I turn my attention back to Lorenzo.
“Kozlov is building an alliance with a Colombian. Luis Restrepo.”
Dario’s arms uncross. My father’s chin lifts the way it does when new information rearranges the board he’s been playing on.
“Kozlov is marrying Natalia off to him to seal the deal.” Every set of eyes in the room lands on me at once. “The Colombians are sending Kozlov a large shipment of weapons as a show of good faith.”
“And you know this how?” Lorenzo’s voice is sharp.
“Because Natalia told me.”
He scoffs.
“And she’s willing to help us take him down.”
“Willing.” Lorenzo repeats the word like he’s testing it for poison. “The Pakhan’s daughter is willing to betray her own father.”
“Her father has done horrible things. She doesn’t owe him loyalty. She owes him nothing.”
My father stares at me. I can see the calculation happening. I can see him weighing the intel against the source, the source against my judgment, my judgment against years of evidence that I’m the son who finds new and creative ways to disappoint him.
“You’ve been compromised,” he says flatly. “You know that.”
“I know what it looks like.”
“It looks like the Kozlov girl wrapped you around her finger and now you’re standing in my restaurant asking me to bet this family on it.”
“Then you’re not listening.” I don’t raise my voice, but I don’t soften it either. The back of my shirt is damp. Every muscle from my shoulders to my lower back has been locked tight since I walked through that door and I’m starting to feel it, a dull burn like holding a position too long at the gym. “Natalia’s not lying, and this is something we can use. If Kozlov’s trying to lock in an alliance like that, the first transaction matters. If it goes bad, trust blows up before it’s built.”
My father says nothing. Which, with Lorenzo, can mean anything from “keep talking” to “I’m deciding how angry to be.”
I keep talking.
“We’ve been hitting them like a hammer for two years, and they keep absorbing it. This is the first crack we’ve had, and I’m handing it to you.”
I press on. “Natalia is willing to help us. She thinks she can find out more about the shipment, and if she does, we can use it.”
Dario scoffs. “That’s a lot ofiffor a woman you’ve known five minutes.”
“I know enough.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I know she wants out. I know her father is selling her to that cartel bastard like she’s part of the cargo. I know she’s more scared of going back to that house than she ever was of me. That enough for you?”
Dario opens his mouth. Shuts it. That’s a first.
Lorenzo turns his back to me. Walks to the window. The Strip glows below, all neon and motion.
“Santino would have liked this plan,” I say.
He goes rigid. His hand, resting on the windowsill, presses flat against the marble. The knuckles go white.
“Don’t.”
“You gave the order to kill Natalia because they took Santino, and you wanted Kozlov to feel the same thing. I get it. But you were wrong about one thing. Anton Kozlov doesn’t love his daughter. She’s not his Santino. She’s a line item in a business deal. You could have killed her and he would have been angryabout the lost alliance, not the lost child. It wouldn’t have touched him the way Santino’s death touched you.”
Nobody speaks. I can hear the ice shifting in his untouched drink across the room.
