“Easy, kid. It’s just me. Are you hurt?” My voice is low, but not low enough not to echo. It doesn’t really matter though. It’s not like my presence is unknown.
I pull the gag from his mouth and watch as Gianni chews on the nothingness for a minute. Then I wipe the sweat from his brow.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says.
“Neither should you. You also shouldn’t be dealing with Tristan. He’s bad news, obviously. But none of that matters right now. I’m going to get you out of here.”
“No.” He shakes his head and the lights pound on over us, section by section, until the entire room is lit up. “You need to leave, Ransome. Make sure my sisters are okay and?—”
“Rozanov.”
Tristan’s voice echoes through the room. I turn to see him standing in the distance casually, a smile on his face and a pistol in his hand. He’s using the end of the barrel to scratch his leg. I reach for the gun tucked into the back of my slacks, but before my hand even circles my waist, he aims his at Gianni.
“I wouldn’t,” he says.
I stop and bring my empty hand back to where he can see it.
As he saunters towards us, sights still on Gianni’s head, he talks. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite a predicament, Rozanov. I don’t know how you thought you could keep such a huge secret from us. From me.”
“What do you want, Tristan?”
I have my hand on Gianni’s shoulder to keep him calm. To keep him from doing anything stupid. But Tristan motions side to side with the gun, prompting me to step further away from the kid.
I do it.
“Like you don’t know? I want what I’ve always wanted. To run things my way, with you and your family out of the fucking picture.”
“You have no right becoming apakhan,” I growl as he closes the space between us.
“How do you figure?”
“You’re reckless. Thoughtless. Greedy.”
“You say all of those things like they’re bad,” he smirks. “At least I’m not stupid enough to put my heart into things. You have feelings for that little secretarial slut of yours.”
I grit my teeth but I don’t say anything. As long as he keeps talking, that’s more time Gianni keeps breathing. Tristan’s weakness always was his tendency to monologue. He likes the sound of his voice far too fucking much.
“And now,” he continues, “your motives are swayed. It works perfectly for me, honestly, because you don’t care about the ElPaso deal if it means me blowing this kid’s brains out and going after your girl.”
“El Paso can be negotiated,” I say calmly. “That was my father’s deal, and I honestly don’t like the way a lot of the details are hemmed together. It can be worked out.”
I’m lying, obviously. And he knows it.
“What are we talkin’?” His finger fidgets with the trigger. Gianni’s eyes are on it. He’s whimpering quietly, terrified out of his fucking mind.
I keep my eyes on Tristan’s.
“Let the kid go, unscathed, and stay away from Amara and her family forever. And I’ll cut you in. We can run the operation together, two freshpakhaniwith new rules and a new way of doing things.”
Tristan chuckles at that and starts to circle us like a vulture. I don’t follow him though. I stay where I am. He’s trying to distract me, and I’m not stupid enough to think we are here alone.
“That’s a cute offer, Rozanov. But the only cut I want is cutting you out.”
He stops in front of Gianni and presses the barrel to Gianni’s forehead, his eyes hard on mine.
“You run the trucks. No midway stop. Your name is on them, so if anything happens, it’s on you, not me. But the trucks unload here. Every grain of that blow is mine. Every penny of the profit is mine. You and your men work for me for nothing.” He shrugs. “Well, not nothing. You agree to all that and I don’t put a bullet through the kid’s head. Or my dick in your girl’s mouth.”
“Don’t do it, Ransome,” Gianni blurts out.
