“Why not have him killed, too?” he asks as we approach the small cable box next to the gate.
The rigging is sloppy but effective. It’ll definitely take out a portion of the warehouse if it goes off. I have no intentions of letting that happen.
I ignore Phoenix’s question for now. Truth is that I don’t have an easy answer at the ready.
It’s not guilt I feel for Drago Lombardi. And it’s not quite pity. It’s something, though. I wish I fucking had a name for it.
“Do you need me to call someone?” Phoenix asks when I don’t answer.
“For what?” I ask.
“For that,” he says, jutting his chin at the homemade bomb plastered to my warehouse.
“Why call someone when you can do it yourself?” I ask with a smirk. I open the small cable box and start examining the wires that have been tampered with. “There’s a tool box in the boot of the car. Be a pal and go grab it for me.”
Phoenix saunters to the van and retrieves the box in question. When he jogs back over to me, I open it up and peruse the contents.
I can feel him staring down at me uneasily. If I were a less experienced man, I might have found it distracting.
“Calm down, kid,” I reassure him. “I’ve done this before.”
“Jordi’s inside the warehouse,” Phoenix points out. “Why not just call him?”
“Should I be insulted by your lack of confidence in me? That’s three times now you’ve asked if I know what I’m doing.”
I raise my eyes for a moment and he shuffles on his feet. “I’m just saying…”
I shake my head. “You gotta get better at lying, Phoenix,” I laugh. “I could call Jordi, yeah. But if he opens the gate to get to us, the bomb will detonate.”
With the pliers in my hand, I point at a gaggle of wires stretching off to the right. “You see that wire over there? It’s connected to the door lever. Pull this and that one goes off. Get it?”
He looks, assesses, and sees that I’m right. “Goddammit,” he grumbles with a nod. “Yeah, I see it.”
He’s a smart kid. Brash, of course, but what heir to the throne isn’t? We all learn our lessons one way or another. That’s why he’s here in New York with me. To prepare himself for the day he takes over the Kovalyov Bratva out in Los Angeles.
When his time comes, he’s going to be a fucking titan.
I pull out the wire cutter and step up to the box just as my phone starts to ring. “Yeah?” I reply as I answer.
“It’s done, boss,” Rhys informs me. “I’ve got three bodies and the detonator.”
“And Lombardi?”
“We let the fucker go, per your instructions,” Rhys replies. He doesn’t sound happy about it. “He took off in the white van.”
“Perfect,” I say. “You boys can head on back then. I’ll finish up.”
I end the call and focus my attention back on the thin collection of wires in front of me.
It takes me only a few minutes to zone in on the right wire. A thin red one that snakes around the gate switches.
“Well?” Phoenix asks when I don’t volunteer any information from the call.
“The boys grabbed the detonator. Lombardi got away in his van.”
“You told them to let him go.”
“Yes.”