Page 40 of Ruinous Need
That and… The fact that I haven’t seen Lisette in a week. We’re not even in the same hemisphere. And the video feed of her just isn’t cutting it now.
Now that I’ve heard her moan, it’s not enough to just watch her. She might be pretty, but I crave the taste of her. I need to feel the way her pulse goes frantic under my hand when I take control of her.
A call from Markov comes in right when I’m wondering what’s happening in New York.
“Boss?” He sounds tired. We’ve had nothing but trouble since Lisette arrived.
“What?” I’m impatient as I drum my fingers on the steering wheel of the jeep. Nothing feels right.
Once again, Markov has been dealing with an increase in security threats at home. The Irish and the Croatians both asked about Lisette at her ballet studio. For what reason, we haven’tfigured it out.
The whole thing is starting to stink.
I’m sure there’s something Semyon is keeping from me. Something about Lisette. The fiancée of the Pakhan is always going to attract trouble — but not this much. Not enough that even minor players like the cartels are on the lookout for her. And definitely not when she comes from outside the world of organized crime.
I take a deep breath and visualize the chess board. Shuffling the pieces around. No matter how I play it, these attacks seem meaningless.
I can’t find the angle these other gangs are going for, other than starting a pointless war with the most well-resourced organized crime group in New York. If Semyon has done one thing, it’s spread fear about the Bratva through the city. He hasn’t exactly given the Bratva a stellar reputation for the business side of things, but he has instilled enough fear in our enemies that it almost makes up for it.
Nothing is going how we planned it with my hunting mission either. I’ve hired a team of mercenaries, largely so I could leave Markov in the same city as Lisette. She’s more important than I am.
But nothing is shaking out the way I expected it to. The men are good — well-trained, following orders to a tee. It’s the target that’s the problem.
Yuri is here, but he’s not behaving the way I’d expected. The men the old Pakhan surrounded himself with were paranoid. Security maniacs, who came up when the Bratva was full of fear and suspicion and people stabbed each other in the back daily. That’s why it’s weird to find him on a ranch in an isolated part of Argentina with no security protection to speak of.
Something’s off. This feels like a trap. I haven’t felt this kind of paranoia since I was a kid, when people thoughtImight be worth something to the Bratva.
There’s something Semyon’s not telling me.
And what Markov’s telling me on the phone only heightens my sense of danger.
I radio the mercenaries.
“Stand down until further orders. Over.”
The radio crackles back. “Roger that. Out.”
“You need to come back,” Markov is telling me. “Things are getting messy.” He explains that the targeting of Lisette has ramped up in the past few days, with patrols from every gang out in New York looking for her.
I yearn for the days when we thought the Irish were the only issue with this job. I can handle the Irish. I can’t handle every organized crime group in the city — all of them somehow knowing way too much information about the girl I’m supposed to protect.
“Fuck it.” It’ll take a few days to drive to the nearest airport, even if I break every speed limit in this baking hot country. “I can’t be back until Wednesday, but I’ll do my best.”
I end the call and turn the jeep around. Yuri can continue rotting on this ranch with his stinking cows for all I care.
Then I realize my mistake. I’m making a lot of those, lately. This thing with Lisette is making me act crazy, pulling my focus away from the job.
Right behind me are two black Mercedes. I can’t see through the tinted windscreens but I’d bet anything they’re linked to the Argentinian cartel.
Manuel.
He was scared of me, but there must be someone else he’s more scared of.
This was a set-up.
I try to radio the mercenaries again, but their channel doesn’t respond.
Were they even fucking real? Or have I been led into aTruman Showof danger where I’m trying to track down a shadow of a man, leading a gang of mercenaries who were never loyal to me?
