The water runs pink. I rinse till it doesnae, dry my hands on a clean towel folded on the counter. There’s a fresh white shirt hanging on the back of the office door.
I strip off my bloody shirt, ball it up, and drop it in a trash bag that’s going into the incinerator with whatever’s left of Ray’s men.
Kostya comes in.
“Let’s roll.”
“Aye.”
* * *
The office on Maddox is the entire third floor of a building I’m going to own by Friday. We already had it gutted. The room I walk into has one long table, fourteen chairs around it, and twelve men sitting in the chairs. They stand when I come in. I dinnae tell them to sit back down. I just walk to the head of the table and stand there.
Kostya stands at the door behind me, hands folded in front of him.
I look around the room. The captains from the four crews Ray used to deal with are spread around the table, not sitting next toeach other because none of them trust each other. There’s a rep from one of the smaller families. A couple of cops.
I put my hands flat on the table.
“Halo City is Maksimov now.” I let that sit. “As of this morning, every line of business Ray Venn ran is mine. The routes, the territory, the percentages, the protection. All of it.” Nods and hums. “The men who came back to take from his house after he was in the ground are no longer reachable.”
A choked sound escapes the man two seats down from one of the dirty cops. I look at him. He lowers his gaze.
“I’ll meet with each one of you individually. Ye will come when ye are called. Ye bring your books. Ye tell me the truth. If I find ye lying, I dinnae have to tell ye what happens then.”
Silence.
“This is not a negotiation. Anyone who has a problem with that, speak up now.”
Silence.
“Good.”
I straighten up, button my jacket.
“Kostya. Take it from here.”
My man steps to the head of the table as I walk out. I dinnae look back. The room stays standing as I go.
I take the stairs two at a time, get back in my car, and drive home to my woman.
Twelve
Lisa
I wake up parched, ruined, and sore in places your girl has not been sore since the Obama administration, and when I try to stretch, my arms file a formal complaint and refuse to cooperate.
I’m alone in the bed. Alone in bed, comforter up to my chin.It’s after noon,and you, ma’am, slept like a woman who got thoroughly handled.
I open my eyes. Imelda is on the pillow next to me, watching me like I personally insulted her bloodline by sleeping this long.
“Hi, baby.”
Slow blink. Pure judgment.
I try to sit up. My body laughs at me. So I roll on my side instead, andLord…the ache. It’s not the bad kind of ache. It’s the good one. The kind that runs from the soles of your feet up through your hips and lands somewhere filthy…
His mouth. The counter. “I’m puttin’ a fuckin’ baby in ye.”The way he carried me. The hall. The bed. His hands, his cock, andmy wifegrowled between his teeth like a threat and a vow all at once, and…
