He doesn’t look anything like me, and that means people never see him coming.They certainly don’t expect him to be as smart as he is.
Which comes in handy.
“Mikhail Merekov,” he says.He lifts his brows once, but doesn’t say anything else, because he knows exactly what I’m going to make of that name.
I reach for my cane and let my fingers tighten around the handle, seeking the steadiness of the grip there.The knowledge that I have a weapon to hand, and one that no one else knows about.
Because I know that name, just like Luke does.Better, actually.
I’ve dealt with the man before, and it didn’t go well for anyone.
Several men didn’t come out of the meeting alive.
We don’t hold with the Russians down here.Their rough, guttural language and willingness to beat someone to death with their fists alone don’t go with New Orleans rules, and though we’ll bend rules down here, we also have a code of ethics.
We were all, at one point, gentlemen.
But the Russians...
They’re not like us.They’re rougher and make their own rules.Willing to do whatever it takes to get their way, no matter who they have to kill.They’re heathens who don’t appreciate the climate down here, and I’ve always been glad they were more prevalent in New York than they are in the Big Easy.But every once in a while, they come to town with their names that hold too many consonants and their broad, heavy hands.Their guns and Bratva.
Their willingness to go against anyone they come across.
And when they do, when they decide that they have business with New Orleans, they always go to one man to introduce them around and get what they want.
Mikhail Merekov.He’s made a home for himself down here by mostly keeping his head down and getting along.He doesn’t make a lot of trouble for anyone, and makes his money in legitimate business enterprises.
But if there’s trouble with the Russians, it always boils down to him.
So if Sean Duhon is mentioning Mikhail, it means...
“The Russians are here.”
Luke nods once, having already come to that conclusion, and watches me for his next orders.
But I don’t need him on this one.I stand and move toward the door, my cane at my side and my other hand on the gun in the holster stretched across my chest.My mind is racing through all the implications and no longer has time for Luke and anything else he might have learned from Jacky.Hell, I don’t even have time for Hunter or his hacking skills.
Because the Russians are coming to town–or they’re already here.Mikhail’s name is coming up with the leadership of the city.And that means we’re dealing with a whole new set of complications–ones I hadn’t even taken into consideration.I thought we might have international involvement, but I also thought it was becomes Dom and his allies were selling girls into the international market.
I didn’t realize the international market was coming here.
And as far as I know, Brooks doesn’t know about that either, so her already dangerous position just became even more risky.She’s no longer playing with all the information, which makes this even scarier.
I need to get her out of there.I need her here helping me figure out what the fuck is going on and how to stop it.
And I don’t trust anyone else to get into Dom’s house and rescue her without getting caught.
Brooks
Iwatch the man carefully, poised on my toes and waiting for the moment he turns the corner.I’ve been observing him for the last fifteen minutes, timing exactly how long it takes for him to get past this door and through the next part of his round, and I have it down to a science at this point.The moment he gets past the door and hits the corner, I start counting.
“Five, four, three, two–”
He passes the window at the corner of the house and turns, and I’m walking quickly for the balcony before his back disappears.
If my studies are right, I’ll have fifteen minutes on the balcony alone before he rounds the house and comes back, and I’m going to take every second of it.I’m not supposed to leave the house, even to go onto the balconies, but I’ve spent an entire day in my father’s company and I’m desperate for some time on my own.Thirsty for fresh air and quiet like a woman dying of thirst.
Overcome with the space to actually think.
