Page 78 of Deadly Knight

“It does if you want my help. Consider me interested.”

Gritting my teeth, I feed him as little information as I can, hoping he accepts. “He’s harmed people I care about. My girl. My cousin. My organization. Therefore, he’s an enemy to the Bratva, and one that must be put down.”

Rafael snorts before taking a few swigs from his bottle. “Sounds like a piece of work. I’d want him dead too.”

“So you’ll help?”

Nico hums. “Protecting those you care about is admirable.”

Rafael leans into the table, lowering his voice. “He’s not lying. This moron”—he gestures to Nico—“got himself sold out by his wife, before they were even together, to his enemy in exchange for her sister’s freedom. Thus, protecting the one she cared about, and that only made him love her more.”

Nico smacks his brother on the back of his head. “Raf, shut up.Mais oui”—his attention slides to me—“as my brother so unwisely disclosed, that is a good example. Unfortunately, Mr. Volkov, there’s nothing I want or need that you can offer me.”

I’m not letting this opportunity slip through my fingers. “A future deal then. At a time and place of your choosing. You can request anything.”

Rafael whistles, leaning back, but his brother remains a statue. A statue that only reacts when his brother nudges him.

“That’s a compelling offer,” Nico finally replies in a monotone voice, “and one I’m tempted to accept. I looked you up, Mr. Volkov. You have quite a…particular way of handling business.”

“He means, you kill people with such grace,” Rafael interjects with a sly grin, earning a punch to his ribs.

The paper of the five names, four crossed off, feels heavy in my pocket. They’ve all been local kills, so the fact Corsetti was able to learn about them says a lot about this man’s abilities—which might be worrisome one day.

“You have someone you need gone?”

“No. Not right now, anyway. But perhaps in the future, you might be useful.”

“Deal,” I agree without a beat. Easy deal. A job of his choosing in exchange for assistance is too good to pass up. Especially when every second of this conversation means Ivan might be slipping farther away.

Nico reaches across the table to shake my hand, eyeing the ribbon around my wrist, which doesn’t match the rest of my outfit. If only he understood what was beneath the ribbon, then he might get it. “I should warn you, if your father passes the border into the U.S., I won’t be able to get him. That isn’t my territory.”

“Vanessa has requested help from theFamiglia. You might be aware of past complications she and Erico have faced together. I’m sure that was once a conversation between your wife and his own, considering they’re sisters.”

Rafael straightens, his gaze narrowing, and all previous friendliness melts away, but Nico merely smirks. “The Bratva does their homework. Yes, theFamigliaand I share common interests, so take that as a sign not to piss either one of us off.” He pauses, head tilting slightly. “With all these bases covered, finding your father must be very important.”

“As I’ve said, he’s fucked with my girl, my Pakhan, and the Bratva. Is there any further reason you’d need if you were in my shoes?”

“Maybe that was my way of asking for the story.”

“It’s not any of your business.”

“You’re making it our business.”

Realistically, he’s doing no less than I would. Before getting involved in a war, I’d want to know all the details.

“Fine. Vanessa took over for her father after Rossi shot him, but given that she’s female, it wasn’t without her own battles. My father challenged her claim to leadership because he wanted me to take it, and himself as an extension. He hasn’t respected the way of the Bratva time and time again and betrayed us to our enemies, all to get rid of her. He’s used the woman I love to continue his sick games. I chose her, he got away. Here we are.”

“Hm.” He taps a finger against his chin. “There’s more you’re not telling me.”

Rafael nudges Nico in his ribs. “Leave him alone. Can’t expect a stranger to divulge everything at the first meeting. Your father, what’s his name?”

“Ivan Volkov.”

Nico nods. “I’ll see it done. You can see yourself out.”

With another sip of the locally brewed beer—truthfully, it is tasty—I push away from the table and stride out of the club without a backwards glance.

The final piece is in play.