“All the money leads back to the Volkov.”
“I can’t—” I press the phone closer to my ear, unable to hear Garrett over the guy screaming when Aidan suddenly slices off a finger. “Hold on.” I step out of the room, walking further down the hall until I can hear the intel Garrett’s dug up. Seeing as how the warehouse we’d found the girls in was Matteo Carroza’s, Garrett and Alex have been doing a deep dive into Matteo’s financials to try and find us some leads into who’s pulling the strings. It would seem gaining access to the Italian Consigliere’s study has opened more than a few doors.
“You’re sure about the Volkov’s involvement?” I ask Garrett.
The Russian Wolves,aka the Volkov, have been at the top of my list but I need to be sure. Oleg Volkov and his five sons are a force to be reckoned with. They practically own Russia and had been busy in their attempts to take over New York. Apparently, Boston has started looking pretty attractive as well.
“It’s them,” Garrett says, his tone certain. “Carroza’s been getting deposits from the Volkov for months now. We were able to trace it through a network of off-shore Volkov shell corporations created to clean the cash. He’s moving girls, weapons, and product for them.
“Volkov’s men were the ones who went after Kostalov a couple of weeks back. It makes sense they would be the ones running the pipeline from Eastern Europe.” The Volkov are well known to grease the hands of officials and politicians if it benefits their agenda. “If Matteo was getting paid directly from the Volkov, there’s a good chance DeLuca doesn’t know.”
My jaw tightens. I can’t stand the Italian Capo, but disloyalty pisses me the fuck off. Betrayal… is a choice. Betrayal… can not be forgiven. It’s a knife in the back of someone you’ve sworn to protect. Disloyalty is like a cancer, a rot that will fester and spread if ignored. It has to be cut out clean, no matter how deep you have to dig or how many times you have to cut.
Garrett and Alex have dug up some names of the Volkov involved and more locations to check out in the city.
The screaming down the hall intensifies and I have to hold my hand up to my ear to hear the rest. I frown. The network is bigger than I’d thought.
“When did the payments to Carroza start?” I ask, remembering that he said it was a few months ago.
“Uhm—let me check.” I hear typing and few clicks and then, “Six months ago.” My jaw tightens.
“Okay, get the rest of what you need and then wipe it.”
I don’t hear Garrett’s response because it’s then I realize just howquietthe basement has become. Slowly, I walk back down the hall.
“What the fuck?” I hiss, rounding the corner and staring at Carroza’s lifeless body. He’s dead, there’s no doubt about it. “I stepped away for like three minutes!”
Aidan’s standing off to the side, a knife still in his hand. He’s drenched in the man’s blood, staring down at his handiwork, a wild and shadowed look in his eyes.
“I told you not to kill him.” I hang up the phone and take in the scene before me. There’s blood everywhere. So much so that there’s a pool of it at Aidan’s feet, too much for the drain in the concrete floor to keep up with.
“You’ll get over it.” Aidan’s voice is low, and there’s a dark edge to it that keeps me from pushing him. Letting out a breath, he pockets the knife, dropping off the blowtorch I hadn’t seen in his other hand on the metal table of instruments by the door before trying to shoulder past me.
“Did you at least get a name?” I ask before he’s fully out of the room.
“Giovanni Moretti,” he replies without stopping and I let him slip by me, disappearing down the hall. Leaving his mess for someone else to clean up.
So the Italians and the Russians are working together on this. Suddenly, the arranged marriage between Carroza and the Russian Pakhan’s daughter makes a lot more sense.
Staring down at the dead body of the Italian Consigliere, it gives me pleasure to have disrupted their best laid plans, though killing the Italian’s second-in-command won’t be without its consequences.
And neither is the fact that Aidan not onlykilledMatteo, but he’s stolen hisbridetoo.
Aurora Kostalova, the Russian Angel, is currently holed up in our family’s loft. Aidan’s officially laid claim to her.
“Fucking Russians,” I curse under my breath, thinking over the shitstorm we’ve found ourselves in and what we’ll need to do to survive it. I slide my phone out of my pocket to make some calls and set a few plans in motion.
One of those plans includes setting up a meeting withGiovanni Moretti.
We need to find out how far this goes. A ring this big has help. Carroza’s warehouse, the one I’d found Briar in last week, was on the south side.In Irish territory.
That was bold. Even for the Italians.
Our father’s murder, the arranged marriage between the Russians and the Italians, the trafficking ring, and the sudden appearance of the Volkov… Somehow, it’s all connected. I don’t believe in coincidences, not in my line of work, and all of them seemed to be gunning for the Irish.
But the question was why?
Our father had prepared us well; even with the Irish patriarch Declan O’Rourke gone, the Irish remained strong. In fact, his death had drawn both of my brothers, Aidan and Liam, back into the fold, which arguably made us even stronger. Picking a fight with us now was a suicide mission. The Irish are out for blood.
