Page 43 of Captive Rival: Armani
“Clayton. Talk to me. What’s with the lack of updates?”
I’m downstairs now, in the first floor office. The door and windows are closed, but I turn on the radio for an extra layer of privacy. You never know who might be eavesdropping, intentionally or not.
“I was waiting to hear back from a contact,” Clayton says, “but he’s been MIA for a few days.”
“Shit. That’s not a good sign,” I say gravely, feeling the hair on the back of my neck rise.
“Nope. Not good at all.”
Pacing in front of the window, I ask, “Who was the guy?”
He hesitates, and then says, “Our Bratva go-between. Or at least, he was supposed to be.”
“Fuck.” I huff out a breath. “Why the hell wasn’t I informed when you got him on our side?”
“Because he wasn’t on our side yet. That’s why.”
“Money talks, man. We could’ve paid him plenty enough rubles to turn on the Bratva.”
“The offer I made him was more than generous. But it’s not about money, nor loyalty,” Clayton says. “The Bratva has no code. They’re feral. So if our guy did walk away, it’s likely for reasons of self-preservation.”
“Right. Or more likely they just killed him,” I point out pragmatically.
“Could be. Or could be he got paranoid, or something he heard or saw spooked him. Could be the Russians got wind he’d been cozying up to an outsider and they roughed him up or relocated him.”
“I highly doubt they ‘relocated’ him,” I scoff. “Unless it was to a shallow grave.”
Clayton lets out a dark chuckle and then gets serious again. “Either way, the odds are that we’ve lost our inside man. Meanwhile, the unholy union between the Brunos and the Bratva seems to be moving forward. Last thing I heard from my missing contact, the parties involved were discussing a possible meeting in NYC. Nothing firmed up yet, but obviously my intel’s out of date now.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sink into the chair behind the desk and take a deep breath. My adrenaline is pumping, the blood rushing in my ears.
“We need to find someone else then, and fast,” I say.
“I’m working on it.”
“Work faster,” I snap. “That meeting might’ve already happened by now.”
“Aye, it might have,” he says dryly. “But it’s not like we were going to stop it from happening, were we? If we’re fucked, we’re fucked. How’ve things been going on your end, by the way?”
“I met with our Sicilian allies and the Marzellos from Trieste. None of them want to see the Brunos form this union. But with the Bratva at play, they’re reluctant to get involved.”
Clayton makes a sound of disgust, but I can understand where the other families are coming from. The combination of the Brunos and the Russian mob isn’t something to be taken lightly. Even so, I know full well that without the protection of other families, Bruno will have the upper hand on us. My brothers and I can’t stand alone against such a force. There’s simply no way. We don’t have a big enough arsenal, and we don’t have the manpower.
My gut clenches to think about being at the Brunos’ mercy.
Never.
“Regardless of their hesitation,” I go on, “I won’t stop until they see it my way. And I already told them that if the Bellantis go down, any of them are just as likely to be next—except that each toppled family leaves fewer reinforcements with which to fight back against our mutual enemies.”
“They’d better come around real soon,” Clayton says. “Who knows how long it’ll be before the shit hits the proverbial fan? You sure you don’t want to fly me out to go calling on them? I can be very persuasive, as you know.”
“It won’t do us any good,” I tell him. “All the Italian families are well protected, so they’re not going to feel threatened by us. Plus, we don’t want to make things ugly. As for bribes, they’re wealthy enough on their own. There’s nothing we can offer them that’d sway them over to our side.”
“I don’t understand. These are your family’s allies,” he points out. “Isn’t this the time for them to step up? Sure, the Russians are scary, but Italians are supposed to be honorable.”
“They are. Which is why I’m confident they’ll come around,” I say. “Well. Mostly confident.”
“Let’s hope that confidence isn’t misplaced, then.”
