“I’ll need to return home tomorrow to avoid suspicion,” Jacobi says, flexing his wrists as the bindings fall to the floor.
“I’ll arrange it along with protection in Berlin.”
Jacobi stands on wobbly legs, clutching the arm of the chair to steady himself. “I won’t renege on our deal. I know how to pick the winning side, and I know I’m looking at it.” His gaze dances between Massimo and me.
I truly hope he’s right.
* * *
I am listening to the cryptic one-sided phone conversation Massimo is having with Fiero with interest as we travel in a blacked-out Land Rover from the warehouse to Massimo’s home in Belgravia, an affluent part of London where lots of wealthy professionals and celebrities live. “Okay. We’ll see you in the morning,” he says before ending the call.
“Fiero is coming here?”
Massimo nods before taking my hand and pulling me in closer to his side. “There is more you don’t know.” He brushes a few stray strands of hair off my face as we drive past busy London streets. It’s early evening and still bright out.
“Tell me.”
He tilts my chin up with one finger. “Did you mean what you said about no more secrets and us being a true team?”
I don’t hesitate to reply. “I meant every word.”
“Then we can stop with the surveillance bullshit,” he says. I arch a brow, and he chuckles. “Sweetheart, Nicolina is parading all over New York in a black wig and a white suit while we’re across the other side of the ocean. If I didn’t already know you were using her as a decoy, this little trip would’ve let the cat out of the bag.”
“You left me no choice after you sicced your PI on me.” I drag my fingers through the thick growth on his chin and cheeks. “How about you call your hound off, and I’ll tell Nic to ditch the wig?”
“Deal.” He kisses the corner of my mouth as I lower my hands to my lap. “You need to get rid of your IT guy. He’s not working for you.”
“I already had Dario fire him.”
“Good. I will set up your IT systems so they’re impenetrable.”
“You will?”
He flashes me that cocky grin I used to hate but now secretly love. “I have an honors degree in computer science from Oxford, and I upgrade my skills on a continual basis. There isn’t much I can’t do with technology.”
“Okay. I will instruct Dario to work with you on the handover. I suspect my guy was bought by Anton, but it would be nice to verify that. He’s not the only enemy I’ve picked up over the years, so I could be wrong.” My gut tells me I’m not, but I would like to be sure.
“I’ll get to the root of it.”
“Thank you.”
“Look at us,” he says, grinning wildly. “Working together so amicably. We’re not just compatible in the bedroom.”
I roll my eyes though I don’t disagree. “If you’re so fucking sure of yourself, perhaps you’ll have a solution to my supply-chain issue because I won’t be receiving any more shipments from the Russians. Perhaps O’Hara can entice the Paraguayans to come back,” I muse, tapping a finger against my lips. “They were pissed at being cut out.”
Massimo shakes his head as a wolfish grin slips over his gorgeous mouth.
“I fail to see what’s so amusing. If The Commission finds out I was working with the Russians, they will kill me before Anton gets a chance.”
The humor instantly glides off his handsome features. “No one is killing you, and The Commission will never find out you were working with the Bratva. They can’t know you had an arrangement with their archenemy.” He slides his uninjured arm around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head in a super sweet gesture that brings tears to my eyes. “Who else knows about the Russians?”
“Not many. I knew to keep this contained. My inner circle and a few of my trusted men are in the know. The crew who handles the shipping and distribution all believe the supply comes from Colombia.”
“What about DiPietro?” he asks through clenched teeth.
I shake my head. “Cruz doesn’t know.” My stepfather hates the Bratva, and there is a lot of bad blood between the Russians and Vegas. I couldn’t risk telling Anais or Cruz for fear one of them would let that intel slip to Saverio or that Cruz might let it slip to his father who sits on The Commission.
Relief floods his features. “Good. I don’t trust that motherfucker.”
