downed it with a single gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. He appeared like a man who’d accidentally seen a crime he shouldn’t have or worse.
As if his world had been shattered.
“Immunity. A place inside your organization. Protection.”
“From the Baranov Bratva.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.
Snorting, he glanced into his empty glass as if liquid would magically appear. “They’re the hired gun but fucking deadly. Like vipers.”
“As you suspected, we already know that Omar Baranov is seeking revenge for a decades-old situation with our family, Sean. That means nothing at this point.” My brother had an arrogant tone in his voice. He didn’t like playing games any more than I did.
“God. You think I ratted out your family. Don’t you? For this?” He held up his butchered, bandaged hand, studying me before laughing. “This is nothing in comparison to what my father might do for telling you a goddamn thing.”
That could be a true statement depending on whether or not his father was a part of this. It was time to drag the elephant into the room. “Your father is behind this.”
“As I said, I want some kind of promise you won’t kill me.”
I took a deep breath, hating the ache that had developed behind my eyes. “I’m not in the mood for killing anyone today, Sean.” But I was in the mood to break heads and would if he didn’t stop acting like a child.
He danced from foot to foot. “And I can come work for you?”
“Sure. Why not?” This game was getting old.
“Good. Good. I think you’ll like what I can bring to the table. I’m an expert hacker and have years of experience in building computer systems. I don’t mind being extra muscle anytime you need because I don’t have an aversion to blood or violence. I think you know that. Oh, and I’m totally off drugs and most alcohol. Granted, today being an exception for the liquid libation but I’ll curtail my indulgences till after the business is concluded.”
The man was really giving me his verbal resume? I could feel Gregory’s amused scrutiny from beside me. I waved my hand. “That’s enough, Sean. You’re right in that I’m well aware of your qualifications. What in the fuck is going on? What do you think you know?”
“As my daddy always told me, art speaks louder than words. Let me get a file for you.” He started to walk away then stopped, narrowing his eyes. “I can trust you. Right? You’ll keep your promise to me.”
I held up my hand. “Scout’s honor.”
“Okay. Good. Good. I believe you.” He almost jogged out of the room after placing his empty glass on the coffee table.
Whew. I was now the one who needed a drink. I headed to the bar, more than slightly confused from whatever the hell was going on.
“You were never a scout,” Gregory told me.
“Yeah, I know that. He doesn’t.” I poured two glasses, figuring my brother was in the same boat as I was, scratching his head as he tried to process what we were dealing with.
“Okay. Whatever you say, bro.”
I laughed as I brought him a drink. “Here’s to the day getting weird.”
