Though the club won’t open until evening, my staff are out and about, preparing for the night ahead. The lights are dimmed, but it’s easy to make out the silhouette of the man sitting at the far end booth.
I nod at Enzo, who wordlessly peels off towards the bar, leaving me to approach Jason alone.
“You’re early,” I comment as I slip into the seat across from the councilor.
“And you’re late,” he fires back. I narrow my eyes, and he clears his throat quickly. “What gives, Rafael? We saw each other last night. If you had something to say, you could have said it then. No need for cryptic threats about me meeting with some Russian. What Russian?”
So that’s how he wants to play it? “You insult my intelligence, Jason. For me to even mention your meeting with Sergey’s man, you must know I already possess irrefutable proof.”
He pauses, sizing me up with wary eyes, but disappointingly persists with his innocent façade. “Well, why don’t youenlighten me with this proof of yours, Rafael? Because unless you’re referring to one of themanyRussian patrons I exchanged a few words with last night, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
Arguing with him is pointless, so I take out my ball pen. I hadn’t planned to bring out the big guns right away, but since he’s so dead set on playing dumb, then so be it. Big guns it is.
I press the ball point at the top, and the recording starts to play.
I’ve trimmed out the parts with Emilia—our conversations, our more intimate moments—so the audio starts at the knock on Jason’s office door, just minutes after he murdered that waiter while I was busy distracting Emilia from her guilt.
“Nothing. It’s probably our friend at the door. Go check it out. And if it’s not… well, you know what to do.”Jason’s voice rings out with crystal clarity. He flinches, eyes darting to the pen. Then he quickly scans the room, checking to see if anyone is listening. But my staff are professionals. No one is paying us any attention.
The recording continues.
A brief silence follows as the door opens, then Jason’s voice returns:“Yes, Viktor. What does Sergey have to say for himself?”
“My pakhan would like you to join him. Leave the Nightshades behind. They’re about to become a thing of the past,” says the new voice, thick with a Russian accent. Viktor.
I press the pen’s ball point again, cutting the recording short, and watch Jason closely.
He has gone pale. Sickly pale. And looks like he might throw up all over my table. “Do you remember now?” I ask calmly. “Or do you want to hear more?”
“Rafael, I–”
Enzo chooses that exact moment to reappear with my laptop, setting it down in front of me. “Ha, perfect timing.Thank you, Enzo.” My second-in-command winks as he retreats, his mission accomplished.
“You’ll really want to see this,” I inform Jason conversationally as I boot up my laptop, fingers flying over the keys. The video I’ve prepared loads, and I spin the screen to face him.
It’s a highlight reel of his worst decisions: clips of him cheating, getting into Nico Marino’s car, and that glorious moment the briefcase popped open as he fell.
I didn’t think it was possible for him to go even paler, but he manages it—his face turning ghostly, sweat beading along his brows. “H–how did you get this? Which one of my staff gave you this footage?”
Ah, so he knows it’s from his own car. Good. I click my tongue in disappointment. “You’re asking the wrong question, Jason. You shouldn’t be askinghowI got it. That’s irrelevant now. What matters is that I have it and what Imightdo with it.”
He swallows audibly. “Wh–why are you showing me this? What do you want from me?”
A slight smile curves my lips. Now we’re getting somewhere. “I don’t need to spell out what happens if an overzealous reporter gets their hands on this footage, do I?” Goodbye, senate dreams. Hello, public disgrace.
“Just put me out of my misery and tell me what you want,” he pleads, voice trembling a little.
“I want you to become my eyes and ears in Volkov’s camp. You’ll accept his proposition, text me the address and time of your meetings with him, and tell me everything you learn about him—and who’s backing him.”
“That’s… that’s dangerous, Rafael,” he stammers, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his face with a shaky hand. “If they find out—if they evensuspect—I could lose my li–”
“—And what gives you the assurance that you can’t lose your liferight now?” I raise a brow and slightly tuck my jacketback, showing him the butt of my 9MM. “You tried to betray me, Jason. You know what I do with traitors.”
Hs throat works furiously as he nods. “You’re right, you’re right. I’ll reach out to Sergey tonight and tell him I’m in.”
“Good. And if I were you, I wouldn’t try anything stupid. You have a lot to lose,” I remind him as I get to my feet. “Would be a shame to see that shiny future of yours go up in smoke. Or end behind bars.”
Jason scrambles up after me. “Of course. I’m fully aware of what’s at stake. I won’t disappoint you, Rafael.”
