Page 22 of Devious Corruption

Vas laughs. “He gets that look on his face when he does. Like he’s ready to blow a hole through someone’s chest.”

“From what Vee said, she’s not fond of you.”

“How can she be fond of me or not? She doesn’t know me.”

“No, but in the few times you’ve been around her, you’ve insulted her apartment, and then you made her leave that nightclub. I heard Vee on the phone with her the day after. Called you…oh what was it…an arrogant ass.” He pauses to flash another grin. “That’s what it was, an arrogant ass.”

“Not very creative.” I finish the rest of my drink. “Instead of talking about a woman who has nothing to do with anything, how about you tell me what you came down here to tell me?”

Kaz’s expression changes like the wind, getting right down to business.

“The warehouse on the river has extra security, but with the DeAngelos setting a fucking match to everything they can get their hands on, we wouldn’t be insulted if you wanted to move your shipments up north for the time being.”

“We don’t have anything coming through for a few months yet. We’ll see how things go.” This war between the Volkovs and DeAngelos isn’t good for business, especially since the Italians don’t seem interested in keeping it only between them.

I’ve known Alexander, the oldest of the brothers, since we were kids. Our fathers worked closely. When his father died and Alexander took the reins, he had enough backing that he could have tried to push me to align with him. To bend the knee. He didn’t.

For that reason, I give my full trust to them. I won’t turn my back on them. And my alliance with them puts a target on my back for the Italians. Already, they’ve taken out Rurik’s storage facility because it had ties to the Volkovs. They could easily start targeting my distribution lines.

It would be a foolish thing to do; my backing extends beyond the Volkovs. I have connections in all the major cities and even some back home in Russia. To fuck with me would bring down more hell than they could deal with.

But the DeAngelo family has never been accused of being overly smart. Especially when it comes to business dealings. Every fire they set, they see a hit to their business twice the damage. It would be wise for them to cut their losses and come to the table to negotiate a truce.

“How’s your shoulder?” I pour a drink for myself, and offer one to Kaz, who takes it.

He rolls his shoulder back and forth. “Fit as ever.”

If I hadn’t known him from the time the boy was in diapers, I would have missed the small wince of pain when he moved. He took a bullet a few weeks back, another shot from the DeAngelo camp.

“Seems like.”

“Sorry, to interrupt, but Kaz? You said to meet you when I was done. I’m off now.” A woman dressed in the Obsidian’s uniform stands in the open doorway of the game room.

When Kaz turns his head toward her, she lowers her chin to her chest and looks up at him through her lashes. His eyebrow raises. I’m close enough that I hear the low rumble in his chest.

“What happened to Ivan’s dictate about dating the staff?” I ask.

He pushes up from his chair, grabs my drink and downs it.

“My brother lost all credibility when he moved one of the waitresses into his home.” He slaps my shoulder. “Talk to you later.”

I laugh as he saunters from the room, snagging the girl’s hand as he passes her and pulling her along with him.

“One of these days he’s going to find a woman that’s not going to leave his bed so easily.” Vas chuckles.

“Kaz is never going to settle down.” I push my now-empty glass aside and pick up my phone. “Deal another hand.”

“Anything from Sasha?” Vas questions as he shuffles the cards.

“Not yet.” I scroll through messages, then pull up my contact list. My finger hovers over Maxine’s contact.

“The Armenian’s have never tried to move in on us before; why would they start now?”

“Vartan Petrosyan is getting old. Rumor is he’s dying of cancer, and his son is making a push to take over. While Vartan was smart enough not to encroach on our territory, his son will want to make a show of having a set of steel balls.”

“Levon?” Vas huffs. “He’s a pissant. Vartan would do better to name a successor that’s outside his bloodline if he wants to keep the organization from caving in on itself.”

“Yes. You should suggest it to him the next time yousee him. Though I’m not sure you would be able to say much with your tongue cut out, hanging by your toes.” Vartan might be on the road to the grave, but his hatred for us is as strong as ever.