I was stuck like a butterfly about to be encased under glass. I looked desperately at Simon, still hoping beyond hope that he was on my side. He wasn’t.
“You need to make it look like I got jumped,” he said to the guy with the crooked nose. “But take it easy, okay?”
Crooked hauled back his fist and hit Simon three times in quick succession. He staggered back, wiping his bloody nose and spitting more blood before pushing on his jaw to check for loose teeth.
“I said take it easy,” he whined.
“It needs to look real when you go crawling back to throw them off the trail,” the man crushing me under his boot said, leaning over to crack Simon in the side of the head for good measure.
A setup. Simon had somehow infiltrated himself into my family, biding his time until he could do something like this. How long until Aleks figured out he was lying? The fact that they were talking about their plans freely in front of me didn’t bode well for my future.
I could very well be long dead by the time Aleks realized the truth.
I was going to die, all because I decided to try something new. Big, big mistake. Their laughter over how well their plan was going sounded like cruel taunts. I checked out, curling into aball and trying to make myself be anywhere but there. I couldn’t fight these huge men. I couldn’t even stand up to run away.
Closing my eyes tight, I tried to block everything out, but could still feel their rough hands as they lifted me and dragged me over to one of their cars. My eyes flew open at the unmistakable sound of a trunk opening. No, this couldn’t be happening. I had to make it not happen.
But I couldn’t even make a sound. A moment later, I was tossed in the trunk, the smell of gas filling my nose as my head jostled against the tirewell. It didn’t matter if I closed my eyes after they slammed me in. Everything was dark either way.
Chapter 4 - Gavril
The weekend that my wayward team threatened mayhem against the Petrovs passed without incident, and a few more days after that were blissfully serene. I actually got some things done that added a hefty amount to my personal bank account.
That was the whole point of a life of crime, right? Making money? I certainly enjoyed it, and the more I accrued, the more it eased my bitterness at having to fight for the power that was rightfully mine.
The Collective had realized after the Santino massacre that I was the best man for the job, not Luigi. Poor Luigi was just late in getting the memo, clinging to hope he could overthrow me. But it seemed like his men knew who to listen to if they wanted to not only get ahead but stay alive.
I was riding high, but it was an illusion. Not three days went by before I got word from one of my trusted insiders at Luigi’s camp that something was going down. Something I would not like, and it was due to take place at Luigi’s own house, of all places.
Unlike me, who kept my true home a tightly held secret and used the high-rise apartment for meetings only, Luigi loved throwing lavish parties. The man was addicted to the Hollywood lifestyle, always courting producers and starlets to his place for illegal gambling, drug-fueled raves, or anything else to court their favor. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Luigi had a closet full of half-finished screenplays and was trying to get his big break.
Whatever the reason was for these parties, they pissed me off. I like to have fun, but what I didn’t like was begging for unwanted attention. If he could keep them locked down,that would be one thing, but invitations flew far and wide, and the last thing I needed was half my guys in jail due to lack of discretion.
It didn’t just piss me off; it was frustrating as hell, because this organization could run like a well-oiled machine. I’d seen the Collective in action in both Russia and Italy, and they knew what they were doing. There were no jacked-up wildcards with overinflated egos around to mess things up.
“Tell me what he’s got planned this time,” I asked my snitch.
“I’m not honestly sure,” he said. “He’s keeping it really close to his chest this time, but I know it’s been planned for a while, and there’s a missing piece they keep talking about.”
“You don’t know what that is, either?”
He shook his head, looking chagrined. “I think they might be onto me, Boss, sorry. I know whatever it is, they got it today, and this event is meant to go down tonight.”
“Event? They’re calling it that and not a party?”
“Yeah, it’s supposed to make Luigi a ton of money and—you’re not going to like this part.”
“I don’t like any of it, but go on. And if you really think they’re onto you, I’ll reassign you after this.”
He nodded this time, looking more secure about what he was going to admit next. “Whatever they’ve got planned, it’s big, and they’re certain it’s going to hit the Petrovs hard.”
“Fuck,” I swore. “I’m so sick of that damn family.”
“I know. I hope it’s nothing more than their usual gambling bullshit.”
I did too. I had my own plans for the Petrovs, and when it finally came together, it was going to be the end of them. And that required meticulous planning and an element of surprise, not these constant little attacks that kept them on their toes. I dismissed the snitch and decided to pay a visit to Luigi’s, hoping it was just the usual gambling bullshit.
If he could keep it to that, I’d probably look the other way, but he always had to go too far, mixing in illicit drugs of all kinds. He could join a street gang if that was how he wanted to roll. It was beneath me.
