Not a flicker of emotion was present on Luca’s face. His eyes were two dark pools of venom. No light and nothing behind them.Dead.
Jeremie was right.
He didn’t give half a shit.
The silence stretched for another full minute before Luca spoke again. “Tell me about the weapons they’re offering.”
Holy psychotic shitballs.
I had a lot to aspire to. Yes, I was violent and murderous, and didn’t have a drop of morality in my entire body, but at least I was capable of feeling. If someone wanted to touch Tierney—let alone babysit her while I was gone—I’d be killing them six ways from Sunday just to make sure the job was done.
Enzo and I exchanged looks. Our eyes said the same thing.
Luca was going to be the new don.
He deserved it.
He crossed every personal and professional line to get there, and he was pragmatic, cold, and calculating enough to make good decisions.
Clearing my throat, I went back to business. “Firearms, grenades, state-of-the art rifles—the kind that can pierce a row of refrigerators. You know, the works.”
“Military issue?”
“With the serial numbers filed off beyond recovery,” I assured him.
The Russians had a lot of weapons the Camorra could only dream of. They were prolific arms dealers, while our forte was drugs and money laundering.
“And what guarantees will we have about them honoring the new borders?” Luca rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt.
I shrugged. “We’ll figure out the fine print together.”
“And Katya?” Enzo asked. “Do I still have to marry her?”
“Yes,” Luca and I said in unison. We needed family ties with the Bratva. For our blood to mix with theirs. “Jeremie’s babysitting gig is not gonna last more than a few weeks, until we’re sure we’ve eliminated the Coppola clan,” Luca added. “We still need to break bread with the Russians.”
“Should I call Jeremie?” I asked.
“No. We’re negotiating this directly with Alex,” Luca snarled. “Get the pakhan on the phone.”
I took out my phone, checking first to see if Tierney had messaged me again.
Tierney: What’s your weird fixation with me and coffee?
Achilles: That’s random.
Tierney: So is the fact that you’ve always asked me to make you some.
Not recently, though. Not since our reconciliation. I cared too much to screw this up for a fucking Cup A Joe.
Achilles: It symbolizes domestic bliss to me.
She typed, then deleted, then typed again. I should’ve lied to her. Told her I just liked caffeine because coke was toodestructive a hobby. I didn’t want to scare her away. But I also knew I couldn’t keep this all-consuming hunger for her on a leash much longer. I’d agreed to stop the stalking. I’d never agreed to stop obsessing, though.
Fearing my answer would annihilate all the goddamn progress I’d been working on these past few weeks, I changed the subject.
Achilles: There’s a special edition of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy in my office, if you’re bored.
Tierney: Already found/read it but thanks.
