Asking them to kiss and makeup wasn’t going to happen. They weren’t children, despite their behavior. They were dangerous men, men with power and money, who, in all reality, could easily kill him right where he stood.
But they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t for the same reason guards wouldn’t kill their king, or soldiers their commanding leader—retaliation. There was an order in the hierarchy and those who did not abide by the laws were made examples of in a gruesome and violent manner that only a few had ever tested. The Syndicate was a fierce organization that would come down unforgiving and mercilessly on anyone who attacks one of its own. It was a dysfunctional family that bickered, but would band together when threatened.
Dimitri thought of Elena and wondered if she was even in the city anymore. It was unlikely, but that wouldn’t matter. Her world had become a fishbowl. It was only a matter of time before someone caught her.
“Yesterday,” he continued, gentler now, “we started discussing the strengths of our boundaries, the security on our streets. We were attacked and that cannot go unpunished. We set it straight here and now what will happen to those who come into our turf and try to take what is ours.” He paused, his side giving a twinge. “I want names of those responsible for the lives lost.”
One hand went up, immediate and without flinching. Wheels squeaked as a seat was shoved back and a boy rose.
A boy.
Barely twenty. He couldn’t have even been shaving yet. But he stood before Dimitri with a firm, unyielding expression, his brown eyes unflinching against a round face and a set jaw.
“It was me, sir,” he said shortly. “I was there. I gave fire.”
Dimitri hadn’t honestly expected a forthright admission. It took him a second to school his features.
“Walk us through it,” he told him. “Starting with your name.”
Dimitri had done his homework before setting his sights on the territory he would claim. He knew the name of the clan leaders, their preferred crimes, their seconds, and their locations. He knew their house names, its insignias, the colors. But he was still working out their crews.
“Rusty,” the boy said. “Vipers.”
Dimitri slanted a glance at the rigid, stone faced man on the boy’s left. The resemblance was striking, too close not to be the boy’s father.
“What happened?” Dimitri made his way back to his seat, fairly certain he’d pulled a stitching.
“Me and my boys were out in the market,” Rusty began, clear, confident, a boy prepared to lay it all out and accept his punishment. Dimitri could respect that. “My mom sent me out to get green onions for supper. We get there and there’s these busters hassling Old Mama Marie. We roll up—” His father elbowed him. Rusty faltered, cleared his throat and tried again. “We go up to them and we tell them this our turf and they needed to bounce … leave,” he corrected.
Dimitri almost found himself grinning. “You can just tell the story. I understand the lingo.”
The boy looked relieved. His shoulders sagged a fraction, but he plowed on.
“Yes sir.” He straightened. “They retaliated, got up in me and my crew’s face, saying we ain’t got no leader and it’s free man’s land. They disrespected Old Mama Marie, knocking over her things and stepping on them. We dealed.”
“You fought,” Dimitri clarified.
Rusty nodded. “Yeah, but they pulled first. We were only going to knock them around a bit, teach’em respect, you know? Things got out of hand from there.”
“Who’s Mama Marie?”
“Old Mama Marie … sir,” Rusty added quickly. “She gets testy if you don’t say it right, and she owns the grocery store in the market.”
Dimitri made a mental note to see this Old Mama Marie and get an outsider’s take on things.
“Do you know who the other crew was?”
Rusty nodded. “Chan Lee’s crew, the Scorpions. Them and their busters run out under the east side bridge.”
Chan Lee. The name made a resounding clang striking Dimitri’s memory. What were the odds? He wondered to himself. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the same guy who tried to trap The Devil was also trying to move into Dimitri’s territory.
“Are they affiliated with the east?”
Rusty shook his head. “They’re nobody. Busters, sir. Fake wannabes trying to be gangsta. Never even heard of them until they started tagging scorpions up and down the west side. Started a lot of bad shit before Tyrone, leader of the Horns, chased them out.”
“And now they’re on our turf,” Dimitri mused, sitting back gingerly. “I think someone needs a sit down with this Chan Lee. Find him and bring him to me.”
The father inclined his head.
“Sir,” Rusty spoke up. “I don’t mean no disrespect, but we were only trying to protect our people. The people who got hit, the blood on our streets … they were ours. Our community is feeling their loss and that’s on us as much as on the busters, but my crew was only following my lead. I take responsibility for what happened, so I only ask that you spare them.”
Dimitri studied him closely, admiring him for his tenacity and grit.
“We’ll discuss it after the meeting,” he said, and watched the color leave the boy’s face.
His throat muscle flexed rapidly like whatever was lodged in there refused to go down, but he squared his shoulders and gave a firm nod.
“Yes sir.” He dropped down into his chair and stared hard at the table.
“Next order of business,” Dimitri began, turning to the rest of the table. “You all should have been informed by now that the Syndicate is on a manhunt for Elena and Ivan Tasarov. They are wanted for high treason against the order. Anyone harboring her, assisting her in anyway, will be prosecuted with her when she’s found. If anyone here or anyone in your crew knows her whereabouts, step up and lay it out now. Otherwise, inform your districts that she is to be found and brought in alive. There is an award, a hundred grand to the clan who finds her first.”
A low murmur rose over the room, a chatter of confusion and excitement. Dimitri didn’t stop it. There was no reward, but he would offer it, himself, from his own pocket if it meant ending Ava’s suffering. He would give a million if necessary. Whatever it took to take Elena out of Ava’s life for good.
A soft knock interrupted the commotion. The chatter died instantly as the knob turned and Penny poked her head inside. Her inexplicable appearance prickled Dimitri with annoyance. He’d told her to stay in the other room with the men he’d hired as protection. He’d told her to keep away on the off chance things had gone south like they had the day before. She’d escaped that disaster purely on luck by not being in the room when the fight had started. He hadn’t wanted to risk her getting hurt if another one broke out. Yet, there she was, smiling sheepishly at the room like it was perfectly normal.
“Pardon the interruption.” She nudged her glasses higher up on her nose with the tip of one finger. “The snacks you’ve requested has arrived. Would it be all right if I showed them in?”
He hadn’t ordered snacks. The very idea had his head cocking to the side, trying to recall when this supposed conversation took place. This was a gathering of criminals. Canapés weren’t exactly common.
“Sir?”
Realizing there was no way to turn it down now, he motioned her to continue.
There were no pigs in blankets or tiny cheese and cracker platters, thank God. It was sandwiches and chips and trays of sodas and coffee. The caterers marched in, single file, and began organizing the table, laying out plastic plates and cutlery, asking gun lords and drug cartels if they wanted coffee or Coke. The whole scene was almost laughable.
While the others were busy helping themselves, Dimitri rose and joined Penny by the open doors.
“Snacks?”
She shrugged. “I thought it might deter you from getting stabbed again, sir.”
He remembered her face clearly when it had happened. She had been firm, but pale beneath her feeble at
tempts not to cry. It had been sweet, considering. She had stayed with him while he’d been stitched up by one of the men. Hell if he remembered which. Then he’d made her swear never to tell Ava.
“She can’t know,” he told her. “She worries enough.”
Penny’s lips had been pinched so tightly together, they’d becoming a white slash despite the pink gloss. Her chin had wobbled once, but it had been stiffened and she gave a shaky nod.
“I thought I told you to stay away from here,” he told her, not unkindly.
She nodded slowly. “Yes sir, but seeing as how I really need this job, I’m adding your survival to my list of top priorities.”
With that, she walked out, leaving Dimitri shaking his head and smothering a grin.
“Sir?” Rusty approached him, hesitant, but determined.
Dimitri turned to him. “Yes, Rusty?”
Rusty cleared his throat. He glanced back over his shoulder to where his dad was in deep discussion with one of the other men. Then he focused his attention back on Dimitri.
“I’d like to discuss your decision, sir. If … if you have time.”
Dimitri considered telling the kid to go back and enjoy the spread. There certainly wasn’t any rush for a decision, especially since Dimitri had no decision to make. But he was so determined, so fixed in his resolve that Dimitri relented.
He motioned Rusty to follow him out into the hall. He didn’t miss how he hesitated before following. They moved away from the door and stopped once they couldn’t be overheard.
“How old are you, Rusty?”
The boy shifted. He tugged on the loops of his dark jeans, smoothed the hem of his t-shirt over the waistband, elevated his weight from one foot to the other. Dimitri had never seen anyone so antsy.
“Eighteen, sir.”
Christ. Sir. He would never get used to that.
“And you have your own crew?”
He folded his arms, thought better of it, let his arms drop down to his sides. “Yes sir, since I was fifteen.”
Dimitri had never cared for gangs and their pack mentality. He’d always preferred to be alone. But, occasionally, they came in handy.
“Rusty, I’d like to employ you as my eyes and ears, if you’re up for the job.”
Rusty immediately ceased his fidgeting. He blinked dark eyes and stared a moment.
“Sir?”
Dimitri was as surprised as the kid by his own decision, but the more he thought about it, the better it sounded.
“You’re a smart kid,” he said. “I can use that.”
Something like hope sparked before it darkened into suspicion.
“I ain’t no rat,” Rusty said.
Dimitri shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I need someone to help me watch the streets, keep an eye out on those who can’t protect themselves, help me keep things … safe. I need someone to inform me if something is going on that shouldn’t be. In return, we’ll overlook what happened.”
He offered Rusty his hand.
Rusty eyed it a second, still wary. “I don’t have to do any special favors?”
Dimitri lowered his hand. “Special favors?”
Color rose in the boy’s cheeks. “Yeah, anything weird.”
“Uh…”
“My cousin Victor got caught stealing from this drug cartel and instead of chopping his hands off, Victor had to … do things for him. You know?”
Dimitri didn’t.
“Things,” Rusty stressed, eyes big. “Like be his bitch.”
“Oh!” Dimitri actually jerked back like the very idea physically struck him. “No! God!”
Rusty exhaled. “‘k, ‘cause I don’t do like that.”
“Me neither,” Dimitri muttered. “Just a watch out, that’s it.”
Rusty nodded. “‘aight.” He thrust out a hand. “You got a deal.”
Dimitri had just clapped his palm to the boy’s when his phone buzzed. He fished into his pocket and tugged it free.
“We keep this between us, yeah?” he told the boy.
Rusty scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
Dimitri motioned him to head back before putting the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Tasarov? It’s Frank.”
A frown stole over Dimitri’s features. “Ava okay?”
There was a long enough pause for Dimitri to hear the low whistle of traffic, the buzz of voices.
“Sir, there was an incident—”
“Where are you?”
He was already stalking to the elevator as Frank rattled off the address to Ava’s apartment. He ended the call and tried for a second to remember which direction the elevators were located. The damn floor was a maze of doors and empty rooms. It took some real deliberating to retrace his steps. He found them and stabbed the down button.
“Sir?” Penny appeared around the corner, cheeks flushed like she’d ran after him.
“Meeting’s over,” he told her, poking at the arrow button repeatedly like it might make the metal box arrive faster. “Call Saeed and tell him to meet me downstairs. Stay with Phil and the others until everyone’s gone and then find me at Ava’s apartment.”
She didn’t ask him where Ava’s apartment was. Either she already knew or she had her way of finding out. He was beginning to figure out that she was a whole lot more resourceful than Theresa had given her credit for. She had ways of finding things out and making things happen that was deeply impressive, and a bit frightening; if she ever wanted to take over, she probably could.
Saeed was waiting downstairs for him, standing in a no parking zone next to a giant, black SUV. He scrambled to yank open the backdoor as Dimitri sprinted down the stone steps of his new building. He climbed in and had the door shut behind him, trapping him in with the scent of new, clean leather. Saeed got in behind the wheel and started driving without being told where he was going. Dimitri guessed Penny had told him.
“I need to be there now, Saeed.”
The kid gave a jerk of his head. “You got it, boss.”
In the fifteen minutes it took to cross from one territory into the next, a trip that would have normally taken forty-five minutes, Dimitri came to realize the kid could drive anything. He had wondered if the size of the car would matter in maneuvering the city streets, but apparently not.
They only made it part of the way. The moment they got close enough, Dimitri saw it: smoke. Columns of it rose into the blue heavens, a black blossom staining the rooftops. Horns and sirens whistled from all directions. Traffic stood bumper to bumper for miles, trapping him almost eight blocks from where he needed to be.
“Fuck…” Saeed stressed, peering over and around, trying to find an opening. “Hold on, boss.”
Dimitri was given no time to brace himself when Saeed stomped on the gas, twisted the wheel and propelled the SUV off the road and onto the sidewalk. He barely had time to curse, before they swerved around a bus shelter and rocketed down a flight of stairs to a platform that leveled out and turned into an underground garage. His foot never lifted off the gas as he punched forward, turning and twisting the wheel to avoid concrete pillars, other cars, and people.
At the barricade, a man started climbing out of the booth, prepared to stamp their tickets, but Saeed crashed through the wooden beam, sending splinters in all directions and the man leaping back into the booth. He veered left and kept going.
“Jesus!” Dimitri exclaimed.
“Sorry, boss!” was all the response he got as their car zigzagged through oncoming traffic.
Other cars shrieked as they tried to get out of the way. Saeed never slowed, never so much as batted an eye at the dangerous game of chicken they seemed to be having.
At the intersection, he cut an entire fleet of cars off, jumped two wheels on the curb, twisted around the car in front of them and shot forward.
They arrived at Ava’s apartment with a squeal of tires and a punch of rubber that polluted the air. Dimitri jerked forward with th
e impact. He barely caught himself on the seat in front of him.
“I don’t know whether to give you a raise or kick your ass,” he mumbled.
Saeed grinned at him through the rearview mirror. “If you’re offering, a raise would be nice.”
Dimitri only shook his head as he climbed out.
The streets were overrun with parked firetrucks, police cars, and news vans. The air stank of gasoline, burnt flesh, plastic, and something he couldn’t put his finger on. Sulfur maybe. It permeated the late afternoon with an angry vengeance that seemed perfectly in place amongst the chaos.
The building and the three matching ones standing like a trio of sentinel had been evacuated and the once manicured front garden was crowded by frantic onlookers being forced back by police and yellow tape. No one seemed to notice him as Dimitri plowed his way through, gaze sweeping over faces for Ava’s. He marched over smoldering pieces of furniture and warped metal. His shoes crunched on shards of glass that was barely audible over the rising sobs. He called her name and his voice was snatched up by the gush of water and the shouts of the rescue crew barking orders.
In his ears, his heart thumped in tempo to the pound of water beating against what was left of Ava’s apartment. Now it was a jagged, black hole against a sheen of glass. His insides lurched, a sickening sensation of plummeting off a cliff without a harness into tremulous waters. He could almost feel himself striking the serrated teeth of the waves below.
He began to reach for his pocket, for his phone, not exactly sure Frank would be able to hear it over the chaos, but needing to try. Dimitri’s clammy fingers circled plastic. A frantic man slammed into him as he was pulling the phone out. The phone slipped from Dimitri’s grasp and disappeared back into his pocket. He muttered a curse and glanced back, but the man was already disappearing into the crowd, shouting for Irena. Whoever that was. He started turning in the direction he was headed when he spotted it, the row of ambulances parked along the road. Some were closing their doors, preparing to leave. Others were stationary, white and blue boxes with flashing red and blue lights.
He didn’t find Ava.
He found Frank.
The man was a full two feet taller than everyone else and stood in the open mouth of the second to last vehicle. His back was to Dimitri, but there was no mistaking him.
The Devil's Beauty (Crime Lord Interconnected Standalone Book 2) Page 38