“Alyona,” Jak rumbles, his voice gruff and accent thick with exhaustion. “There’s a man who’s been watching you. Take care of him, please. Section C, the corner table.”
I frown.
That’s not Kazimir. It’s the back corner of the bar, and he never sits there.
Looking around, my eyes search the shadows.
But that section is empty. All that’s there is a discarded napkin and a cigarette butt in the ashtray. I scan the bar, but the front door shuts, muffling the sounds of the street and tourists early in the night. A feeling that prey must feel when they’re being observed ripples up my spine.
If it wasn’t Kaz, who was watching? And why?
Chapter 9
Kazimir
TheZvezdawaits quietly at dock, its namesake—a star—painted in bright white on a dark hull. Behind dark glass on the second, third, and fourth decks, my men are clearing each room. Making sure this competitor hasn’t bugged or planted anything before my arrival.
I step out of the SUV, scanning the marina. It’s sparse; only two other yachts are docked at the long pier. The dockmaster’s hut at the end is staffed by the uncle of one of my men. Across the bay are smaller, more compact piers with little fishing charters and weekend wake boats jostling in the water.
“Ready?” Nika asks, his voice tight in the earpiece.
I nod, knowing he can see me from whatever deck he’s supervising the men on.
“All clear,” he confirms. “Eight minutes until arrival. Inessa confirmed that his crew just turned east on Bryant.”
“Good. Keep me updated if anything changes. I’ll see you shortly.”
Moving toward the gangway, I board the yacht and check with Davis that everything is in place. A light meal on the flybridge, surveillance from the nearby Regency Hotel’s rooftop just in case he decides not to respect boundaries.
The bartender and butler are both certified killers in dress clothes, ready to pull hidden knives or choke someone out if needed. But hopefully, this new blood isn’t stupid enough to try anything in my territory.
Minutes later, a bright white Eldorado pulls into the marina. I go still at the railing, staring.
“Is this a joke?”
None of the men on the line utter a response; it’s a rhetorical question. The cars that follow the Eldorado are inconspicuous, but newer. A Camry, an Accord, a minivan with six men inside. They’re all stone-faced, watching as their leader gets out of the Eldorado with an older man at his side.
Anger threads through me. Clearly, this new blood doesn’t take our world seriously. He has on baggy beige shorts that fall below his knees. He looks overly comfortable in his unbuttoned floral shirt and sunglasses. He looks like a tourist.
That’s how I’ll treat him then.
Stupid enough to set foot on my dock and come after my ports.
“Bring him up,” I growl, eyes locked onto the man called Hinto as he swaggers happily toward the pier. He’s gesturing, chatting away. At least his companion has the decently to appear composed and respectful. Closer to me in age, he wears dress pants and a button-down with a tie.
Hinto is escorted onto theZvezda.His exclamations can be heard before he even reaches the flybridge.
“—private terrace!? Wonderful! And the sunroof, I’ll have to remember that when I buymyfirst yacht.”
His laugh irritates me to the point where I can’t sit still in my chair, shifting and clenching my jaw, wanting to down a drink. But this meeting is best done sober. I have a feeling that Hinto makes himself look like more of an idiot than he is; or else he wouldn’t have made it this far.
He steps onto the bridge, grinning from ear to ear, sunglasses reflecting my hulking figure at the table that’s been set for us. My eyes narrow.
“Mr. Baranov! How exquisite to finally meet you in the flesh. I’m sure,” he grins, holding out a hand, “I need no introduction.”
It hits me that this might all be some kind of play to get a reaction out of me. Taking his hand, I don’t shake it, but squeeze it. Slowly and firmly until his grin widens.
Then my eyes look at his companion.
