Page 44 of His Savage Vow
I wakeup the next morning, unable to believe everything that happened at the club. My pulse races as the club ordeal flashes behind my eyes. The smoke, the screams, the gun kicking in my hand. Kirill knowing my name still makes me feel uneasy, but I don’t have time right now to dwell on who the mole in Maximo’s organization could be that sold us out.
And I still can’t stop thinking about how cold Maximo looked when he held his cousin, his best friend, at gunpoint. The stress of all this is getting to him, and I can’t say I blame him.
By the time I make it downstairs, Maximo and Enzo are already in the study with another man, hopefully with all animosity between them from last night forgiven.
The new man is tall, broad-shouldered, with salt-and-pepper hair and the kind of deep lines in his face that say he’s spent more time in the wind and salt air than behind a desk.
“Constance, meet Paul Grinello,” Enzo says when I step inside. “He’s our man on the inside with the dockworkers’ union, the captain over our operations there.”
Paul gives me a brief nod, but his attention is fixed on Maximo. “The Bratva’s all over the docks. They’ve got ships coming in every couple of days now.”
“How are they getting their equipment unloaded and transported off your docks?” Maximo asks him.
“One of the assistant dockmasters, Michael Rose, turned. I don’t know when it happened, but the last couple of weeks he’s been stamping their manifests and helping them move their containers into the special warehouses where Customs looks the other way.”
Maximo’s jaw tightens. “I take it you’ve already had your men deal with Mr. Rose and his temperamental loyalties?”
Paul’s expression is grim. “Yes. I sent some boys to straighten it out. They ran into Russian interference that you’re probably going to see about on the news later. There was another shoot-out down at the docks, with two of my boys wounded. They weren’t so bad that they had to go to the hospital at least. We got them over to Vitoli’s clinic and he patched them up.”
Enzo goes on to add, “It’s not just the port. Like I told you before, the same thing’s happening across the city. The cops are doing sweeps on our street crews while letting the Russians run free. As long as the Bratva continue propping up the mayor, he’s going to keep dancing to their tune.”
Paul shakes his head. “It’s fairly obvious, Maximo. They’re making a major push to shove the Italians out of the city entirely.”
For the first time since my father died, I wonder if revenge will matter if the whole city falls.
Maximo doesn’t look surprised, though. He just says, “Thenwe push back fucking harder.” He leans forward, his voice low but sharp. “First, bring in every man we’ve got from out of town. All hands on deck. Make sure they’ve got whatever guns and cash they need, and that the safe houses are stocked.”
Enzo gives a curt nod. “On it.”
“Paul,” Maximo continues, “you call every lawyer we’ve got on retainer. Any of our guys picked up in these sweeps gets bail posted before the ink’s dry on their arrest papers.”
Paul sighs heavily but doesn’t argue. “I’ll start now.”
The room thins to just Maximo and me as the two captains leave to execute his orders. I can feel the weight of what they’re not saying crushing down on him. It’s not lost on me how quickly this is escalating and how thin they’re stretched.
“What about Kirill?” I ask.
Maximo’s eyes flick to mine. “This isn’t just about Kirill anymore. It’s a full-scale war for the city.”
“You promised me?—”
“I haven’t forgotten my promise,” he says, his tone softening. “We will take him down. But Constance, I have to be honest with you. You heard Enzo and Paul. We’re losing. And if we lose the city, even killing Kirill won’t matter. His uncle, Alexei, will still win, and we’ll be fucked.” His voice trails off, and he lets out a deep breath as he reaches over and takes my hand.
It’s not the answer I want, but there’s steel in his voice I can’t argue with. Still, a knot forms in my stomach because I know exactly what wars like this cost. It’s already claimed my father, and I’m starting to doubt that even Maximo, despite all his power and control, will come out whole.
Sunday passes in a blur of frantic activity as more men arrive at the estate. They come in all kinds of vehicles from sleek foreign sports cars to box trucks from which I can see them unloading crates of weapons out in the yard. Enzo and Maximo move through the house like men on a mission, in constant motion as they direct the mass of traffic surging through the halls.
It’s late, well after midnight, before Maximo finally comes to bed. Even though I haven’t slept in the guest bed the last few nights, he seems surprised to see me when he trudges wearily into the bedroom.
“There you are.” A tired smile warms his face. “I needed to see you.”
“Did something happen?” I ask, setting my book down in my lap.
“No, nothing. Today was a good day for us, overall. Paul had some trouble getting in touch with our lawyers on a Sunday, but I made a few calls and straightened that out. They’ll try to get our men in front of a magistrate and get bond tomorrow. We’ve reinforced our crews and got them out on the streets making sure the Russians don’t light any more fires or cause any other disruptions.”
“What are you planning to do about the mayor and his ‘anti-corruption’ efforts? Having him direct the police against your interests while playing favorites for the Russians is going to put you in an impossible situation.”
“It’s a problem,” Maximo concedes as he gets undressed and slides into bed beside me. “But I think I may have a solution in mind.”
