I took their lack of tension as a good sign and dipped my chin at the Obschak when the Pakhan, Vasov, stepped forward to shake Aidan’s hand.
“Your gift, as requested,” Vasov demurred, and Aidan turned his head to the side.
“Trussed up like a Christmas ham,” he murmured, the sound of satisfaction evident in his words. He reached up and tugged at his bottom lip as he turned from the Russian leader and toward the unconscious man on the crucifix.
The sight was outrageous. Even to me. And I’d seen and done some shit in my time.
Aidan either bypassed the crucifix’s presence entirely or thought it was fitting. The worst criminals in Christ’s time were crucified. That was how Aidan’s mind worked. Fucking nutcase.
See, I was the kind of guy who liked shit to be over with. I’d shoot the cunt and that was that. Done. I wouldn’t feel guilty because I didn’t take a life easily.
Aidan was the sort who liked to play with his food before he indulged. Not that I could add cannibal to his list of oddities, but his nature was definitely reminiscent of a cat with a mouse.
He had the taste for torture, and that was why every Five Pointer knew to avoid the confessional on Thursdays at seven. That was Aidan’s time for confession, and he could be there for hours.
Doyle had more dick than most gave him credit for if he had to listen, in graphic detail, to the shit Aidan pulled on the regular. Said shit was why anyone would be insane to get on his bad side.
I had reason to want this man to suffer. He was the guy who’d ordered the drive-by. He was the dumbfuck who’d nearly killed my wife. But if I wanted him to truly suffer, it was best to leave him to Aidan.
The body was so still, the guy might have already been dead. But Aidan disproved that theory by reaching out and shoving his thumb into a weeping wound. When the man jerked awake, a scream tearing from his lips, echoing around the warehouse, Aidan stepped back with a smile as he reached for a handkerchief to wipe off the blood.
“Vas a morir, hijo de puta,”Aidan stated gruffly, telling the son of a bitch he was going to die in his own tongue to avoid confusion.
Like there could be any confusion about being fucking crucified.
Still, the Colombians had proven themselves to be idiots, so I guess Aidan felt like he needed to keep things nice and clear to avoid any misunderstanding.
The Colombian’s top lip curled in a sneer, but he shot a look at the Russians, men who’d been his allies until recently, and when there was no support forthcoming—no change of heart—he let his head drop.
Pussy.
Aidan stepped back and headed toward the Russians. Then, motioning at me, he said, “As agreed, we fronted you the twenty-five million in exchange for your firepower.”
I stepped to a nearby crate and pulled out the laptop from my briefcase. Opening the lid, I stared down at the GPS tracker of a van that was approaching our location. When I showed the Russians the footage, the Pakhan murmured, “Good.”
It was a strange deal we’d come to terms with.
We were paying for their first year’s shipments from the Mexicans, and we’d split the profits. It came at a high cost, but it had its own benefits. If they decided to screw us over within that year, well, their shipment wouldn’t be heading their way, would it? And their profits with it. Not a bad deal on their part considering they’d be earning money with zero paid out, but it was about creating ties that bind, and what better way than through money and blood?
The Pakhan handed Aidan a contract and said, “My daughter is almost fifteen. She can marry in two years.”
Aidan scowled. “That’s fucking young.”
Like the bastard could judge. He’d married Lena when she was seventeen.
Vasov shrugged. “With parental consent, she can marry whoever I choose.”
I wasn’t sure which of the brothers would be the sacrificial lamb, but it made sense for it to be Eoghan. He was the youngest, after all. At twenty-six, there was an eleven-year age gap. With Aidan Jr., it would be over twenty.
Eoghan wasn’t going to like it, but the brothers knew the deal. One of them would be getting married, Aidan Sr. just hadn’t outright commanded them.
Even as an outlaw, there was always a boss.
They might be the kings of their own particular kingdoms, but even they answered to Aidan.
With a flourish, Aidan signed the contract that bound the families together. I knew this aspect of the trade didn’t irritate him one bit. To his mind, his sons should already be married, and Lena should have a gaggle of grandkids to fuss over.
A cell phone rang and the Obschak pulled it out from his jacket. As he answered the call, a smirk of satisfaction curved his lips. To the Pakhan, he said something in Russian, which had Vasov beaming at Aidan.