“Douglas,” he says dismissively, not bothering to look at the man who stands a few yards away. “My operations manager.”
I say nothing, but appreciate that he is very clearly a capable man. Douglas’s eyes look vacant while taking everything in. Finally, a small smile forms on my lips.
“A pleasure. Please. Sit.”
Abram, the server, takes a place silently next to the table. “Coffee,” I say, pinning Hinto with my gaze. He takes the hint, the grin ever-present on his face, and asks, “What are the chances you have Mezcales Unicos on board?”
Without saying anything, Abram steps toward the bar. I don’t deign to comment on Hinto’s choice; a top-shelf liquor that I, of course, do stock.
“I’m told,” I say slowly, not bothering to touch the food before us, “that you and I need to have a conversation. So you understand who owns what and where not to step foot unless you want to lose one or several appendages.”
“Clear sights on the men,” Nika says quietly in the earpiece. “I’m in with the captain, Kazimir. Liev is receiving real-time updates on the conversation.”
I settle deeper into my chair, content. Back at Baranov Tech, Liev will be listening in and strategizing with the rest of our team. Figuring out just how big a threat Hinto really is; how badly he wantsmyterritory.
The younger man doesn’t bother answering, not until his drink arrives moments later and he takes a sip. He hums appreciatively, gesturing to Douglas as if to offer him one; the slightest shake of his head and Hinto chuckles.
“I could get used to it here,” he murmurs, gazing back toward the city. It’s mid-day, the streets busy, a horse-drawn carriage passing one of those pedal-bars as a group of tipsy women laugh and pedal furiously. Fishing boats are coming in from early morning charters to offload their catch into waiting vans full of ice.
Shipments are arriving, though only certain people would know what to look for: weapons and tech sold to the highest bidder. All are absent from the manifests and ready to be shipped out on my jets.
Hinto’s smirk drops when he turns back to me, and an ice-cold feeling drips down my spine. When he removes his sunglasses, his eyes are flat and empty. Soulless.
“Let’s not pretend that I don’t know who you are, Mr. Baranov. And what you control. Let’s not pretend that you don’t know what Iwant.” He leans forward, flicking a piece of sashimi off the plate. In the background, Abram shifts.
“We do not necessarily do business in the same… industry. But I see that as a positive, Kazimir. Can I call you Kazimir?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “All I need are two ports; a dozen places for my boats to dock and offload. We can negotiate, or I can take them by force. It’s up to you.”
He finishes the mezcal and locks eyes with me.
“I think it’d be in both our interests to avoid a territory war, don’t you? You’ve been quite comfortable here since your uncle passed, haven’t you?” That damn smirk, like a coyote. “You’re due for a challenge. If you insist.”
My knuckles crack when I roll them. The tension in my body doesn’t ease, but I try to shift it to something useful. “Perhapsyou haven’t done your research. I didn’t get this territory bygiving things away.”
“No, I don’t imagine you did. But you didn’t have to fight for it, either, did you? It was an inheritance of sorts.” Hinto leans forward again, those eyes dead despite his smile. “Me? I had to claw my way up out of the streets of Colombia. And now, here I am. In beautiful Savannah.”
He glances back toward land, a thoughtful look on his face. “After this, I’m meeting with a realtor to view a penthouse or four. Do you have any suggestions for where I should settle in?”
Ignoring the question, I turn instead to hard facts. “My reach goes far, Hinto. Not just in Savannah but outside of this state to the north, and across the ocean to Europe. I have friends who would gladly come to my aid, if only to ensure their shipments arrive on time. One call and a bounty placed, and I’m not sure how easy it would be for you to findoneplace to dockoneboat, much less a dozen.”
“You might be right.” He laughs, tipping his head back toward his man. “Douglas has had our team look into you. It’s impressive, your client list, and it doesn’t overlap much with mine. Unsurprisingly,mygoods tend to make it into the gutters and the junkie’s veins, not the palaces of the elite. But there’s one thing you should know, Baranov. Douglas is very good at finding weaknesses, and yours involves root beer.”
Jerking upright, I hit the kill button on the earpiece, shutting down the entire system.
Hinto continues, his eyes finally lighting up with something like chaos, “…three nights a week, and a rather busty bartender.”
Images flash through my mind: the men I noticed only days ago outside of Common Soul; Aly at The Foundry, the way the light there softens her features; her laughter at dinner; the way she moaned as my fingers pressed against the very core of her.
No.
“If you so much as touch her?—”
“Oh,Iwon’t, but that doesn’t mean she won’t go missing.”
Seething, I stand, ignoring the plates shattering to the deck as the table rocks under my palms.
Hinto stands as well, slower, smoother, gesturing for Douglas—who has adjusted his stance to one of readiness, as has Abram—to stand down.
“It’s just a suggestion,” the twisted Hispanic says mildly, sunglasses dropping back over his eyes. “Think on it. Let me know within the next few days. I won’t set a deadline, but…” he shrugs. “If she goes missing, you’ve waited too long.”
