Page 52 of Bloody Savage God
Uncle Mario pushes his chair back. “There are some other matters we ought to discuss, niece. Like the Russians and what’s to be done about them. Why don’t we head to the office so we can discuss things?”
“Certainly,” I say, also getting up. To the men in the room I say, “Let’s all get together soon so we can run through some of the plans I have for each of you. I’ll message you individual meeting times to go over things.”
That gets me interested nods, and I leave the room following Uncle Mario feeling pretty optimistic, despite his audacity of leading the way in my own home.
As we enter my father’s office, my hand moves to stroke over the knife holster attached to my thigh. Despite the strange notion that I don’t necessarily want to kill my uncle, it’s not as if I’d be incapable, and depending on how this conversation goes, I’m prepared to do just that.
Chapter Eighteen
Mikhail
Myphonebuzzesagain,and I pull it out of my pocket to see it’s my sister. Again. My entire phone is full of messages and missed calls. Before leaving the hotel, Gianna returned it to me and I shot my dad a couple of texts to keep him appeased, but it looks like I can’t put this off any longer.
“What’s up, Anya.”
“Father is losing his goddamn mind, that’s what’s up. Where the hell have you been? I’ve done my best to cover for you and now he’s ordered us both in. Anyone else would get a bullet for the shit you’re pulling right now. You do realize you’re fucking me over alongside you, right? You’ve got to get your ass back here, Mikhail. Like, right this fucking minute.”
Well shit.
Anya is not a person to panic, but now she sounds like she’s about to pass out from anxiety, her voice breathless and higher pitched than usual. Still, I’m feeling reluctant to deal with my family while Gianna is in danger, and doesn’t that make guilt gnaw at that soft spot I have for my sister.
After Gianna left last night, I headed to my place, needing some time to plan. Plan how I’d make Gianna give up on the notion that I’m temporary, when I have no intention of leaving her. Ever. And plan how I’d deal with the people who are upsetting her. Because no one upsets my woman and gets away with it. And then there is also the issue of someone, likely her uncle, pulling me into this mess. That requires retaliation.
None of those things are compatible with my position in my own family’s organization. At least not if I’m unwilling to give up on Gianna. And there isn’t a fucking chance in hell that will ever happen.
“Yeah, I’ll head over now.” I don’t have to ask where my father is.
Twenty minutes later, I enter the strip club, where my father’s office and Bratva headquarters take up the upper levels of the building. It’s similar to the setup we have in Flemingdon Park, except that this club is larger and has significantly more security.
I walk into the building, noting the free tables scattered around the three stages that take up the large main floor. During the day it isn’t as busy as it will be later on tonight, but there is still a decent amount of customers sitting in the booths, and I note several red lights above the doors to the private rooms where the girls make better money.
I don’t blame Anya for finding the clubs seedy as fuck, but it’s also good money, so I leave it to her to worry about the ethics of it all.
The stairs to the upper levels are hidden behind a door next to the bar that has a bigFor Staff Onlysign on it. Not that any drunk would get up to see my father, even if his double vision made it impossible to read a simple sign. Two men are positioned on the bottom of the stairs with semi automatics, ensuring even the deepest bottle isn’t enough to make someone dumb enough to walk past the two grunts my father posted here.
“Vlad, Dimitri,” I greet them, as I pass through. Neither of them smiles. They never do, even though I know from a few good rounds of drinking together that they don’t mind the boring work they do.
“Safe and pays well,” Dimitri had said.
“Better than having to shake down assholes,” had been Vlad’s addition to the conversation.
Let’s just say some men are more suited to mind-numbing work than others. Luckily the cameras and motion detectors mean there is more protection than these two, whom my sister has labeledthe scarecrows.
I had to give my father that. Whenhisfather kicked the bucket, the organization had been a shit show. Unorganized, splintered, and undisciplined. My father had a knack for giving people jobs they were well suited for, which meant people didn’t complain much and didn’t try to stab you in the back. Especially since business had boomed over the last decade, and even more so in recent years when we started to expand our stable of girls even further.
Of course, there was another side to his genius. The one I had inherited, while Anya received all his scheming genes. My father may be a good boss to those who did their part, but he is a savage maniac when someone doesn’t toe the line. And he has never cared more about his children than he does about the organization, which means I better approach this meeting like I would an interrogation by the fucking SVR.
Heading down the short hallway upstairs, I pause when I get to my father’s office, knocking before I enter. Neither one of his bodyguards so much as twitches a muscle at my approach, though I can see curiosity in their eyes, which is not a good sign.
My absence was definitely noted.
“Come in.” My father calls, his voice sounding hoarse.
These days, my father looks his age, if not older. Definitely weaker, though, and that is a fucked up kind of scary, even to a heartless asshole like myself.
His head swivels from the computer he was studying to watch me enter the room.
“Sit,” he orders and points at the chair across his desk. None of that physical weakness showed in his voice, helping me relax somewhat.
