by Roxie Rivera
The knot in his stomach eased when Julio pointed toward Mr. Lu. The elderly man held up both hands and immediately started to protest. Julio began to talk over him, and Nikolai stepped in like a father separating arguing children. "Come on. One at a time. Julio?"
"Our market share is dropping around the city, and it's not because the red ribbon campaigns are working. Our dealers—Lalo and his men—are reporting that someone is undercutting their prices and flooding the market with product. It's coming from his territory."
"No, no, no." Lu waved both hands. "We don't deal in drugs." He stated his position firmly, and Nikolai didn't detect a hint of untruth. Apparently the old man was in the dark about his nephew's activities. Boychenko had reported back with an address and half a night's worth of observation that confirmed Bobby Pham was dealing.
"Bullshit," Julio spat back. "I had two guys do buys from a dishwasher at a pho shop and a massage parlor."
"I can't control every single lowlife in my territory." Mr. Lu turned his attention to Nikolai. "If there are side deals going on in my backyard, I'll take care of it." He glanced at Julio. "You should have come to me first. This didn't have to be escalated as a council matter."
"I wanted it out in the open, in front of everyone," Julio said and cast a look at Spider. "But if Lu says that he'll take care of it, I take him at his word."
Nikolai sipped his coffee. This was far from settled, but he wasn't going to get involved. Not publicly, at least. "Next item?"
"That's me." Nicky raised a dark hand glittering with gold jewelry. "And Lu."
The old man made an irritated noise. "I told you that all purchases are final."
"No, no, no, no, no." Nicky pounded his finger against the tabletop like a nail going into wood. "You guarantee the shipments."
"Yes, I guarantee the shipments. I guarantee that they arrive and are transferred to you. That's my guarantee. I don't guarantee what's in the boxes!"
Nicky leaned across the table, forcing Mueller back into his seat. "How in the hell are my boys supposed to push lean when the syrup is bad? Huh?"
Ah, now Nikolai understood the issue. Nicky bought huge quantities of promethazine and codeine from Chinese suppliers to sell to users who mixed it with lemon-lime soda to get high. They called it lean because the kids who drank that shit started to tilt and lean after a cup or two. It used to be easy enough for Nicky's guys to doctor shop to get their ingredients. With the DEA cracking down, Nicky had turned to Mr. Lu who imported and delivered the cough syrup without incident.
"What the fuck do you want us to do about it?" Besian rolled the jaw breaker around his mouth. The sound of it knocking against his teeth irritated Nikolai but he tried to ignore it. "Lu is right. We pay him for shipping and customs. That's it."
"He gave me the supplier contact. That's on him," Nicky insisted. "He's on both sides of this deal. He's taken a cut from the supplier for making the contract, and he's getting my shipping and handling fees. Now he's telling me that he can get me the good stuff from a different factory—at twice the price and only if I clear the debt on that last shipment that I can't even give away." Nicky shook his head. "This shit ain't right, y'all."
Mr. Lu started to argue about his policies, but Nikolai had had enough of it. Besian caught his eye, and they shared a look of understanding. It was time for the gangster version of good cop, bad cop.
"You know, Lu, it sounds like you're losing your touch, old man." Besian crunched what was left of the jaw breaker between his back teeth. "You've got kids selling some of that sweet Colombian llelo right in your backyard, and now you're making the whole Fifth Ward sick with your bad syrup."
Mr. Lu sputtered. "That is not—"
"Nicky, maybe I should put you in contact with my man. He can get you anything you want from anywhere in the world." Besian made the offer with a smile, but it was a threat as dangerous as a knife to the throat for Lu. Without the confidence of the men at this table, he couldn't do business. If they started using Zec for their shipments, they would cut the old man off at the knees.
"Look," Lu interjected hastily, "we don't have to be so drastic." With a resigned sigh, he turned toward Nicky. "I'll take back the shipment, and I'll get you a clean shipment on my dime to replace it."
"I want the same price for the new shipments," Nicky countered.
"I can't get it for that price," Lu insisted.
"Bullshit. You and your—"
"Enough," Nikolai interrupted. "Nicky, the market is the market. When prices rise, we all have to adjust." He looked to Mr. Lu. "At the same time, it's better to ease these types of price changes onto our customers. So let's talk about a six month discount." Knowing that Nicky wanted a good deal and Lu had to think about thin margins, he started off at a number that left room for negotiations. "Thirty percent?"
"Impossible!" Mr. Lu vehemently refused. He waited two heartbeats before countering, "Ten."
Cheap old bastard. "Twenty-five."
"Fifteen."
"Twenty," Nikolai said, his voice lower and sharper.
Lu sighed. "Yeah. Okay."
Nikolai glanced at the man who ran the Fifth Ward. "Do we have a deal?"
Nicky gave a slight nod. "Yes."
"Good." Nikolai placed both hands around his coffee cup. Fully expecting Julio to bring up his issues with Mando, he asked, "Anything else?"
"Pussy," Besian said, fishing a new jaw breaker from his pocket.
Nikolai's mouth settled into a grim line. His family didn't touch the skin trade, but several of the men at the table had lucrative business lines dedicated to it. "What about it?"
"In the last two months, I've had to send my guys out to chase away the corner girls who have been hanging around the strip clubs." He popped a green candy into his mouth. "They come in vans from Nicky's district and hang around the parking lots. Instead of spending money to get into a VIP room in my clubs, the customers are taking their dollars outside to visit these cut-rate streetwalkers. It's cutting into my bottom line and draws police attention. Lights and sirens are bad for business."
"Look, man," Nicky sat forward, "Sugar's sits on the edge of the buffer zone. Do you expect me to hook GPS tags on my girls? They walk the streets. I can't help it if they cross an invisible line."
"Invisible line my ass," Besian growled. "I'm pretty fucking sure they can see the huge hot pink lips blinking on top of Sugar's. This is you making plays and edging into my territory." He swept his hand along the table. "We've talked about this. We agreed—"
"We agreed that you get the high-end action," Nicky cut in with a wag of his finger. "You get the security business for the high-end escorts Alina runs out of her brothel and the strip clubs. I have all the street action. That was the deal. But you've been pinching my girls and running your escorts around my territory."
"That's not the way it happened," Besian argued. "I can't help it if your girls are tired of giving fat fucks handjobs in back alleys and getting their knees dirty over at the Flying J parking lot. Employee retention isn't my problem. You should take that up with Alina." He crunched another jaw breaker. "We're just her hired muscle."
Nickel Jackson rapped one of his golden rings on the table. "Don't give me that line. You and Alina have been running your games for years."
Wading into the fray, Nikolai said, "Maybe we need a bigger buffer between your two territories."
Julio agreed with a slow nod. "I'm with the Russian on this one. Every time we meet, you two squabble about territory issues. Your business interests intersect too much. We could partition off a strip between the two of you and give it the Hermanos."
Now that didn't surprise Nikolai one bit. The Hermanos street gang was closely allied with the cartel and helped maintain their presence here in the city.
"We have businesses in that area around Sugar's," Mr. Lu mentioned. "We could take it."
Nikolai noticed that Spider didn’t make an offer to take the piece they were discussing. He was smart and practical and likely anticipated it woul
d be more trouble than it was worth to his MC. Nikolai considered the new man at the table. "Mueller."
"Yes?" By the look on his face, he already knew what was about to be asked of him.
"How would you like to be the new owner of ten Houston blocks?"
Mueller rubbed his thumb over his watch face. "Real estate is my legit business. I'll buy anything if I can get a good price."
"Then today is your lucky day because I'm giving it away free," Nikolai remarked.
After the expected grumbling from Besian and Nicky over the new arrangement, they settled some of the smaller issues and ended their meeting. Nikolai tensed when he noticed Julio passing Spider, but the two men didn't exchange a word.
"Trouble in paradise?" Besian asked in that maddening way of his. The man could ferret out a secret faster than Kostya. "What's that saying around here?" He dug around in his pocket and produced another jaw breaker. "Oh. Right. Too many chiefs and not enough Indians."
Nikolai snatched the candy away from Besian, the plastic wrapper crinkling loudly as he closed his fingers around it. "I can't listen to you crunching another one of these." He stuffed it into his own pocket. "You're going to ruin your teeth."
Besian issued an amused chuff. "Yes, Papa."
Nikolai shot him a warning look. "What is with the candy?"
"I'm trying to cut back on the smokes," Besian explained. "Apparently they kill people. The candy helps me fight the urge to light up."
"You're going to need a dentist and a gym if you keep this up," Nikolai warned. "All that sugar? You'll be trading lung cancer for diabetes."
Besian shot him the finger. "What about you? How did you stop?"
A memory flashed before his eyes. Suddenly he was rifling through his desk drawers and coat pockets at Samovar in search of a pack of cigarettes. He couldn't understand why they kept disappearing. Certain one of the employees with cash flow problems was pinching them, he had gone into the locker room to check the cubicles.
Desperate to feed his habit, he had opened the first locker—and froze at the sight that greeted him. Two stacks of cigarette packs, some brand new and sealed and others half empty, sat on a shelf in the locker. It wasn't the discovery of his stolen cigarettes that had stunned him. No, it was the realization that he was staring into Vivian's locker. His gaze had settled on the photos taped to the door and interior walls. All but one were Vivian with Lena, Erin and Bianca at various social gatherings—college football games, concerts, night clubs and the beach.
But that one photo taped to the left wall, down low where it was almost easy to overlook, had ensnared him. It had been snapped a few months earlier when the staff at Samovar had blindsided him with a birthday cake before the doors opened for lunch. More than anything, he had been startled someone had discovered his birthday. Until, of course, he had spotted Vivian standing near the rear of the small crowd, her fingers interlaced and her expression a mixture of excitement and fear. Somehow she had wheedled that bit of information out of one of his friends. Vanya, he was sure. The former street fighter had a soft spot for Vivian.
But soft spot didn't even begin to describe what he felt toward the blue-eyed beauty who had completely upended his carefully arranged world. So when she had bitten her lip and silently pleaded with him to just sit the hell down and pretend that he enjoyed the off-key notes of his staff singing Happy Birthday that's exactly what he did.
For her. Because, if he was being truly honest with himself, everything he did had been for her and only her since the moment he had discovered her bleeding, broken body in the front yard of that house.
When it was time to cut the cake and partition out small squares to the staff, Vivian had been the one who came forward with a knife to handle the task. Someone had snapped a photograph of her by his side, a sweet smile on her face and the hint of one ghosting across his. It was a totally innocent photograph and rather unremarkable to anyone who didn't know what to look for—but he knew and he saw it.
He had taken that photo and tucked it into his wallet. Later, with a couple of drinks in him, he had discovered the decency to be embarrassed and a little bit ashamed for stealing from Vivian. The photo had meant something to her, but he suspected it meant more to him. Looking at that photo, he could almost imagine that it had been just the two of them. Together. Happy.
Even now, more than two years later, he still tugged that photo out of his wallet on occasion and ran his finger along her face. Their home was decorated with dozens of photos of the two of them, but that one meant the most to him. It was the first. It had been so important to him that he had secretly scanned and saved it, just in case he ever needed another copy.
Realizing he had drifted into his thoughts, Nikolai stood up and glanced at Besian who wore a slightly bemused expression. "Vee asked me to quit so I did."
Besian seemed surprised by his honesty. "Just like that?"
"No. I tripped up quite a few times but I kept trying." For her.
"Well," Besian said on a low breath and rose from his chair, "then I'm fucked. I'll never meet a woman like your little artist. God knows I've looked."
"Because there are no other women like Vee," he answered matter-of-factly. Thinking of the women Besian paraded around town, he made a simple suggestion. "Stop looking in the wrong places."
"Oh, there's a list then? Of right and wrong places?"
It was one thing to discuss women with his closest friends, but giving relationship advice to a rival boss? Not really his thing. Deciding to cut this discussion short, he pointed out the obvious. "Stop dating your employees."
"You married your employee."
Affronted that Besian would even think to compare Vivian to the naked, glitter-dusted girls dancing on his stages, he glared at the man. "That's my wife you're talking about, Besian. We are friends, but don't think for one fucking second that distinction means anything when it comes to her."
The Albanian boss held up his hands. "Hey, come on. I didn't mean it like that."
Irritated with Besian, he asked, "Are we done?"
"We will be as soon as you tell me what the hell is going on between the cartel and the Calaveras. I have side deals with the MC for bikes and bike parts. Do I need to cut back on those shipments and add more security?"
"It's business as usual. The issue is personal. It has nothing to do with the cartel or the club."
"You sure?" Besian glanced at the closed door and stepped closer. "I'm hearing shit, Nikolai. Worrisome shit," he added seriously.
He had been hearing the same worrisome shit, but he shrugged it off. "There are always rumors. That's the nature of our world."
"It's not only rumors. I saw something the other day. Something very strange."
Nikolai narrowed his eyes. "And what was that?"
"I took 59 to Laredo last week to check up on our operation there. Do you know what I saw?"
"Drug mules. Drug dealers. Corrupt deputies." He listed the usual things one might find on that stretch of highway. US 59 was notorious for drug traffic and heavily favored by the cartel.
"Hector Salas, Lalo Contreras and two of Mr. Lu's nephews all left the same hotel. I was sitting in the lobby reading the paper when I spotted Lalo first. I didn't think much of it because, hell, he's the cartel's street man. When I spotted the two Pham boys and Hector?" Besian shook his head. "That's not a coincidence."
Hector Salas had a reputation as the cartel's fixer and top enforcer. His father had been drug lord Lorenzo Guzman's best friend, but it was his mother that was really interesting. She had been the sister of Eddie Rivera, one of the richest men in the country. A cartel squabble twenty years earlier had killed her. She had been violently and brutally murdered.
According to the stories around town, Hector's father had sent him to Houston to live with Eddie and his family. By all accounts, Marco Salas had promised his wife their son wouldn't follow in his footsteps. Clearly he had failed. From what Nikolai knew of the story, Hector had served ten years in the milit
ary before being dishonorably discharged and tossed to the wolves. The cartel had come calling, and the rest was history.
The puzzle pieces started to fit together now. Lorenzo Guzman was feeling the squeeze south of the border. Rival cartels were gaining strength and market share. He had Romero, once a friend and now his enemy, making plays in his backyard with the support of Maksim. Were Lorenzo's captains and street soldiers thinking of staging a coup? How did these Vietnamese kids fit into this? There were so many Latino street gangs in Houston. Lalo and Hector could have picked any or all of them to start running product and setting up new supply lines so why the Pham boys?
"I'll look into it." Nikolai headed for the door. "I hate these shady, backroom deals."
"Whatever happens? My crew stands with you."
Nikolai glanced at Besian and nodded. The Albanians had some lucrative businesses and sidelines in the city but they didn’t have strength. They limited their growth by only allowing those who were connected by blood or marriage to join the ranks. It cut down on the sort of backstabbing bullshit that was probably happening right now inside the cartel—but it meant they needed the protection of a bigger organization.
"We're with you," Nikolai confirmed.
"And the others?" Besian gestured toward the closed door with a lift of his chin. "If the cartel implodes, we're going to have the barbarians at the gate. We'll need every man we can get."
"Yes, we will." Already doing the math and thinking of the dozens of ways this could end, Nikolai left the storage locker with Besian at his side.
"Oh. I forgot." Besian snapped his fingers. "Everything is ready for Ten's party. You get him to the warehouse, and I'll handle the rest."
Nikolai wasn't thrilled by the welcome home party that had been arranged by the captains, but he wasn't about to stop them. Ten had given six years of his life to protect the family so he was willing to turn a blind eye to whatever was going to happen tonight at Besian's warehouse.
"No alcohol, Besian." He fixed the slightly shorter man with a pointed look. "They'll force him to piss at his first meeting with his parole officer tomorrow morning. They're going to be watching him closely. He has to do everything by the book or else he'll have to go back inside and finish up his ten years."