The thought almost made me smile, but the matter at hand was too consuming to be distracted from for long. “Tell me what you know.”
“You are correct in your assumption that the Italians are puppets. They are working for the Aldea cartel, and they have history with your new friends.”
“You are sure?”
“The Rebel Kings MC. You are correct that Aldea killed their previous president.”
I said nothing, digesting.
Sidorov went on. “It was difficult for me to explain why I was interested in a years-old disagreement.”
My heart stuttered at that. I’d come here with a request for information, but Sidorov had already deciphered my true purpose and what I was asking of him. “Do you need to explain yourself?”
“Not when I had you in my stable, but times have changed, Alexei. Alliances and battle lines have moved. I need to know why this matters to you before I consider what you want.”
It shouldn’t have surprised me. Pavel was an intuitivePakhan. It was him who’d taught me to read a man before I showed him my face. “The MC are my friends. I want to help them... to protect them from a situation they didn’t create.”
“Then you should not have allowed them to hijack the merchandise. Whatever agreement I can reach with Aldea, this is something that cannot go unpunished.”
“Let them punish Sambini instead. If their operation was competent, they would have known the territory the Romanians abandoned was unconquerable.”
“Nothing is unconquerable. Not even you.”
Frustration rushed through me. “Why do they want this route so much? There are others, no?”
Sidorov shrugged. “Pride, perhaps. These Rebel Kings, they are a small enterprise, but they cause trouble wherever they go, it seems.”
“They don’t go anywhere. Their territory is their home.
“Their leader is the son of the fallen president.”
“So?”
“His reputation precedes him.”
I took a slow, silent breath, biting down on the urge to kill any man that spoke Cam’s name. “He is difficult to dissuade from his principles.”
“But not impossible?”
“What are you saying?”
Sidorov propped his shoulder on the huge windowpane I stood beside. The aura of power around him made the pose seem strange, but somehow it worked. “There was an agreement in place when Cameron O’Brian Snr was deposed. Elements within the club were primed to form a council that would accommodate Aldea’s business needs. His son ambushed that when he took power.”
“Hetooknothing. Motorcycle clubs are democratic.”
“Regardless, I warned you already that this feud ran deep. Aldea believes he has lost too much to O’Brian’s boy. Even if I can persuade him to move his operation elsewhere, someone will have to pay for that.”
“Are you telling me that you can make their territory safe, but the Aldea cartel will kill Cam anyway?”
The words sounded far away.
Sidorov took my arm. “The order has been issued. It is too late to recall it. Aldea has agreed to move his operation elsewhere, but his man is already paid and on the ground, a man that will not stop until it is done.”
I knew this type of man. I’d been one once—the expensive gun for hire when the cheaper options had failed. “They’ve been trying to end him for months.”
“So they tell me, and this is one thing that works in your favour. Aldea is lazy. I have persuaded him to let your friend be if his man does not find his mark this time.”
“They won’t come for him again?”
