“I have information you might like to see.” I handed the file back to Alec. “Here, send this to the Russians,” I murmured tohim before turning back to my conversation with Kostya. “You want my bad news?”
Athunkechoed in the back of the call, like he kicked or threw something. “If you must.”
“I must. We found South Americans selling the tainted drugs on my properties.”
He went quiet for a moment. “The drugs the Italians stole from me, and then cut with so many additives they’re literally deadly.”
“The very same.”
“And how, do we think, the South Americans got their hands on those drugs?” he hissed. I could picture him running a hand through that head of curly blond hair like he’d done since we were kids. “It cannot be the same supply just stolen from me now.”
Alec dropped another stack of papers on my desk. I glared at the mound. “My guess is the Italians have been sharing some of the old product.”
“Meanwhile, we’re both at war with the Italians.”
“Yep,” I said.
“And now my warehouse has been hit by the South Americans.”
I leaned against the desk. “So, I’m just wondering, but could this be any clearer to you?”
“Fuck,” Kostya groaned. “The Italians allied with the South Americans.”
“My thoughts exactly. Which cartel is yet to be determined.”
The real question was when that alliance happened. Was it an alliance Luciano formed, or was Volpe making more moves?
Either way, our list of enemies just grew even longer. I had to call Obi.
This was war now. Cut and dry. War with Italians. War with South Americans.
But the Shadows didn’t fuck around. And we were not going to roll over and letanybodywalk over us.
My fingers ran down the edge of the knife strapped to my thigh.
“Well, there is good news, brother,” Kostya said. “We captured one of the South Americans during the attack. Want a little taste? Get some answers?”
I grinned, and it was all teeth. “Absolutely.”
Two hours later,I wiped the blood from my hands, feeling much better about all the pent-up energy I’d been stuffing down all day.
Whew.
Kostya handed me a bottle of water. All I could think about was how, as soon as I got home, I was going to drink two full glasses of my best scotch.
We both stared at the man hanging from a meat hook in the basement of Kostya’s estate. This place was a fucking fortress, and nobody was even close to hearing that man scream from down here.
“I know that look,” Kostya said, face split in a grin. Blood splattered the Russian’s hair, and he looked utterly feral. “He’s about to break.”
The man whimpered, arms so dislocated they looked like they might tear off his body at any moment. They wouldn’t, though. We were more experienced than that.
Blood dripped from multiple holes across his body. The tattoo across his chest was mangled and deformed, no longer legible. He had maybe ten minutes before he passed out, if that.And when that happened, he was too far gone to wake up again. We had to make this quick.
At least my knives were getting some great use today. How nice.
“Your turn.” I nodded toward the prisoner. I’d done my job, bringing him to the brink. Now Kostya could come in and finish the information extraction.
Kostya cracked his knuckles before picking up the hedge cutters. “Snip, snip, motherfucker.”
