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While it’s easy to work in the family business, it can’t last. My father and grandfather’s murders can attest to that. I don’t want to go out the way they did. I don’t know how much longer I can stand sleeping with a gun under my pillow or my house having so many alarm systems that I rarely walk around after dark, for fear that I’ll set something off. With Abel with me, though, I haven’t armed any of the systems upstairs, just in case he gets up to venture around. Another thing Quin wants me to tell Abel about, since Quin wants everything armed at all times. I still refuse to have anyone walking around outside my home, so Quin is really pushing for me to set all the alarms again.
It’s a rough life full of paranoia and I’m at the end of my rope with it. I don’t know how my father did it for so long. He wasn’t murdered until he was sixty. A long time in the game, honestly. My mother died in childbirth, so I’m not sure how she handled the pressure before that. For my father, that’s a long time to look over your shoulder. I don’t want to spend my last days worried that someone is going to come after me for the empire they built. And I have more money than I can spend, most of it stashed in various offshore accounts. Do I really need this?
Coming to that conclusion, I know for certain that I need to plan an exit strategy. I have a feeling I won’t be able to put it off much longer. I’m wary of the silence from the Russians. It’s been too long since they’ve done anything to directly affect my business, when for years after my father was killed, they tried everything to disrupt my imports and steal my clientele. Their silence serves as a warning and a push to get the fuck out.
We pull into the back parking lot of the restaurant, the one that Quin and my other guys scoped out in the weeks leading up to this dinner. While the clients I’m meeting tonight aren’t in the life, you can never be too careful. Looking out of my window, I see the black sedan parked three spots over, full of my men. Though the restaurant is pretty out of the way, it’s always busy and extremely popular, the ideal location for doing this kind of business. We’re early, so we have some time to sit and talk.
After Quin puts the car in park, I blurt out, “I’m tired, man.”
“Wanna cancel the meet?” He asks, turning around to face me. “I can have your VP reschedule and he can take it instead.” Not a part of his job description, but Quin likes the organization of the legal operation. He’s good at it.
I sigh heavily and look out the window. “No, Quin. I’mtired,” I emphasize.
He’s quiet for a bit, chewing his bottom lip. I feel like he’s thinking the same thing I am. We barely survived the attempt on my life. Even though it was seven years ago, it’s the closest we’ve come to dying. If Michael and my father weren’t nearby and able to get us to the family doctor, we probably wouldn’t have survived at all.
Quin raises an eyebrow and asks, “You mean, leave the business? What about your dad? Your grandfather? Their legacy?”
I know it’ll sound harsh, but it’s how I feel. “They’re dead. They can’t dictate my life anymore. And this life …” I blow out a hard breath. “I’m over it, man.” I close my eyes briefly, then meet his deep brown eyes. “You know what I mean?” It’s insane to put that into words because a few short weeks ago, I convinced myself there was no way I could leave this life I was born into. Now, I’m not so sure. My piece of mind is more important than my pride.
If anyone knows what I mean, it’s Quin. And like I thought he would, he nods slowly. “I do. So how do you wanna do this? It’ll be war for the territory if you announce you’re stepping back. Someone may try to take you out before you go just for the fuck of it.”
Rubbing a hand over my face, I feel my scars, taking me back to the accident. They’re not as thick and raised as they were seven years ago, but they still feel rough under my palm. “They’ve tried that,” I say and drop my hand to my lap. “I guess it’s been a few years since they were bold enough to try to kill me. Might be time to get out before they do.”
Looking at his watch, Quin says, “We’ve got twenty minutes before the meeting. I might have an idea. It’s far-fetched and might not work … but it may very well be what we need if we time it correctly. Wanna hear?”
Shrugging, I lean back further in the seat. “Lay it on me.”
He lays out his plan, and it’s actually not bad. Like he said, it has to be timed perfectly, and the opportunity has to present itself before we can do it. But there’s no reason we shouldn’t get ready and make the connections now, just in case.
“Not bad,” I mutter with a slight smile. At the last moment, I tell him. “Add Abel in there, too.”
Quin does a double take. “You sure? What if it goes down after the year is up?”
I don’t want to think about that, but I answer him anyway. “Then we’ll stick to the plan of you, me, and Michael. But add him in just in case.”
He nods and hops out of the car. I check that my gun is safely tucked in my holster, easy to reach and easy to conceal. When everything is good, I straighten my jacket and we head inside.
The new contract we got will make us a lot of money over the next few years. The client was pleased with the beneficial mock-ups my accountants came up with, seeing how they could make twice as much as we do in the same amount of time, since my portal only takes a percentage to process the payments. Usually, the thought of the amount of money coming in would make me happy, but now, I just feel … empty.
Quin raises an eyebrow at me when I slam the door harder than necessary. Shaking my head, I glance out the window. Maybe when I get home, I’ll apologize to Abel and tell him what’s going on and why I wanted him to stay home. Let him know what he might be up against for the next ten months. I’ll have to find a way to protect him when he goes back home if the Russians find out about him, but I’ll take care of him.
Taking out my phone, I’m about to pull up his contact information when I see a text from Michael asking if Abel is with us. I call him immediately.
“What do you mean?” I ask in a level voice, an effort on my part because I told Abel not to leave the fucking house.
Michael hesitates for a beat, then says, “I checked his room, like you told me to do every night, and it’s empty. Usually, he tells me to come in when I knock, but I didn’t hear anything. So I went in, checked his bathroom and closet and nothing. He’s not in the house, Savage.”
“Check the cameras. I’ll track his phone.” I’m glad I installed a tracking app on his phone without him knowing a few weeks ago. He could be in danger. Or he will be when I get to him. He might like spankings, but I’ll find a punishment that he doesn’t. I won’t hurt him … much. And now I’m getting hard just thinking about spanking his thick ass.
I track his phone to an area downtown. Fuck, he’d better hope he’s not in danger.
Chapter Eight
Abel
Idon’tknowwhothe fuck Savage thinks he is, but he can’t stop me from going out. Okay, he’s scary and a Benavelli, but still. I’ve been looking forward to this event since Damon told me about it last month. My makeup is applied to perfection, my outfit is hot, and I finally got my curls the way I want them. There’s no way I’ll miss showing all this off tonight.
Not wanting to leave immediately after Savage pulls away, I wait twenty minutes to make sure he doesn’t circle back, then I leave through the kitchen. I walk down the driveway and out the gate with no fanfare. Instead of calling for an Uber right there at the front of the mansion, I walk a few blocks over and wait in front of a house that doesn’t screammega rich.
