Page 20

Chapter twenty

The Level Boardroom

December 2023

Hunter

Damon and I sit around the boardroom table waiting for the others to reward us with their presence. I look at my watch again, infuriated at being kept waiting by the men whose wages I pay.

“Where the fuck are they?” I mutter. Damon takes his nose out of his phone for a few seconds, glances at me, smirks, and then returns to whatever he is doing. “Any idea what this shit is about?”

“Work,” he says, blandly. He rolls his eyes as if I’m fucking stupid for asking.

Since my friends have started marrying off and spawning children, all of our time spent here is for work. In years gone by, we came here to collaborate and party. Wednesday nights were boy’s nights, but now that feels like a time long gone. Life’s changing for us all. “Somewhere else you’d rather be?” The smirk which disappeared moments before returns then morphs into a full grin.

“I promised Bella…”

“Promised Bella what?” Russell asks as he catches the end of the conversation as he arrives. “Your eternal loyalty? Your ass? Your worship forever more?” His voice booms, echoing off the slick walls and windows. Harrison and Connor walk in behind him, not a smile between them. An uneasiness squeezes my chest when they don’t join in with Russell’s jibes. Usually, one person starting the piss-take results in them all joining in.

“To go out for the afternoon,” I say, completely distracted by the other men’s expressions.

“Where?” Russell continues, probing for more information he can tease me with.

“Christmas shopping.” This makes him bellow with laughter. I can almost see him imagining the scene in front of his eyes—Hunter Devane domesticated. The idea isn’t repulsive at all. Perhaps being a husband and father who does normal things could be refreshing. I was keen enough to jump at the chance to accompany Isabella on her mission to find the perfect presents for her family.

“You? Shopping? Like in fucking public?” He wipes at his eyes as tears begin to fall. “Hunter Devane has been collared, boys. He’s dead meat.”

“Shut up, Russ,” Harrison barks, taking everyone by surprise. Damon sits up a little straighter in his chair, his interest now piqued by the scene unfolding. “Right now, Christmas shopping is the last thing on my fucking mind. Violet and Evie will be lucky to get a chocolate Santa at this rate with the volume of shit on my desk.”

“It wasn’t you going shopping,” Russell states, petulant. He channels his inner teenager, almost pouting at being scolded by his brother-in-law. “I was just messing…”

Harrison takes a breath, then runs a hand through his hair. He looks nervous, more uncertain than I’ve ever seen him in all the years we’ve worked together. Something is very wrong, and he is considering how to tell us. I don’t like that.

Time passes and it only annoys me more. I hate when people sit on information and don’t level with me. Nothing can be fixed without having a handle on the problem, and my instincts tell me we have a fucking monumental one today.

“Spit it out, Waite,” I snap, losing patience. “What could be so bad that you’re standing there like a lost boy?”

“The container ship is missing,” he says, deadpan, and my stomach sinks to my toes. Hell, of all the things that could have come out his mouth, that wasn’t what I expected. “Somewhere between Tangier and St. Petersburg. They were three days into the voyage, and it’s gone.”

This new knowledge makes Damon shoot to his feet. He pulls out his phone and starts blindly-tapping the screen. He lifts it to his ear, I assume attempting to call our men on deck. When the call isn’t answered, he picks a different contact and tries again.

“I spoke to them six hours ago,” Damon declares.

Harrison watches him, then walks over to the fridge and pulls out five beers, passing us each one. Connor, who hasn’t said anything yet, throws himself in a chair. Russell, who looks completely unfazed by the news, simply opens and drinks his bottle. Damon is still frantically trying to contact those on board, but deep down, I know his attempts are futile.

“Pirates?” I suggest. The oceans are dangerous places, and even though most modern-day pirates tend to focus on Somalia or Indonesia, it isn’t far-fetched to think they may work in other waters.

“Unlikely,” Connor says, finally joining it the conversation. “I very much doubt whoever has taken our ship has done so through pure luck. Pirates tend to board, grab what they can, then run.”

“Plus,” Harrison continues. “The tracking system has been completely deactivated. All mobile phones are switched off. This isn’t a by-chance operation; it’s been planned. Staged even. Whoever did this has a deep understanding of what we are doing. This was targeted.”

“And we are sure the ship hasn’t gone down?” Damon butts in, after finally giving up attempting to contact anyone on board.

“The chances of us losing two ships to the ocean bed is almost zero, especially one after the other,” Harrison advises. “It’s literally fallen off the grid, and that’s a sign of something planned.”

“Has it been confirmed the other ship actually sank?” Connor asks.

“The information garnered from the black box on board suggests that it did, but the wreck hasn’t been located.”

Russell, who has been listening but showing little interest, returns to the fridge and removes more drinks. He grabs an ice bucket then scoops ice from the machine into it before arranging the beers inside. Once happy with his artwork, he places it on the center of the table.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “This is bad. The relationship with Rodion will be shit enough without this.” My flippant comment makes Harrison straighten slightly, and he pins me with a stare. I’ve been keeping something from them all while I finalized the arrangements for one of the biggest business deals I will make in my life. They’re all going to be furious.

“What do you mean, will be shit enough?” he snarls, immediately realizing I’ve been limiting information. “What the fuck have you done?”

Everyone looks between each other, assessing whether anyone else knows what the hidden information is. None of them do. I didn’t even tell Damon, and he is possibly my closest friend. It was too important not to seal the arrangement before risking it becoming public knowledge.

“My niece is getting married,” I announce, pushing myself up to stand.

“The insane one?” Russell asks, settling himself back in his chair with a drink. “The one that’s forever causing problems?”

“The very same. Tilly is engaged to be married to Domenico Lombardi.” That fact stuns them all to silence. The Lombardi family and my own have had tense ties for decades. Based in Italy, they are possibly the most influential family in Europe within our circles. An allegiance between them and us will be nothing short of nuclear. We will be unstoppable.

“Is he not like seventy?” Harrison says, rubbing at his brow. His question regains my attention from the idealistic draw of power. “And Tilly is what? Twenty?”

“She’s twenty-two.” I shrug, unworried by his clear disgust at the arrangements I’m in the process of making. This is part of the reason I never told my friends my plan; they wouldn’t agree and they would let me know. I didn’t need their permission. We all work in this underworld, but none of them come from a family like I do. They’ve had their challenges, but the expectation to marry well hasn’t defined their lives.

“That’s a dick move,” Russell says. He angles his bottle in my direction. “You are an absolute cock.”

“Arranged marriage has been part of my family’s culture for decades. Tilly always knew her union would be a mutually beneficial one. Lombardi still doesn’t have an heir; he needs a young wife to provide one. I was happy to oblige.”

“And what are you getting in return?” Connor asks, dragging the full fucking issue into the light. “And…” he adds before I can speak. “Why will that fuck off the Russians?”

Resigned to having to show my hand before I wanted to, I gesture to the bucket of beer in the center of the table. “Very well, pass me another beer and I’ll tell you all.” Connor plucks a bottle from its resting place, then tosses it to me. It flies through the air, and I catch it masterfully, then place it on the surface to settle.

Damon, who was sitting silently while this whole conversation was taking place, glowers at me. He’s going to be pissed that I didn’t let him in on my plan. He’s going to be even more jacked off about the increased danger we will be in, considering the container has now gone missing. His job just got harder.

“Rodion,” I begin, “and the Anastasov Family in general, have suggested that Tilly should be married to one of them. I rejected the suggestion.” Everyone stares at me wordless, comprehending what I’m saying in real time. “I don’t trust them, and even though we work together, marrying my niece off to them seemed wrong.”

“But marrying her off to a seventy-year-old man is okay?” Damon snarls, clearly furious with my deception. Choosing one family over the other was always going to have consequences—how we navigate them should be the focus, not how it happened.

“It’s business.” I shrug my shoulders again, unsure how to explain my thought process anymore. They wouldn’t understand. “And Rodion is also Tilly’s cousin, so when he was specifically suggested as a potential suitor, I shot that down.”

“Well, no fucking wonder he’s getting pissy about the containers then,” Russell bellows, laughing as he does. His face is lit up with excitement; he always loves when things get complicated. It keeps him amused as everyone scrambles to save whatever situation we are in. “You’re a fuckwit, Devane, more than capable of creating plenty of enemies on your own. Working with you is never boring.”

“When are they expecting delivery of these cars?” I ask, ignoring Russell completely. I can’t be arsed with his idiocy today. My carefully laid plans, which I hoped to be executing with no issues, are falling to pieces.

“Within the week,” Damon tells me, his tone grave. “And you haven’t answered the question of what is in it for you. What does marrying Tilly off to the Lombardis get you beyond a less fragile alliance?”

“Men,” I say, bluntly. “Lombardi is struggling to maintain a foothold in London. I give him Tilly and he gives me his men on the ground in London.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Damon snaps. “You want to bring infiltrators into the ranks? Men who could run information to fuck knows who?”

“I want to grow, McKinney. And to do that we need power, men, and people with influence worldwide. The Lombardi family is one of the oldest. They have people in legal systems, judiciary positions, and financial sectors all over the globe. This isn’t my first tea party.”

“No, but I think you’ve lost your fucking mind. You may have created an alliance, Hunter, but you’ve made the enemy we were already scrambling to manage more dangerous. The Russians will not only want payback for the promised vehicles, but also for Tilly.”

“Just find the fucking ship,” I roar, pissed at being attacked. I push myself up to stand, then turn and stride over to the elevator. Damon moves to follow me. “Don’t fucking think about it, McKinney. Stay here and help them find my cars, then you will have one less thing to worry about.”

My journey back to the house is subdued. I sit in the rear of my car, mulling over the complexities of the coming weeks. We as a team have danger coming from all sides. Our Russian customers haven’t been happy with our inability to provide the stock they ordered. They will be further enraged by my rejection of their marriage proposal between Rodion and Tilly, which will be compounded by the arrangement I have made.

Then there is the perpetual thorn in our side that is Menzies, the cop still in the force that is constantly popping up when we least expect it. He made his wishes clear to take not only Damon, but myself and my friends down by any means necessary. Two enemies, unconnected, but both with the power to cause me inconvenience if not harm. Both could implode my life just when it’s starting to get on track.

For once, the idea of things getting complicated isn’t comforting. Before Isabella returned to my side, I breathed chaos. Now, there’s a certain wonderment about normalcy, and deep down I think I need it.