by Roxie Rivera
“Well, maybe you’ll get lucky and someone will do you a favor.” Kostya made a slashing motion at his throat as his phone buzzed in his pocket. “Lalo has enemies everywhere.” He retrieved his phone and glanced at the screen. “Speaking of favors…”
“What now?” Nikolai asked tiredly, probably expecting another heavy cost in either coin or men.
“Besian,” he said, tapping the screen and opening the message. It was coded but easily decipherable. “No leads yet. They’ll keep looking.”
“What did you tell him to do with Marco if he finds him?”
“Take him off the streets. Get the girl back to her mother.”
“I want to talk to her first. This can’t happen again.” Nikolai drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “What about Diego?”
“Diego?” Why would Nikolai want the leader of the Hermanos? They were the street level enforcement for the cartel, but there was bad blood between Lalo and Diego. Bad blood that went back at least ten years, back to when they were kids in high school, back when Gabe, Diego’s older brother, started a feud. “Lalo will go ballistic if he finds out we went behind his back to get Marco, especially if he finds out we’re using his own people.”
“They aren’t his people,” Nikolai muttered. “The ties between the Hermanos and the cartel are thin and stretched to the breaking point. Lalo has fucked over Diego and his boys too many times. He doesn’t understand loyalty. He’s only looking at the next back he can step on to climb higher.”
Despite his concern for the way this would turn out, he nevertheless asked, “Do you want me to talk to Diego?”
“No, I’ll talk to him.” Nikolai rolled down the window and whistled to get the attention of Ilya’s crew. One of them jogged over to get the order for a meetup. “Tell the king of Coronado Street that I want to meet.” He glanced at his watch. “Noon. Catholic Cemetery.”
The soldier nodded and ran off to make the necessary calls. Diego would be wise not to miss the meeting set for half an hour from now, even if he had to run every red light in town.
As they drove to the cemetery, Kostya thought about the kind of deal Nikolai would probably offer Diego. It would be something that set the wheels in motion for another regime change that would benefit Nikolai’s long-term interests. Lalo had always been a placeholder in their minds. They needed a stronger partner, someone they could trust and someone who was trusted by the men who served him.
They arrived at the meeting spot early, giving Kostya plenty of time to scout the area. He sent the usual guard vehicles to specific spots on the perimeter and then got back in the car to wait. Keeping quiet, he ran through his own mental list of tasks and problems he still needed to tackle before the end of the day.
“It’s the Wives and Widows Tour tomorrow,” Nikolai said, breaking into his thoughts.
He cracked a smile at the name they had given the monthly circuit of visits that had to be made. Each crew paid a tax to cover the family support payments for their brothers-in-arms serving time, or the widows and families left behind when a soldier died—naturally or in the line of duty, so to speak. Nikolai also extended help to families who had worked with the family or paid a protection tax for their businesses. It was all about rewarding loyalty.
A few weeks after they had married, Vivian had taken over a duty that Nikolai had never quite felt comfortable doing. Frankly, she was better at this kind of thing than her husband. He was cold and scared the shit out of people, especially the wives and girlfriends of soldiers who were locked-up in the pen. Those women were never quite sure where they stood or just how safe they or their men were.
Until Vivian came along.
She genuinely cared about people and their problems. She made them feel as if they mattered and were important to her. She listened, and she was compassionate and kind. She was also smart enough to understand the rules of the game. Vivian seemed to understand that keeping those other families happy protected her family.
The men doing time for misdeeds they’d committed under Nikolai’s order needed to know their wives and families were being looked after properly. Men who thought their wives and kids had been forgotten were a snitch risk. They were vulnerable and weak and easily manipulated into talking to the wrong people about the wrong things.
Cash envelopes to pay for groceries and rent and medical bills were delivered the first week of every month to the families they had left behind. It used to be a straightforward drop-off situation, but Vivian had changed all of that. She always brought something nice to the family she was visiting, usually a box of pastries and desserts from Samovar, and then stayed for a while to chat. She made sure that the wives and girlfriends had help with daycare bills, school clothes and extracurricular fees and tried to find them work if they needed or wanted it.
Nikolai hadn’t been pleased at first by what he saw as her meddling, especially when it cost him more money out of his pocket, but Vivian had neatly put him in his place by reminding him that it was cheaper to pay for field trip fees and daycare for a few families than it would be for the lawyers if a RICO case was ever built.
Remembering that tense conversation he’d overheard still brought a smile to his face. More and more, Vivian pushed back against Nikolai. He suspected that deep down inside the boss liked it when his wife refused to back down.
A black Chevy truck rolled into the cemetery. It came alone because Diego wasn’t flashy like Lalo. Diego had more men under his control and was personally responsible for holding all of the territory Lalo claimed as his own, but he didn’t flaunt it. There had been some trouble a few years earlier with Benny’s kid brother, but Diego had learned his lesson and got his shit straight after that. Considering all he had accomplished at such a young age, he had earned the right to be cocky, but he was quiet, a real old school throwback and street king.
Diego and his younger brother, Nate, got out of the truck. Kostya sized up the youngest Reyes boy. The kid was a natural born fighter. If the stories Fox had told him were to be believed, Nate had been brawling since they were in kindergarten together, often taking on boys three or four years older than him. He had lost most of those early fights, but they had ignited a fire inside him that couldn’t be doused. Now he was one of the best fighters on the underground circuit and was poised to kill the long winning streak of Nikolai’s fighters.
“We’re fucked if that kid keeps getting better in the ring,” Nikolai grumbled and reached for the door handle.
“If that kid wasn’t Diego’s little brother, I’d take care of him,” he remarked. “Just the knee. Nothing too damaging.”
Nikolai laughed as got out of the car. “This won’t take long.”
Kostya slipped out of his seat and glanced around the cemetery, his honed gaze looking for any signs of trouble. Because Diego kept the streets of his neighborhood secure and quiet, Kostya wasn’t that worried about this meeting. Safe in this territory, there was only the slightest chance that something might kick off.
While Diego and Nikolai took a walk along a line of graves, Nate Reyes wandered over and came to stand next to Kostya. He leaned back against the car and nonchalantly reached into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve his wallet. “My brother wanted me to give you this.”
Kostya glanced at the card Nate had pulled out of his wallet. “Let me guess. Diego got you a fight manager?”
Nate laughed. “Wrong brother, man.”
Kostya didn’t try to hide his surprise at the mention of the eldest Reyes brother. Gabe hadn’t been seen this side of the border in over ten years. There was a price on his head and a warrant for his arrest waiting for him if he ever tried to cross back into the US. As far as Kostya knew, Gabe had been making quite a good living—seven figures a year—doing wetwork for high-paying anonymous contracts.
Wondering what Gabe wanted, he took the card offered to him and turned it over to see the email address scrawled on the back. It was an address using an infamous and extremely secure darknet provider. �
�What am I supposed to do with this?”
Nate shrugged. “I don’t ask him questions.”
Certain whatever the eldest Reyes brother had to tell him was dangerous yet important, he slipped the card into his wallet. His gaze moved back to Nikolai and Diego who were already walking back toward the vehicles. As the two men drew closer, he noted the stiffness in Nikolai’s jaw and the harsh steps that brought him back to the car. Interest piqued, he waited until they were safely in their car and Diego and Nate were driving away to ask, “Well?”
“We need to find Marco. I don’t want the police getting to that bastard first.”
Kostya kept his foot on the brake. “You think he’s going to talk?”
Nikolai twisted his wedding band around his finger. “Diego thinks he’s been talking for a while now.”
Stomach churning, he asked, “He’s a fucking informant?”
“Diego has suspected it for a while, especially after last week.”
“That thing in Longview? With the undercover cop?” he interjected. “The Hermanos boys are still in jail, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“What does that have to do with Marco?”
“Marco set up that drop.”
He let that sink in for a moment. “It’s possible that possible Marco didn’t know he was setting them up with a cop.” Nikolai glared at him. “What?” he shot back defensively. “It happens.”
“In movies, maybe. This is real fucking life, Kostya.”
“What did Diego do about it? Has he talked to Lalo?”
“He tried. Lalo wouldn’t listen to him.”
“He could be in on it with Marco.”
Nikolai blanched. “We are fucked if that’s true. For all we know, this is about building a RICO case. If we’ve been exposed…? If someone has talked…?”
“If someone has talked, they won’t have a tongue much longer,” Kostya promised. Lifting his foot from the brake, he drove away from the cemetery. His mind raced as he thought of all the ways this could hurt them. If the snitch angle checked out, Marco could have talked about all the recent power plays and hits.
There was a lot of blood on the streets. Kostya had done all he could to place strategic sandbags that would keep it from flowing back to the boss’s door. There wasn’t a Russian or an Albanian in town who would speak a word to the police. The bonds of their criminal brotherhoods were built on loyalty and honor.
But the other families?
Kostya didn’t trust a fucking one of them.
“We have to stop using all phones. Right now.” He had trained the captains and their soldiers not to use their personal phones for sensitive information. They used burners when on jobs and destroyed them immediately after use. They talked only in code or kept their messages short. All of the heavy shit was discussed face to face.
But there was always a chance someone was being careless.
He reached for his work cell and called Ilya who picked up on the second ring. “I found a better deal on our wireless contracts. Meet me at the car wash.”
“On my way.” Within in moments of ending the call, Ilya would be dialing the next captain on the list to give out the message. One by one, each captain would learn that they may have been compromised. Phones would be destroyed. Cars would be checked and rechecked and checked a third time for bugs or GPS devices. Hangouts and businesses would be cleared and checked down to the baseboards and studs. There wouldn’t be an inch of duct work or piping that wasn’t searched.
They would close ranks and stay away from the other organizations. Business transactions would temporarily halt. There would be no protection tax pickups, no gun shipments moved or sold and there would be no new deals of any kind. Nikolai always kept enough cash in reserves hidden away to float payroll and cover hush money for six months or until the all-clear was sounded.
Kostya powered off his phone and tossed it into the cup holder. “You still only use your phone for personal calls?”
“Always.”
Nikolai hated using his iPhone and only kept it because it was necessary for his legitimate businesses and personal life. There were burners at his house for late night emergencies, and even then, he only gave short messages.
Meet me.
I need to see you.
We have a problem.
“No apps? Not even the ones Vivian uses with her friends?”
Nikolai shook his head. “No.”
“We’ll need to search her phone.”
Nikolai cursed under his breath. “I’ll deal with it.”
“I’ll get the captains together and try to trace back all the interactions we’ve had with Marco.”
“There shouldn’t be many. We don’t have a piece of that business.” Nikolai tapped his nose to indicate the cocaine the cartel sold.
“Unless one of the younger boys is stepping out of line and trying to make some quick cash off a side hustle,” Kostya warned. “We might be more exposed than we know.”
“If one of our younger boys is selling coke?” Nikolai jabbed two fingers toward his neck. It wasn’t an empty threat. There were rules, and there were consequences.
As he drove, Kostya worried about the small and improbable chance there was a RICO case in the works. The cartel violence south of the border was still hot, and Lalo clearly had zero control over his men and their mouths.
“Even if Diego is wrong—and I fucking doubt it because he’s solid—the police could still use this shit with Tiffany—knocking the shit out of her and kidnapping her—as leverage to get Marco to talk. He’ll flip if they give him the chance. We have to find him.”
“I gave Diego an incentive to find Marco and bring him to you.”
“How much?”
“Enough.” It was said with a meaningful look, one that said the incentive was about more than money.
Ready to get to work, he asked, “Do you want me to take you back to Samovar?”
“Drop me at Benny’s bakery. I’ll have Danny come get me. We still need to have our talk.”
“What the fuck has the kid done now?”
“It’s that thing with the neighbors.”
“The neighbors? At his apartment?”
“That deadbeat who is deep in the red to Besian.”
“Shit,” he swore. “I thought Artyom told him to stay in his own fucking lane?”
“He did. He told him not to intervene, that the man owes what he owes and needs to pay.”
“But?”
“But there’s a girl involved.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he swore even more roughly.
“Seems there’s always a girl involved lately,” Nikolai muttered. A moment later, he added, “She’s young.”
Not missing the emphasis, he asked, “How young?’
“Seventeen? Eighteen maybe.”
Kostya decided the less he knew about that the better. Still, he felt the need to defend Artyom’s nephew. “Danny’s only a couple of years older than her. He’s a good kid. He’s always been a standup man. The crews respect him. He’s loyal. He’s smart. He’s always followed orders—until now.”
“That’s what worries me,” Nikolai admitted. “If his loyalty to that girl puts him in Besian’s crossfire, we’re going to have problems. I’ve already exhausted my stockpile of favors with Besian. The next one will be full price.”
He tried not to think about how badly Besian’s crew would fuck Danila up if they got their hands on him. Artyom would be dragged into it because of their shared blood and then what? It would be messy, bloody and costly.
“You’re sure you want me to drop you here?” He flipped on his turn signal and waited at the intersection for a chance to make his left turn. “I have time to drive you somewhere else.”
“I need to stop here.” Nikolai’s mouth slanted with a lopsided and guilty smile. “I ate all of those little Mexican wedding cookies Vee loves. She’ll banish me to the couch if she doesn’t have a new box to satisfy her late-night cravings.�
��
His gaze shifted to Nikolai’s finger sliding over his wedding band, the movement one that seemed to reassure and soothe him. Was he thinking of the way he could so easily compartmentalize his life? For most of the morning, they had been talking about getting rid of Marco and other messy parts of their business. Now he was talking about buying cookies for his pregnant wife as a sweet gesture.
For Kostya, it was another reminder of all the reasons he couldn’t pursue Holly. He had given her a month to think about things. Yesterday, he had sat outside the salon for an hour trying to convince himself to go inside and talk to her. Brave as he was, he had been afraid to hear her decision. It was humiliating to admit that even to himself, but it was the truth. He still wasn’t sure what answer he wanted to hear. Either way, he was going to complicate—or even ruin—her life.
When they pulled into the bakery parking lot, Nikolai unbuckled his seatbelt. “I’ll see you at Samovar or the warehouse.”
“I’ll chase down some leads and report back as soon as possible.”
Nikolai hesitated, his hand on the door latch but not moving. “Be careful, Kostya. If Diego is right about Marco, Lalo might panic and do something stupid to cover it up.”
“And if he does?”
Nikolai made a quick slashing gesture with his thumb. “Take care of it. I’ll clean up the fallout.”
He hoped it wouldn’t go that far. The city couldn’t stand to be destabilized again, not with Mueller moving in and trying to gain more ground. Nickel Jackson and his enterprise already felt threatened by the growth of Besian’s crew. There were daily scuffles as the soldiers on both sides fought for each street and the right to do their business there. If Lalo fell and there was no plan in place to quickly prop up another kingpin, mayhem would erupt as the Albanians and Jackson’s crews tried to rush in and fill the void. But if the word got out that Lalo had a mole in his organization? The streets would burn.
Determined to prevent either of those outcomes, he waited until Nikolai was safely inside the bakery to leave. As if on cue, Danila and Artyom arrived, both leaving their vehicles to follow the boss inside, tailing and protecting him. The soldiers from their crews stayed outside, keeping a watchful eye.