We didn't even hire out for security or chauffeurs. Every man who worked for us was related to us by blood, by marriage, or had been with us for decades. It was how we kept our men so loyal.
Independent contractors just filled in spaces when we needed them to. They were, by definition and design, replaceable.
Then it hit me.
"The guns," I said as the realization sank in.
"The guns," Gregor repeated, getting to his feet and walking toward me in his deceptively calm way.
Once again, he was being dramatic, acting calm and controlled so I wouldn't expect the anger.
"Tell me cousin, exactly how do you intend to fix this?"
"Excuse me?" I stood my ground, refusing to let him intimidate me. "The guns were on you."
"You insisted you be the one to handle Solovyov. Over and over we heard how it was your responsibility because your brother brought him to my side of the ocean."
"Gregor—" I warned as he got closer, his hand lifted like he was going to poke me to punctuate each and every point.
If he so much as thought about touching me, we were going to have a problem. Family or not.
"No," Gregor yelled, getting in my face but putting his hand down. "You made a big show about how your brother brought that monster to my shores, so you were going to handle it. Said over and over it was for the good of the family because he was just going to be a problem back in Moscow, anyway. You made the case over and over for how you were going to deal with it, like we all didn't know that you were trying to make a play for my territory."
"Gregor," I warned again, stepping closer to him.
We were eye to eye, chest to chest. It was a tactic that kept the tension high but stopped it from coming to blows. Neither of us could have thrown an effective punch this close. We would have had to step back and that would have signaled the imminent hit, giving the other person time to block or counter.
He knew exactly what I was doing, and the fire in his eyes, his gritted jaw, told me we were going to have this fight. We were going to have it now.
"You don't get to 'Gregor' me, Artem. You said this was on you, that you were going to handle this. All you've done is cost me millions of dollars. Millions in payoffs and damages when your brother had a shootout in the middle of the Ritz with dozens of witnesses and then took it to the middle of the goddamn New Jersey Turnpike. Do you have any idea how hard it was to get rid of all that footage?"
His voice rose with each accusation, spittle flying from his lips.
"Millions more when this rabid bitch Solovyov tried to off a senator in my pocket and then you let him find out about it."
"I didn't tell?—"
"And yet somehow he still found out." Gregor cut me off, his finger jabbing toward my chest without actually touching me. "And then I had to hire personal security to follow him around twenty-four seven like a goddamn babysitter, so he would still feel comfortable working with me on these deals."
I hadn't known that. Kostya's brief firefight, I did know about, and I reamed him out for it. Not that he cared. The smug bastard looked me dead in the eye and told me Marina was worth every penny.
If he wasn't my brother, I'd have shot him right there.
Both Kostya and I had done the honorable thing and offered to pay Gregor back plus interest. He refused, likely so he could pull this card whenever he felt like he needed the moral high ground.
No one had mentioned that Solovyov's target was aware of the attempted hit. I hadn't leaked it. There was no benefit to it.
Yeah, it would have caused Gregor a headache and some money for security, but so what? I would have gained nothing.
Now, if that bit of information would have resulted in the senator insisting on working only with me in the future, then I would have leaked it, but I wasn't after the DC territory. I had no interest in dealing with the constant changes brought by the never-ending revolving doors of senators and members of congress.
No, I preferred to leave that bullshit to Gregor.
"Are you done?" I asked, as he opened his mouth to go on another rant. This fight was unproductive, and I had better things to spend my time and effort on.
"No, cousin. I'm not."
Gregor's face reddened, a vein throbbing at his temple.
