Page 8 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Gerard flashed him a smile. “No problem. It’s what friends are for. But seriously, if you fire another chef and Meri calls me in the middle of Love Connection again to rant, I’m going to knife you.” He drew his knife out faux threatening. “I can’t live react if I can’t live watch.”

Gerard had a social media presence. Every time he brought it up Nikolai's eyes glazed over. He didn’t care much for social media.

“I’m will try best,” Nikolai sighed.

Then Gerard was gone.

Nikolai lingered, looking the room over. Was the plan really going to work? He oscillated between complete confidence and utter doubt.

Once, the Vitale family had had a lot of honor. Their agreements with the Tkachenko family were ironclad. This plan relied on that history. On whoever was above Mattia Vitale’s head caring when Nikolai Tkachenko leaned on him. To tell that bastard in no uncertain terms tocut the shit.

Another ping came from his phone in his pocket.Meredith. Nikolai forced himself out of the room and headed to the dining room. Meredith was there waiting for him.

Today she was wearing a vibrant green blouse, her platinum blonde hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Her jewelry matched the blouse, green and gold. One of the pieces was from their last summer’s ouroboros collection, and the snake looked beautiful wrapped around her wrist.

“I was just about to send a search party,” Meredith said.

“Gerard was here,” Nikolai said, immediately throwing his friend under the bus. “We were finalizing plan.”

“I thought I saw his car outside.” Meredith raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t he supposed to be with Alex?”

Nikolai could feel her eyes on him and he sidestepped it, taking a seat in front of the single table setting. “He was just wanting to go over it all again.”

Meredith’s considering hum told him that she didn’t believe him for a second. Maybe even that a side conversation between herself and Gerard had occurred.

The Nikolai of a decade ago would’ve taken offense to that, but he was past such things now. Meredith was the wheels of the operation, the keeper of the schedule, and Gerard was his veritable partner in crime. Between the three of them they managed a lucrative business, so Nikolai getting ruffled every time a conversation about him was had behind closed doors was pointless.

He was over forty now and had done enough therapy to know those conversations were usually in his best interest anyway.

“Well, I guess you should be quick with your lunch then,” Meredith said briskly. “I heard they’re on the way, so I’ll be heading out.”

Nikolai looked down at the provided meal. It appeared to be pelmeni.

“Did you eat?” He asked.

“Yes, I thought it was very good,” she said. “But if you fire this chef I might not be able to get someone for you while we’re in the middle of this mess.”

She tried to make it a threat, but it sounded the exact opposite to Nikolai. No chef meant more delivery food, which was Nikolai's favorite kind. Plus, Meredith couldn’t micromanage his diet if he could order whatever he wanted on his phone when she wasn’t around.

“I’m understand,” he said.

“A week, two tops,” Meredith said, echoing the conversation they’d had originally about the plan. Nikolai and Gerard were taking front on it because Meredith wanted nothing to do with it. She usually worked from his house, but she’d be in one of their offices for the next two weeks instead. That worked for Nikolai, considering he wanted as few targets here as possible in case Vitale retaliated.

“Yes. It will be quick. Simple.”

“You’ve said,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

She’d made her opinion of their plan unavoidable, and it had almost swayed him and Gerard from carrying it out. The only reason it hadn’t was that she hadn’t been able to come up with anything better either.

If they did nothing, the Mattia Vitale problem would only get worse.

“It will be okay,” Nikolai said, picking up this fork. “You’re should go.” He pushed around some of the dumplings dubiously. The dish almost smelled like it should, but he knew it wouldn’t taste like ???????? pelmeni. He didn’t know why the chefs even tried at this point. They’d have better job security not messing around with Russian cuisine.

“Take a bite before I go,” Meredith said. “I’m curious.”

Nikolai did so, chewing slowly. Immediately he hated it. It wasn’t anything like how ??????? would make it. The dough was fine, but the meat wasn’t right. It was bland.

He pushed the plate away and Meredith sighed, long-suffering.

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