Channel after channel mocks me with a story about a random attack in the park or a robbery gone wrong. Cops and civilians alike are getting killed.
It’s absolute mayhem.
I turn the TV off and drop the remote on the table. Teacups rattle in their saucers. Fingernails dig into the palm of my hand as I clench my fists hard enough that I’m hurting myself.
“That’s his move.” Stepan shifts next to me. “What’s yours going to be, Pavel Sergeyevich?”
I scrub my chin. Sharp stubble scrapes my fingers. It’s the accumulation of a week’s worth of neglecting my face. And my hair. And my goddamn reputation. I pinch the bridge of my nose. What else is there left to do?
A hush falls over us. The lack of sound is peaceful, welcoming, relieving. I could sit in it forever if I didn’t have things to do. I have a war to win.
Liya cost us one battle. She won’t cost us another.
“We hit the streets.”
He nods. “As you wish. What can I do?”
“Gather the rest of the Bratva. Organize them into teams. Hunter-killers.”
He holds his phone up to take notes. “Any preferences for team leaders?”
I point toward the den. “Kostya and Gennadiy will lead the assault groups. Who else did you have in mind?”
His eyes glaze over as he thinks. “Barinov, Slava, Mikhail…”
“Task them.Okhotniki.” Hunters.
“Who do you want as reinforcements?”
Everyone, I think savagely. But that’s just not possible right now.
“Cardona is getting ruthless—but he’s also getting reckless.” I scratch my chin. “Let’s see what his partners think about it. I want you to get in touch with Bernie Daye in the Bronx.”
“Yes, Pavel Sergeyevich.” He stands up and leaves the room.
That’s one thing handled. Liya is something else.
The floorboards above my head creak. I glance skyward. She’s probably locked herself in the bedroom again.
I stare at the ceiling.I told her not to do this.
But secretly, I can’t help thinking that this is all part of her plans. That somewhere in that beautifully clever mind of hers is the idea of using the DA to flush out Cardona. A part of me hopes she offers her help again. It’s enough to get my blood pumping. To see the excitement glinting in her eyes again. To watch her pick apart a problem because she can see the world from a completely different angle, one that I can’t even begin to grasp.
I can picture it now: her eyebrows twist, her tongue pokes out, and she gets this hungry shimmer in her eyes that makes me want to smash my lips into hers until there’s nothing left of us.
I rub the back of my neck.That’s not going to happen again. She’s done.
Vibrations yank me out of my thoughts. I stare at my phone, an unknown number flashing on the screen.
It could be one of the guys from the penthouse.
I answer the call. “This is Pavel.”
“Mr. Suvorov, long time,” drawls the man over the line. “Ricky Blair here—We ran into each other at one of those trades with that Bronx dealer about four years ago.”
“Ricky.” I slide from my chair. “This is a surprise. You haven’t dealt us weapons since…”
“Since Felix bought us out. Yeah, I’m aware.”