by Roxie Rivera
"Hey, I'll take care of him. He's in good hands."
"He better be." Nikolai thought of Artyom and his mangled hand. "Because Luka isn't the only one with chisels and hammers in his garage."
Besian issued a dark laugh at that one. "I almost believe you."
Standing alone, Nikolai noticed Mueller and Julio lingering nearby, both wanting to speak with him. The others were long gone. He had wanted to speak with Spider but that would have to wait until he could track him down and corner him. Because he was certain the discussion with Julio was going to be a long one, he flicked his fingers at Mueller.
"Take a walk with me, Red Baron."
Chapter Five
Nikolai didn't even try to hide his smirk at the irritation that flashed across James Mueller's face upon hearing his nickname. Side by side, they slowly walked away from the container. Mueller spoke first. "I fucking hate that name."
"Should I even ask why it was given to you?"
"No."
He decided not to poke. "This new territory you've been given? I wouldn't try to set up shop there. You and your kind won't last a week in that neighborhood. Put some men there to keep the peace and leave it at that. Don't try to grow or put down roots. Nickel's men will try to push back and agitate so keep that in mind when you choose your men. "
"Not quite the welcome wagon I had expected," he replied, hands buried in his pockets.
Nikolai stopped and pivoted to face him. "Do I need to remind you what happened to the last lightning bolts and swastika crew that tried to gain a foothold here? Because I'm sure Kostya would love to take you for a ride so he can give you all the details."
"Look," Mueller whipped of his sunglasses, "I get it. Those Night Wolf assholes didn't play nicely in the sandbox. They were young and reckless. We aren’t. When it comes right down to it, the only color I care about is green. So if we can find a way to work together and make some money doing it? Great. If we can't, we'll close up shop and move on to more hospitable territory."
"Sounds like a reasonable plan," Nikolai agreed, glad to see the man understood the score here.
"That strip of territory you've given me is a shit sandwich, Kalasnikov, but I'm going to grab it right off that silver platter, take a big ole bite and smile. You run the show here, and we are not looking to upset that balance."
While Nikolai didn't appreciate the imagery of that rather colorful metaphor, he studied Mueller's face and saw no signs of lying. "What is it that your crew wants?"
"We want the ice trade in town. That's it."
"I'm not the man to ask for that. That action is city-wide, but Nickel holds the biggest share of the market. I doubt he'll be very accommodating if you get anywhere near his territory." And that was putting it nicely. Knowing what he did of the way Nicky Jackson had gained control of the Fifth Ward, he believed Mueller was in for a long, painful ride.
"You'll find I can be very persuasive." Mueller slipped his sunglasses back into place.
Nikolai didn't comment on that.
"This is a bit awkward, but my wife wanted to know if yours would be interested in exchanging contact info. Mindy is trying to get settled here. She's looking for a hair stylist, a spa, a personal shopper. Shit like that," Mueller said with a wave of his hand.
He had to bite back a guffaw at the idea of Vivian interacting with Mueller's wife. In case the man wasn't aware, he enlightened him. "My wife's father is Romero Valero."
"I'm aware of that."
"Then you're aware of the fact that Vivian is half-Mexican, yes?"
Mueller shrugged. "Like I said, when it comes to color, I'm only interested in the green printed on hundred dollar bills."
"Vivian's inner circle is full." Because it wouldn't kill him to extend a little kindness and earn some favor, he said, "She enjoys the salon and spa Holly Phillips owns. It's called Allure. I'm sure your wife can find the details online."
"Thanks." Mueller seemed to get the hint. "I'm sure I'll see you around town. Mindy likes to run with the philanthropist set. She's begging me to get a box at the opera. I hear you have one."
Nikolai nodded. The idea of running into Mueller at the one place he enjoyed when he needed a well-earned dose of relaxation and culture pissed him off. From now on, he would have to remind Vee to vet the guest lists for the society and charity invites that landed on their doorstep every month.
Mueller patted his chest and retrieved his cell phone. His mouth slanted with a smile. "It's my wife. We're closing on our new house this afternoon. River Oaks," he said. "The country club area. You're near there, right?"
Nikolai saw right through the innocent façade. The man was one of the most successful real estate agents in Dallas. Mueller would have no trouble finding out exactly where Nikolai lived, when he had bought his house, how much he had paid for it or the recent tax bill. "Yes. In one of the historic homes."
"Home? Estate more like," Mueller said with a laugh. "I have to take this." He extended his hand. "I hope this is the beginning of a prosperous relationship."
Nikolai shook his hand and fought the urge to wipe his palm on his jacket. Leaving Mueller, he moved toward Julio who gestured to his SUV. Nikolai hated getting into other people's cars. Kostya stood next to the vehicle and made the smallest gesture with his fingers to let Nikolai know he had checked the SUV during the meeting. It was safe and free of tracking and listening devices.
Inside the middle seat with Julio, he waited for the other man to speak. He didn’t dare reveal his hand until he was certain of what the other man knew. Julio sat stiffly, his hands clenched into fists. Nikolai eyed him warily. This guy was hanging on by a thread.
"I'd like to think that you and I have a good working relationship," Julio said. "We've done business for years. There has been friction, yes, but we've always managed to find a way to negotiate our way around it. The two of us—you and me—we've always kept the big bosses happy and away from each other's throats."
"We have." Nikolai wondered where he was going with this speech.
"I don't expect loyalty from you. We don't play for the same team. But some common fucking courtesy would have been nice," he growled. "How could you stand there at my boy's funeral and watch me put my son in the ground all while protecting that scum piece of shit who killed him?"
The pretense of the boy being the godson was gone. Nikolai didn't have to think too hard to understand why a man would deny a child his name and raise him outside his home. Life as Julio's son would have been exceedingly dangerous. By all accounts, the boy had enjoyed a normal, happy life before that awful night.
"I didn't know." Nikolai turned in his seat so Julio could clearly see his face. "I didn't know until this morning. Had I known that one of those MC bastards had killed that boy—your boy—I would have trussed him up myself and delivered him to you wrapped in a fucking bow."
Julio studied him for an intense and unnerving moment. His eye twitched, but his hands relaxed. "I want him. Now."
"I'm working on it, Julio, but Romero didn't call me until after he sent Mando on the run. The guy is in the wind."
"So put your spy on it!"
"He is. Kostya will find him, but it won't be easy. It might take some time." He hesitated. "Have you talked with Romero?"
"This morning."
"Good." Nikolai had all but ordered his father-in-law to open a channel of communication with Julio. He wanted them to work this out but had feared he would be the one forced to step in and make it right.
"Not good," Julio retorted. The man's fists tightened again. "He offered me money. Can you believe that shit? He asked me what my son's life was worth."
Nikolai's stomach revolted at the sheer audacity of it. He shouldn't have been surprised. Romero had abandoned Vivian in a home with an armed man to save himself. If he wouldn't go back to save his own flesh and blood, he sure as hell wasn't going to be motivated by fatherly love to do the right thing for Julio.
"Do you know what I asked him?"
; "No."
"How much is Vivian's life worth to him?"
The words registered slowly, and Nikolai turned his head to stare at Julio. An icy cold spilled through his veins and settled in the pit of his stomach. In that moment, his ability to think and reason like a human being vanished. He was reduced to his most primal state. He felt like a lion preparing to defend his mate and their cubs. Protect. Kill. Protect.
Very calmly and with a voice that sounded unnaturally relaxed, Nikolai stated the facts. "You're under a great deal of stress, and you're still grieving for your son. I'm going to let this go today."
In a flash of movement that startled Julio, Nikolai clamped his hand around the man's throat and shoved his temple against the window. His head whacked the glass with a loud thump and his skin squeaked as he tried to fight free. Nikolai grasped the man's hand, drawing back his thumb into a stress position, and held him there, weak and trapped.
Hissing like a viper, he warned, "But if you ever make the slightest hint of a threat against my Vivian, I'll kill you." He squeezed his fingers around Julio's throat. "I'll fucking kill you, and I'll take my time doing it. Kostya will be mopping up the scene for weeks after I'm finished."
His warning given, Nikolai held his hand on Julio's throat a moment longer, pressing his fingertips into the other man's flesh to be sure there would be bruises. He wanted Julio to look in the mirror every morning for the next week and remember what had happened here. This wasn't an empty threat. Nikolai would end any man who tried to hurt his wife and his baby.
Letting go, he reached for the door handle and exited the SUV. Julio coughed and cleared his throat. Before he shut the door, Julio said, "One hundred thousand, Nikolai. That's all she's worth to him."
Gritting his teeth, Nikolai slammed the door and strode to his vehicle. Kostya hurried to catch up, and Danny's brow furrowed with concern as he quickly opened the rear door so Nikolai could get into his vehicle. Kostya dropped into the driver's seat and eyed him in the rearview mirror. Smartly, he said nothing while Nikolai tried to regain control of his raging temper.
He didn't know who he wanted to hit first—Julio or Romero. Julio had crossed the line by threatening Vivian. It wasn't her father who had killed his boy. It was Mando Fernandez. Julio had no business whatsoever dragging her into this mess. She was innocent in this.
And mine. She's mine, and he's fucking crazy if he thinks he can even joke about putting a hit on her. The disrespect was outrageous. Fucking outrageous.
"One hundred thousand dollars," he grumbled while reaching for his seat belt.
"Boss?" Kostya twisted in his seat. "Do we need to hit up the bank?"
Kostya didn't mean a normal bank branch. He meant one of the locations where they stowed hard currency.
"No." He sat back and wiped his face with his hands. "Julio threatened Romero over this bullshit by asking him how much Vivian's life was worth to him."
Kostya sucked in a shocked breath. "And?"
"And what do you think happened?"
"Well I heard him talking so at least you left him alive," Kostya dryly replied. "I didn't bring my black bag of tricks."
The dark humor did little to ease Nikolai's anger. "Romero put a price of one hundred thousand on Vivian. On his daughter. On my wife."
Kostya wisely didn't speak.
"She took the fall for him. She believed in him. She loved him like all little girls love their fathers—and he abandoned her. He left her there to die. He left her there for me to kill. He left her behind to fend for herself while he went inside and did his ten year stretch. And what's she worth to him? A handful of stacks." His jaw clenched so tightly it started to hurt. He thought of sweet Vivian, always optimistic and kind, always believing the best in everyone, and wondered how the hell she had been saddled with such a shit for a father.
"But she's precious to you, boss." Kostya spoke the words in a tone that was meant to calm him. "She's precious to you, and she knows that. She knows that you value her above all things. She knows that you would do anything for her."
The reminder eased the fury inside him. "We need to get out in front of this. Julio is a ticking time bomb. He's going to blow. Romero will yank and yank on that chain, and Julio is going to lose it. He can't touch Mando because the man has no wife or family so he'll go after Romero."
"He's got a stripper."
"What?"
"A stripper from Sugar's," Kostya explained. "Her name is Tawny. She didn't come in to work the last few nights. She's gone on the run with Mando, but she has family in the area. I'll shake them down and see if she's made contact with them."
"Do it—but keep it quiet, yes? And put out some feelers on hitmen. Julio won't use one of the squads on the cartel payroll. He'll hire this out. He'll go freelance with a sicario or maybe even one of the Professionals."
Kostya inhaled a long breath as he considered the possibilities. "There's the Ghost or the Liquidator. Either way, it's not good."
"We can contact the Liquidator. He's got standards and a code. You know his rules."
"Yes." Kostya had a professional relationship with the man everyone knew as the Liquidator. He had three younger brothers who also worked in that rather peculiar line of business—the Collector, the Fence and the Cleaner. They were ungodly expensive but they did quality work. "If someone tries to buy a contract on Vivian, they'll know about it. They'll turn it down, but they'll know."
"No, I want them to buy it. I want them to buy it and come to me. I'll triple the fee and pay them for the identity. Fuck it. Offer them whatever they want. Let them name the price. Triple, quadruple, quintuple—it makes no difference to me. I'll pay it."
"All right, boss. I'll get on it." Kostya put the car in drive and eased on the gas. "So much for a quiet year, huh?"
Nikolai exhaled roughly. "It was too good to last."
"Yes." They drove in silence for a few minutes. "Where to next, boss?"
"The meetup with Romero," he said, glancing at his watch. They were running late. Although Nikolai valued punctuality, he didn't even blink an eye at the thought of making Romero wait. For a moment, he considered filling the three hour drive with a phone call to Vivian, but he didn't want to wake her if she was still sleeping.
And what would he tell her? Your father's best friend killed a cartel kid and now he's on the run so the cartel and the MC are probably going to slaughter each other in the streets?
Jesus. Nikolai scrubbed his face again and wished he hadn't left his coffee on the table. Gazing out the darkly tinted window, he tried to play the various angles. He couldn’t find a single way to end this without bloodshed.
For a moment, he actually toyed with the idea of calling Detective Eric Santos. He and Vivian's cousin had never seen eye to eye but the detective was a stand-up guy who would do the right thing. His contacts were almost as good as Kostya's. He could find Mando, snatch him up on an outstanding warrant and sweat him in a gen pop holding cell to force him to talk.
Once he was on the inside, Mando would have to fold to protect his club. The district attorneys and Feds would be tripping over themselves to cut a deal and get any information they could. Mando was too loyal to the MC—a real ride or die man—to flip on his boys, but he might spill the secrets he knew about the cartel. If that happened, the cartel would find a way to shut him up on the inside. Either way, he would be off the streets and no longer one of Nikolai's problems.
It was the cleanest way to fix the situation—but Nikolai's men would see it as the ultimate betrayal. There was still some grumbling over the way a Fed informant Besian basically owned had been used to clear out the Night Wolves once and for all. If Nikolai went to Eric, it would cast a long fucking shadow. Every step he made would be questioned. Suspicion would dog him. He needed his men to believe in and trust him implicitly and without question. He couldn't have dissension in the ranks.
So what to do? For once, he honestly didn't know. He couldn't see the answer. I'm losing my edge.
Still plagued by questions, he barely registered the minutes and miles ticking by. Too soon, their vehicle was pulling into the agreed meeting spot. The SUV sat still for less than a minute before the passenger side door opened and Romero slid inside. Kostya exited slowly and quietly to take up a guard position outside.
Romero had come incognito—jeans, Mexican football jersey, sneakers and a baseball cap pulled low. He had started to grow out a beard. Somehow it made him look even harder and rougher. There were streaks of silver in the dark, coarse hair. His age was finally catching up to him.
Whipping off the hat, Romero scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "Fuck, what a mess."
Nikolai twisted in his seat to face his father-in-law. "You offered him money?"
Romero arched an eyebrow. "Yes. And?"
Taken aback by the familiar facial movement, Nikolai accepted that no matter how much he wished he could pretend that Vivian had nothing in common with her old man she was still his daughter. "And? Are you seriously going to fucking sit there and act as if you didn't just insult Julio? A man who lost his only son?"
"It was an accident."
"Bullshit." Nikolai slashed his hand through the air. "I read the police report. His light was red. He ran it and clipped that kid. Instead of staying behind to help the kid, Mando left him in the street to die. A little boy!"
"He was sixteen."
"And Vee was eleven when you left her behind," Nikolai angrily retorted.
"Yes, she was eleven when you shot and nearly killed her." Romero dared him to find a comeback. "How is my baby girl? I hear she's settling in quite nicely as your queen. Apparently she made quite an impression at the fight."
A vision of Vivian in black and gold at the warehouse where he hosted the bare-knuckle tournaments taunted him. God, she had been breathtakingly beautiful. He had been torn between wanting to scold her for doing something so risky and wanting to sweep her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless with arousal and blushing in submission.