No. Dimitri wanted power more than anything else. Before I gave in to his advances, he knew that getting rid of me was the only way he was guaranteed to keep it himself. Oh my God! What if he’d had the attack deliberately fail just so I’d give in to him? I needed a shower.
Celeste asked for my location and I muttered the address before running to the bathroom, my stomach churning.
15
Dimitri
Igrew a lead foot the moment I passed through the gate to the safehouse. At this time in the morning, the overseas highway was mostly clear going across Marathon so I didn’t have to worry about being slowed down.
Pirrello’s voice had sounded tight and worried when he’d called. On an unsecured line, he’d never talk about specifics, so I didn’t know what had happened, outside it not being good news.
Even in my haste, situational awareness remained key. As I crossed Marathon Key, my eyes roamed the mirrors, searching for any other cars coming onto the highway. Not a single car turned onto the road to follow me.
A white panel van sat in the empty parking lot of a cigar shop at the far end of Marathon Key. Its side advertised a catering company, complete with working website address and phone number, though it was a fake. The protection team I’d pulled back from the safehouse at Olivia’s request waited inside, just in case I needed them.
By the time I made it to the mainland, a few other cars had joined the highway behind me. With no time to stop and smoke any tails out like I had earlier, I simply kept watch. My route to Macia’s restaurant became more circuitous, just in case, but none of the cars that had joined the highway behind me took that exit.
Well before noon, Mr. Macia still manned the bar of his bistro. Yesterday, when I’d stepped through, he’d offered a deep nod. Today, he greeted me with narrowed eyes and the most perfunctory of nods. With Pirrello’s worrying tone on the phone, the difference put me on edge.
The usual guard stood in front of the back door off the side room. He stepped aside when I neared. Already, raised voices, muffled by the door leached through it. I paused to listen, my hand inches from the knob.
“How can we trust him, he’s one of them!” yelled a voice. It sounded like the seat stealer from my first meeting.
Talking about me, obviously. It was little surprise he was behind dissension in the ranks. Maybe I should have been more forceful. But my grandmother had always said flies stick to honey better than vinegar. Fear motivated but it also helped resentment fester and grow. I’d tried to offer my new men a more measured front, let my rep do the heavy lifting. That might have been a mistake; one I’d rectify if need be.
Whatever response might have followed the seat stealer’s bellow remained unsaid. I pushed the door open. The men inside froze. Pirrello stood at the head of the table, beside my empty chair. His arm extended, finger pointing at the seat stealer. Both sported angry, blotched flushes on their weathered faces. The rest of the men sat around the table. None met my eyes as I closed the door behind me.
“Gentlemen,” I greeted them, my voice flat, emotionless. They’d be probing me for weakness, I couldn’t show a single moment of it. “I’d like to know why you called me here so early. What happened?”
Ignoring the outburst they had to suspect I’d heard, the angry expressions and accusatory fingerprinting they froze into the moment I entered added weight to my words. With my rep, it was no wonder that sweat dotted the seat stealer’s wrinkled forehead. Oh, I had the men’s attention.
“Last night’s shipment got taken, sir,” Pirrello said after he straightened and dropped his arm. “We believe it was your uncle’s Bratva that did the job.”
“Yeah,” the seat stealer’s voice stuttered. A sneer came to his face after I turned to look his way. He continued, more forceful. “Given he’s your blood, we figured it might have been an inside job.”
He was stuttering again by the end. I kept my expression flat, unmoving. Not knowing what I was thinking let the men fill in the blanks themselves. My rep gave wings to the most disturbing and disquieting their imaginations could conjure.
“Were any of our men hurt?” I asked Pirrello, ignoring the accusations. “What proof do you have that my uncle was behind the theft?”
“A few of Donnie’s men are nursing some wounds, but no casualties,” Pirrello answered, pointing to one of the men at the table. “They heard the attackers talk, they had Russian accents. With the Russian admitting to the attempt on Olivia and my daughter, it seems obvious who was behind it.”
My eyes followed Pirrello’s finger to Donnie. A thin man with a tight pinched face. He was known as Fingers, thanks to his skill in pick pocketing. One of the younger of the don’s former lieutenants, he oversaw the smuggling operation. A good thief knew how to hide in plain sight; he had told me in one of our briefings. That was why I kept him in that position.
The man didn’t take my interest as a challenge. He straightened in his chair, met my gaze. Whatever happened last night, it didn’t come from betrayal, at least on his part. With a nod, I surveyed the rest of the table as I stood to the other side of my chair at its head.
The Russian that Pirrello and his men insisted had claimed credit for the attack on Olivia had been almost incoherent by the time I’d got to question him. The only recognizable word the man had spoken had been ‘no.’ That certainly hadn’t convinced me my uncle had been behind the assassination attempt.
“I’ve said a lot of things about my uncle,” I said, cracking the tiniest of smiles. “But one thing I’ve never called him was an idiot, because he’s not one. I don’t see the benefit of him in attacking us, especially so brazenly.”
“Of course you don’t,” sniped the seat stealer, “you were in on it. That’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“I’m a patient man,” I barked, freezing the men. “If I was working with my uncle, I wouldn’t play in this penny ante shit. The don passed leadership off to me. Why would I help my uncle weaken the organization I control already? My sources within the Bratva tell me my uncle is doing his best to ignore me right now. Oh, he’s worried I might use this position to come after him, but we are a lot stronger than the Bratva, he’s not coming after us. Last night was more likely an independent operator. If they were Russians, they might be mercenaries.”
“And you expect us to take your word on that?” the seat stealer sneered. The men to either side of him at the table nodded, at least until they met my eyes.
“Yes, I do,” I replied, just above a whisper. “I gave my word to Don Castello before he passed that I would continue his work, to keep the family powerful and strong. I promised to do anything and everything I could to protect his daughter Olivia, my wife. My promise was good enough for the don. He understood that I was a man of my word. If anyone here has any evidence that I went back on my word, the floor is open.”
I held my arms out, eyes moving around the room. That gaze stayed on each man around the table until they met it, for at least a moment. No-one said a word. They had no evidence, of course, I hadn’t expected a response.
