We made the announcement to our people about the change in leadership and to my surprise, it was overwhelmingly positive.
“You’ve already been head of the Syndicate since your father died,” Monroe had explained. “Everyone knows that.”
Even though Zed is relieved to give up the position to me, I’m glad he wasn’t there to hear that.
***
“It’s time to go on the offensive.”
Lachlan is lounging on the couch in my office, throwing a ball up in the air and catching it without looking. Show off.
“What are you thinking of?” I’m nervous. I don’t want him putting himself in danger, but I know my husband well enough by now to know he’d insist on leading the charge.
“We’ve identified the weakest points in the Petrov Bratva. Businesses I can hit that will cripple that feck but not really hurt him. We want to be a nuisance right now so he underestimates us.” He smiles darkly. “I’m gonna chase him from one hidey-hole to another until I’ve got the bawbag cornered.”
“Where are you getting your intel?” I watch his beautiful, restless face as he throws the ball again.
“There’s many a Bratva who dinna want this bastard in business,” he says with a grin. “He makes the same problems there that we’re dealing with here. Rules of this world are simple, baby. Keep your word. Don’t involve civilians. Don’t push the police enough that they’re forced to act. He’s makin’ problems from Moscow to St. Petersburg.”
“So, these Bratva are conspiring with you? The Petrov’s are one of the Moscow Six Families.”
“Aye, which is why I must be quick, and clever. If it’s obvious that we’re moving against him, they’re required to side with the Petrov Bratva.”
“Kind of like NATO?” I ask.
He chuckles, walking over to lean against my desk. “Aye. But only if there’s proof.”
“And since it’s you, there won’t be any proof,” I smile up at him.
“Exactly, baby.” He cups my face, leaning in to kiss me, which is exactly when my phone rings.
“Oh, damn it,” I groan. My secretary knows to route only crucial calls to me and this one is from Columbia. Juan’s visit at our wedding isn’t the only push we’ve gotten about that cursed contract. I’ve put his father off by explaining that the chaos caused by Uncle Bastard’s death put a hold on all new business deals. I know this excuse won’t satisfy him again.
“Route it to Zed,” Lachlan says. “He’ll smooth it over for now.”
“For now,” I agree bleakly.
Kissing me again, he whispers, “One murderous fucker at a time.”
***
Two weeks later…
The attacks on our holdings stop when Lachlan leaves me for parts unknown. I see the reports; one of Petrov’s factories burns to the ground, damage to his oil rig in the Black Sea is severe enough to shut it down. Lachlan’s got this slimy lunatic on the run.
I miss my husband.
That’s a phrase I never expected to say out loud, but I do. I miss the way he took over security for our syndicate. I miss how safe he makes me feel.
His men still patrol the estate, and I can’t make a trip to the bathroom without Monroe breathing down my neck, but it’s not the same. I sleep better with him here.
***
Lachlan…
“A pleasure to meet you, Maksim.”
Maksim Morozov is Pakhan of the Morozov Bratva and rightfully feared by… well, everyone. We’re meeting at his estate in St. Petersburg. He’s a tall, dark-haired man whose chilly expression is known to soften only for his wife, Ella, and his children.
