He goes to the center of the circle the three cars create in the deserted parking lot and greets Aslanov and Chen’s drivers. Only once they’ve all greeted each other and spoken briefly do they go back to their respective cars and open doors for us.
The Russians are the least involved in mafia politics, always staying very neutral, but that won’t be an option for them today. Sasha Aslanov and his brother Grigory move in perfect unison. They’re often mistaken for twins, since they have the same white hair, blue eyes, and bulky six-three build, but Sasha is five years older.
Since he took over his family, he’s proven to be smart and reliably vicious when necessary. Sasha said his father died two years ago when he took over—he’s thirty-five now—but I have reliable information that tells me old man Mikhail actually retired and is living his best life in the Caribbean. I don’t begrudge either of them the small lie, though, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my business.
Haoran Chen and his second in command, Jiahao, are both in their sixties, and were easier to deal with in their youth according to Da. They’ve lived too long and made too much money to be swayed easily by anyone.
They’re reasonable, though, and I expect Haoran’s full cooperation tonight.
Once we’re all standing in front of each other, I get right to it. There’s no time to waste.
“I have proof now that Lucian Venuti is one of the men peddling flesh in our city.”
“How did you get it?” Chen asks, and it’s an honest question. I can see that. He’s not doubting me.
So I do what I rarely do—I give explanations for every decision I’ve made since Duffy found that warehouse earlier this year.
It takes me fifteen precious minutes of the half an hour we have before the Italians get here, and I only tell them it’s a politician backing Lucian. I explain that yes, we can takecare of Lucian any way we see fit, but the other part has to be dealt with carefully if we want to stay out of prison, which is why we need concrete proof. By the end they’re as angry as I’ve ever seen them.
“We stop dealing with them tonight. No Venuti scum will get any weapons from us.” Aslanov spits every word out like it tastes bad.
“I should hear soon from Cecilia. If she keeps up her end of the deal, you’ll have to consider her the head of the Venuti family from now on, and she’s going to demand a place in the circle,” I tell him, almost in warning, but he knows he has to toe the line while she’s proving herself.
“Lucian has put in many large orders for fake IDs in the last two years, more than before, but we thought...” Haoran trails off to look at his number two, and they both shrug at each other.
I don’t tell him how stupid that was—out of respect, yes, but mostly because business is business. But seriously? That didn’t seem suspicious to them?
“Since our plan depends on having proof, I’m going to need copies of those IDs if you can find them.” I have no idea if they keep records or destroy them.
“We’ll see what we can find,” he says, but I don’t know how much I trust him right now.
“Are we in agreement, then?” I ask so we can all go back to our cars. We need to pretend we just arrived before the Italians get here.
“Lucian dies tonight,” Sasha says, death in his tone.
“Not tonight.” Rory speaks for the first time, her sinister smile directed at Sasha. “He’ll start wishing for it soon, though.”
Sasha nods at her in approval, and when I catch Grigory looking at Rory a little too long I snap at him.
“Get your eyes off my sister if you want to keep them, Grigory.” His sneer forms instantly, but Sasha puts a hand on his chest to keep him back before he gets himself killed. To them, Rory has always been my sister, though I’m sure they know—or at least suspect—we’re not blood related. Still, Grigory should know better.
“We’re almost out of time. Let’s get back to our cars,” Sasha says wisely.
“Let’s,” I growl, then keep my gaze on Grigory until the door of their car closes behind him.
“You’re no better than an untrained animal,” Rory says when we turn back to our car. Blake stays in the circle with the other drivers.
“Shut up,” I grumble.
I know she can more than take care of herself... normally. In the circle, though, no one does shit except the heads of the families. It’s even rare for anyone else to speak. Rory’s input tonight is as far as our seconds ever go.
Inside the circle she can’t attack, not without putting all of us at risk, so what if I acted like a caveman? That little bitch couldn’t even handle a full conversation with Rory let alone whatever the fuck he was imagining, the stupid cunt.
The two identical black SUVs arrive at the same time, and that never bodes well. The Italians can pretend they don’t work together all they want, but we all know better.
If Cecilia finds any evidence at all that Rossi or Di Leo had any knowledge of Lucian’s fuckery, I’ll end them. I’d especially love to put a bullet in each of Di Leo’s knees.
“What is this about?” Francesco Ricci demands once we’re all back in the circle. At seventy, his health isn’t the best, but his son, Francesco Jr, looks well enough. He’s in his forties, I believe, but keeps his mouth shut and his eyes firmly on the wall. Another stupid cunt in my opinion, but I know I still have a few years at least before I need to deal with him directly.
