“Then it’s simple. He and his men will pay the price of betrayal.”
I sat back, studying the surroundings. Our father had a solid reason for encouraging the alliance. I’d allow the relationship to continue. For now.
My brother seemed pensive, which was totally understandable. Our father had never allowed him to join in any aspect of business, stating he wasn’t cut out for our ruthless world.
“What is it?” I asked after all three vehicles within our motorcade had passed through the estate’s gates.
“Have you ever had a bad feeling about someone?”
“Absolutely. All the time. Are you still concerned about Don Pollizi?”
He nodded several times before turning his head. “Yes, I am. I don’t know why.”
I took a deep breath, able to see both side mirrors to ensure we weren’t being followed. “Always rely on your instincts, Mikhail. They could be the only reason you survive. But in this case, I believe you’re experiencing nerves.”
My brother was highly intelligent, perhaps more than I, but he’d had no experience with the physicality of the business. No interrogations. No murders. No pain howling at him from broken bones or twisted ligaments. No gunshots or knife wounds. No incessant testing of morality or humanity.
But I wasn’t in the business of coddling anyone, at least not any longer. He had to make his way in our world or leave it completely. That was the way of things, as savage as that might seem. What occurred in the next six months would shape my world as a leader.
“I guess you’re right,” he said. At least his voice held strength. “Do you ever think about getting married?”
The question came out of the blue and allowed me to laugh. “Not at all.”
“But as Pakhan, you’ll be required to take a wife. Yes?”
Wow. He’d been listening to the rules as presented by the old guard. There were still a few men alive, our grandfather included who were highly respected by almost every Bratva member. They preferred the old ways and rules, which included the belief that for a Pakhan to be taken seriously, he must take a wife and build a large family. I did not subscribe to that belief.
“Perhaps in the distant future.” When I’d once again sowed some wild oats. It had been a long time since I’d enjoyed the company of a beautiful woman. Perhaps I was due.
Even though he laughed with me, he continued to rub his sweaty palms on his legs. After twenty seconds, he sat back, staring out the passenger window.
I resumed answering emails, constantly scanning the mirrors. I was no fool. If anyone had gotten wind of our meeting, we could be considered fair game. Between the Pollizi Cosa Nostra and the Chertov Bratva, we had dozens of enemies.
The Russians weren’t the only vicious predators who would enjoy claiming responsibility for undermining our regime.
“Have you ever wondered about death?” he asked minutes later. It was the same question I’d heard when he’d been a teenager, but for an entirely different reason. He’d been told by several doctors he had limited time on this earth.
I’d almost broken one doctor’s neck for being so blunt with a goddamn thirteen-year-old.
The old wounds had been ripped open, his entire world shaken to the core. I thought I was finished with being his surrogate parent. With our mother’s murder, our father had immersedhimself in business, leaving me as my brother’s caretaker both in and out of the hospital.
“Death smiles at all of us, Mikhail. We cannot escape the inevitable. When our time on this earth has expired, there is nothing we can do. What is in our control is facing our demise with dignity and if necessary, extreme violence.” I threw him a smile.
He could tell I was trying to lighten his mood, not that I had any lightness woven in my molecular structure. “I guess you’re right. I just…”
“Speak your mind.” His hesitancy could get him killed.
“I don’t like or trust the man. The meeting was too slick, too practiced.”
“Yes, it was, but I wouldn’t have expected otherwise. They have much to gain from the acceptance of our business including an additional market for their products. However, trust will never be a word in our vocabulary. Do you understand?”
His deep breath was scattered, but the nod of his head showed more confidence. At least he closed his eyes, controlling his breathing as I’d taught him to do when no one was able to stay with him at the hospital.
When the driver began to slow, my hackles were immediately on edge. I gripped the headrest in front with one hand as I reached for my weapon with the other. “Why are we slowing?”
“Roadwork, sir. We need to take a detour.”
Mikhail bristled from beside me. “I don’t like this.”
