Page 35 of The Brigadier

I’d almost lost my mind, thrusting fingers into her glistening pussy.

There was no doubt our attraction was mutual, too much so. I’d need to make a point of staying away from her. As if that was fucking possible.

I’d called Vissarian after she was safe, letting him know the circumstances. I’d also grilled him on if he’d handled a ‘different’ kind of business either before or during his recent trip. He’d acted as if he was almost incensed I’d asked, but when I’d reminded him that Sonya, his wife’s niece had issued an out of the blue and what I considered out of place warning, I’d felt his anger through the phone.

Then when I’d mentioned the possibility one of the Italian crime syndicates was involved, he’d gotten quiet. I hadn’t grilled him while he was here on what business he was conducting because in truth, I hadn’t cared.

Now, I did.

But I knew my half-brother. It was going to take him a little while to come clean. After he potentially cleaned his own house.

I pulled the mug of coffee to my lips, still furious Chantel had been forced to live in the shithole she had and had endured both danger and increased fear. The nastiness with her boss annoyed the fuck out of me but as I’d told her, his penance would need to wait.

But I would dole it out in a way that would ensure the man would never treat women like a chauvinistic pig again.

I dialed Danny’s number, trying to ensure my new guest had been secured at the warehouse.

He yawned immediately after answering the phone. “Jesus, Nikolay. It’s fucking early.”

“Seven-thirty, for God’s sake. Not that early. Don’t you remember I have a son who needs breakfast and is almost without a nanny?”

“Still no luck?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

“How about Chantel? She lost her job and needs something to do.”

I resisted laughing. “She doesn’t seem like the motherly type to me.”

“I don’t know about that.”

There were times his teasing voice annoyed the hell out of me. “Our buddy on ice?”

“He is. Not happy about it either.”

“Did he spout off anything else?” I asked, staring at the blackness in my mug. For about a million reasons, the coffee tasted bitter. That usually happened when I didn’t feel in control of a situation.

“Some crap in Italian I couldn’t understand. But I swear to God, the man’s eyes are evil.”

For Danny to say something like that was fascinating. “I’ll get through that evil layer as soon as I figure out what to do with Damien. I’ll let you know the time. I want you and the others there. I don’t like the way the dude is acting.”

“You and me both,” Danny huffed. “Just let me know.”

“Any word from the street yet?”

“Just like before, all is too quiet, almost ominous. I may send a couple of people into Cosa Nostra territory later. Incidentally, have you talked with Aleksander to see if his wife knows anything?”

“Her father isn’t exactly forthcoming on crime syndicate business. But I plan on talking with him later in case he’s heard anything. Let me get Damien awake. It’s always a bear to get him dressed and ready for breakfast.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Nik. He’s adorable but I know he’s a handful.”

“Yeah, but he’s my son. That trumps everything else.”

“You’re a good man,” Danny said. “Call me with the time.”

“Will do.”

After placing the mug on my desk, I glanced out the window briefly. Through the decades, various syndicates had fought over turf and family, arranged marriages becoming fashionable a long time before to try to stop the violence. From every story I’d heard through spending time with the old timers in Brighton Beach who’d lived through so much, I’d realized the evolution of the mafia had been inevitable. Of course.