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They’d always known his moves then. But why? “Why have you been watching me?”
“A dangerous man recognizes it in others,” Dima told him. “Your uncle was always a fuckup and a wannabe, but you were something different. When you left, it was necessary to make sure you wouldn’t become a threat. You weren’t when you were fixing flat tires and mending windshields.” He grinned. “But you are now, aren’t you?”
Zander lifted his chin. “Do I scare you, Zhirkov?”
Dima kept grinning. “My daughter holds my heart in her hands; she scares me. You don’t. My husband’s reaction if I’m not home in time to kiss our daughter good night before she falls asleep scares me.” He shrugged. “You don’t.”
Israel snorted. Even stoic Reggie managed a chuckle.
“Who do you have inside my organization?” Zander posed that question to Israel, who tsked.
“Now, why would I give up all my secrets? Let’s talk about the casino.”
“Not up for discussion,” Zander shot back. He’d have to do another purge when they got back to Jersey in order to sniff out that rat. Make an example of them so others would get the message.
“Well.” Israel rubbed his hands together. “If the casino is off the table, let’s talk about the shipment of guns you’re expecting from your French connect.”
Zander had to struggle to keep from showing his surprise at the swift change in topics. “What?”
“What were they charging you? Thirty, thirty-five?” Dima asked.
“What the fuck?” How did they even?—
“Sebastien is dead,” Dima declared.
Zander stared at him. Sebastien was the name of his uncle’s gun supplier. He’d always had that role for as long as Zander could remember. He’d considered changing things when he’d come on board, but why fix what wasn’t broken? Sebastien had no problems taking orders from Zander when they’d spoken. All he’d wanted was to continue to do business, and Zander was all for it; one less headache for him. There’d been no hint of disloyalty from the Frenchman.
“I killed him and took all his inventory,” Dima continued. “I don’t do well with competition.”
Zander tensed. Christ.
“Right now, we’re the only gun importers on the East Coast and it won’t be long before we branch out to the West Coast,” Israel said. “They’re playing hardball out there”—he winked—“but we’re harder.”
“That’s what this is about?” Vince spoke up. “You’re forcing him to do business with you?”
“I mean, who’s forcing?” Dima scowled. “Nobody’s forcing. All I’m saying is, we are now in possession of the weapons you would have gotten from Sebastien and we’ll sell them back to you for the low price of twenty million.” He widened his eyes in fake innocence. “As the only gun supplier around, and since we consider our Jersey neighbors to be almost like family, we’re prepared to offer you a contract of twenty million for the same product you would’ve gotten from Sebastien for thirty.” He shrugged, looking pleased with himself. “I think that’s a small price to pay to ensure the continued safety of you and your loved ones, am I right?”
This was their true plan. Not the fucking casino. This. They’d scared Vince and Scotty to death and almost given Zander a heart attack just to secure a motherfucking weapons contract? Zander turned away and grabbed Vince’s hand, leading him over to the couch where Scotty sat. He didn’t give a fuck about the weapons or contract. He just wanted to ensure that his men were okay. Scotty wasn’t speaking and Vince practically vibrated with anger on Zander’s behalf.
He was seconds away from saying fuck it all and walking right back into obscurity with Vince and Scotty.
Someone’s phone went off. Reggie’s. He pulled it from his pocket and put it to his ear, murmuring a few words and then hanging up. Then he went to Israel, whispering in his ear. Israel’s expression didn’t change but he nodded and Reggie walked over to the door, pulling it open.
“Aye.” He greeted whoever was on the other side, slapping hands with them before stepping aside so they could enter.
Toro. He was about as tall as Zander, with short brown hair and light brown skin, a shadow on his jaw, and broad shoulders. Zander’s ace. The minute Israel had mentioned Zander traveling to Brooklyn, Zander had called up his friend to act as buffer between them since Toro and Israel had a family connection. He walked in with a woman close behind. A bald older woman. She was familiar and stunning, with skin like dark chocolate, dressed in a white silk blouse and long plum-colored wide-legged pants. She and Reggie eyed each other like prey circling, then she smiled and Reggie shook his head, rolling his eyes.
“Son.” The woman addressed Israel, who glanced at her over his shoulder.
“Seraphina.”
Seraphina Cook. A Queenpin in her own right and Israel Storm’s mother. No wonder he was dangerous.
“This is an agent’s wet dream,” Vince said in a low voice. “All of these heavy hitters in one room? Fuck.”
“Kian.” Toro spotted him.
“Zander!” Vince, Dima, and Israel spoke at once.
