Page 16 of The Devil's Reward
It’s time to get my plan underway. The bloodier, the better.
My office is quiet as I work. I hate noise and interruptions, and my men know better than to disturb me unless it’s urgent. Which is why when my phone rings, I have to bite back a snarl of annoyance. When I pick it up, I bark, “What?”
Daria merely replies, “Zakhar is on the phone for you.” Then she patches him through. No one keeps the Pahkan’s right-hand man waiting.
“Zakhar,” I reply briskly, sitting back in my chair. Most men would be uneasy to have someone like Zakhar call, but seeing as he’s my uncle, well, I’m not most.
“Dmitri,” he replies, his voice the same raspy sound it’s been all my life. “I hear you are having trouble.”
I stiffen at his words. Someone has been reporting to those higher up the chain, and when I find out who, I will make sure it never happens again. First, I’ll cut out his tongue, and then, once my mercy has worn thin, I’ll kill him. “Is that so?” I ask casually. “Your information is incorrect, Uncle. I have already forwarded my reports to you, and as you can see, we are doing far better than we could have hoped at this point in our operation.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the numbers,” he agrees. “And you are right, the numbers are looking good. Your operation has secured us a straightforward route over the border and into the lower states. The Pakhan is happy with this, Nephew, but there is a matter of a certain motorcycle club that has come to our attention.” His voice hardens. “Is it true that you are doing business with these fuckers?”
I seethe as I quickly run through the people who are aware of my dealings with this club. Well, one particular member of this club. It seems I could have more than one rat in my house. A rat that will be trapped and dropped into the ocean at the soonest opportunity. “Your information is incorrect, Uncle,” I repeat smoothly. “I am in the process of eliminating the club.”
“Hmmm,” is all he says, but I know my uncle well enough to know he’s sitting at his desk, thinking. No doubt reviewing whatever information his informant has given him and trying to decide who is lying. His own blood, or his informant? Our family is big on blood, so it won’t be me he’ll doubt. Finally, after a few long moments of silence, he says, “The Pakhan wants them dealt with and out of the way. You will make it happen. I have sent someone to ensure that you do.”
My entire body goes rigid and I fight to keep my breathing even. “Who is coming, Uncle?” I ask carefully.
“He’ll arrive by the end of day tomorrow. You have a lot of promise, Nephew, so don’t fuck it up. Blood or not, you are still proving yourself, and if you fuck up, well, it would be a grave disappointment. Your father would roll over in his grave.”
A grave I put him in, I seethe.And one I’ll gladly put you in with him. “Alright, Uncle,” I say instead. “How are Aunt Velika and the children?” My uncle is currently on his third wife, having killed the other two when they only gave him daughters and not sons. Though he claims they became ill, no one believes that.
Velika is thirty years younger than my Uncle, but she has given him three sons, so she does not need to fear death as long as she keeps my uncle happy. From what I have seen, she is just as bloodthirsty, and he didn’t bat an eye when she killed one of his daughters for daring to look at her wrong. The other girls are now married off and out of the house, but I doubt their lives are much easier.
As my uncle tells me all about his son’s latest achievements, I take another phone from the drawer and begin hunting my traitor. First, however, there is one other problem I need to get under control.
My uncle is sending me a babysitter, and I’m bringing in another guest that will gladly help me take care of them if they get in my way. Bloodshed in our organization is par for the course, so even if my uncle disapproves, there will be nothing he can do about it. Especially because soon enough, I’m going to be running this part of the empire, and I plan on taking my uncle’s seat at the top. I just have to get all the pieces into place.
ELEVEN
QUINN
I miss my family.
“It’s not funny,” I growl into the phone, ignoring my pouting daughter as she picks at her food and gives me what I’m sure she thinks are sly glares. I don’t need to be a genius to know that my daughter is currently plotting my demise, as well as how to liberate the bag of chips from my purse.
My mother is currently laughing her butt off, with my father joining in the background. I called to scold my father for what he said to Macy, who has now used that advice to coerce contraband out of a large, and far too good looking, biker. If she did it with him, then it’s only a matter of time before she tries it with someone else, and not all men are as good natured as Shadow.
“That’s my girl!” my father cheers in the background. “Keeping those boys in their place and on their toes. By the time she hits high school, she’ll be crushing hearts left, right, and center.”
“With all the grace and beauty of her mother too,” my mother adds, making me roll my eyes. I swear to God, sometimes I wonder if I’m adopted. Between them and my older sister Peyton, they haveI-don’t-give-a-shitconfidence in spades. I think by the time I came along, the well had run dry, which is why I ended up the shy, awkward one, while my sister was the popular, social one.
Still, growing up, we always knew that if we had a problem, we could go to our parents, no matter what. They never judged and only encouraged us. Sometimes a little too much, but they meant well, so I don’t hold it against them. Hell, I remember the time that Peyton came home and outright announced she had just lost her virginity to the high school football captain. My parents just stared at her, and I was sure they were about to blow up. Nope. They sat her down to ask her if she was okay, had been safe, and wasn’t pressured into anything.
The whole shotgun dad stereotype? Yeah, that’s not my father. He merely told the boy in question that if he hurt Peyton, he would haul his gun out from under the bed, but until then, he best make sure he was protecting them both, and they wouldn’t have a problem.
I don’t know that I’ll ever be that calm and reasonable with Macy. God, she already acts so much like Peyton. I don’t know how I’m going to survive her teenage years.
“I told you Grandpa would be proud of me,” Macy says loudly and righteously from the table, making me turn and narrow my eyes at her. She holds my glare for a few seconds of defiance before she looks away and hunches her shoulders.
“I don’t care if Grandpa is proud of you,” I say just as loudly and pointedly. “You know better than to talk to strangers, Macy, and you shouldn’t have done it.”
“He had the same logo on his vest as the wall, so I thought he worked there,” she defended.
“Quinn,” my mother says calmly, pulling my attention back to her. “No harm was done, and from what it sounds like, Macy made a new friend. And you said that it’s the same man you’re dealing with through work, so it’s nothing to worry about.”
“I didn’t know that at the time though,” I argue. “Look, Dad, please just watch your words next time. Macy is five, not fifteen and there is no need to worry about keeping boys on their toes at this age. She needs to focus on chasing them around the playground and learning to be nice to them in the classroom.”
