Page 20 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Officer Stewart had the pen poised over his handheld notebook. “Can you think of anyone who had motive to do this?”

It was only because his father had given him so much painful training that Nikolai’s face didn’t betray him.

Because he knew exactly who had done this. Who had paid a handful of masked men to break in and pull the plug on his surveillance cameras just before the building had exploded.

First responders said the cause of the explosion was a gas leak. Nikolai's security footage told a different story.

But in the end, the result was the same. His jewelry store, Lucky Clover, and the two residential buildings on either side of him had been blown to hell.

The emergency ringtone had yanked Nikolai out of a dead sleep around three in the morning. By the time he’d arrived, the entire street was blocked off. Fire and police cars littered the area, and news crews were bunched just beyond the tape, snapping pictures.

Three people had been rushed to the hospital. No one had been inside Lucky Clover, but two men and a woman in the residential buildings next door had been hurt.

“I don’t,” Nikolai gritted out. He was angry, angrier than he could ever remember being, but at least he didn’t need to hide that. Anyone would be furious looking at something like this, knowing that it hadn’t been an accident. “If you are hearing something, let me know.”

Nikolai had never interacted with this officer before, but he still watched the man nod knowingly and scribble on the notepad.

“Will do. You’ll have someone send down what surveillance video you have?” The officer asked.

“Yes. My assistant, Meredith, she will bring it tomorrow. Later today. When we have…” Nikolai gestured vaguely. The anger was so thick it was hard to think. All he wanted to do was punch something. Wrap his hands around Vitale’s neck and—

The officer nodded, stepping back. “Thank you Mr. Tkachenko,” he said. “When all of this has settled, come down to the precinct so we can get a detective to take the rest of the information.”

Nikolai thanked the officer and turned away.

He could see the news reporters itching to talk to him.

Alex and Pyotr were standing inside the tape, making sure that no one else tried to intrude on the scene.

He wished Gerard were here, but he was needed across town, putting eyes on the rest of their properties, making sure there wasn’t another hit.

Nikolai walked toward the blown building just to get a moment of privacy.

His jaw was tight, his teeth grinding against each other.

A look at his watch told him it was almost five in the morning now.

He’d been here for two hours, and the situation wasn’t getting any better.

The fire was out now, the emergency workers double-checking to make sure there were no additional safety issues, but everything was a mess.

What had once been a small jewelry store was now a hole in the ground, a hollow shell of its former self. There were bricks and insulation and glass littering the street. Shards of mangled jewelry lay in the rubbish.

It was a huge, expensive fuck you from Vitale.

Nikolai had been fielding tantrums from the man all week, but those had been small and expected.

He’d had a shipment of metal almost go missing, a petty smash and grab at one of the other stores, and one of his suppliers had stopped answering his messages.

All of it had Vitale’s filthy fingerprints on it. He’d been sporadically sending Nikolai messages all week, threats to “give him back what was his, before it got worse.”

Bargaining wasn’t working and it was infuriating .

It was one thing for Vitale to fuck with Nikolai. It was another to blow up a goddamn building. Vitale had not only caused damage and injury to innocent bystanders, but he’d gotten the cops involved.

In their line of work, that just wasn’t done. Something that grabbed a headline was inviting scrutiny, and it was akin to mutually assured destruction when you were operating businesses skirting tax codes and import laws.

Nikolai knew Vitale was pissed, but he didn’t understand why his reaction was so goddamn disproportionate.

It wasn’t like the threatening texts he was sending to Nikolai were even really about Brooks .

When Nikolai read them, they sounded like a spoiled child angry his toy had been taken away.

A child who was throwing a tantrum, with no thought to the repercussions.

Maybe that was part of why Nikolai was so angry. He hadn’t foreseen this outcome. In all his planning, even the worst case scenarios hadn’t accounted for Vitale acting like a child . Involving the cops .

He’d been led to believe Vitale was spoiled, but also a capable businessman. That he’d been raised under the guidance and rules of his family just as Nikolai had. Vitale was supposed to be the next head of his family.

So what the fuck was he doing involving the cops?

It killed Nikolai that innocent parties had been hurt. Killed him that he was partially to blame. This was not what they’d planned for. Kidnapping Brooks was supposed to be the easiest, cleanest way to cut Vitale down, to strong-arm him into shutting down his seediest ventures.

How had it gone so wrong? They’d done so much surveillance, paid for so much information. Vitale was jealous, possessive, but this…

Nikolai stared at the ruins of the building. His insurance would cover all the inventory and the brick-and-mortar. They would lose the sales in the time it took him to open another shop, but this wasn’t going to devastate his bottom line. He’d be fine in that capacity.

The worst of it was the innocent people caught in the crossfire, and the attention of the police.

Because now, along with tightening his security, he’d have to go downtown and talk to the uniforms. They’d both have to sit there and pretend like they didn’t know something else was going on, like Nikolai wasn’t lying straight to their faces.

Arresting Vitale wasn’t in the cards, even if Nikolai gave them everything. Whatever was to be done, it wouldn’t involve the courts and justice system. Nikolai knew that perfectly well.

Now he was beginning to wonder if the solution to the Mattia Vitale problem needed to be more permanent.

He’d need to talk it out with Gerard and Meredith later when he was feeling less bloodthirsty. When he could have a better idea of what the fallout would be if Nikolai made it personal. Permanent.

Because if one was going to cut the head off the snake, it was best first to make sure it wasn’t a hydra.

***

Before Nikolai got back home, his phone buzzed with a message from Meredith. She’d gone to the hospital to check on the neighbors, which Nikolai was grateful for.

He swiped open the message as he climbed out of the car, thanking his driver, Horace. Horace was newish to Nikolai’s team, and the man was as silent as they came, which Nikolai appreciated at a time like this. Alex and Pyotr were staying at the crime scene to monitor it.

The texts from Meredith said the woman was currently in critical condition. She’d taken a piece of shrapnel to something vital, and the doctors were working to save her life.

The anger Nikolai had managed to tamp down on flared back to life. He shoved his phone back in his pocket so he wouldn’t throw it.

Fucking Vitale.

Fucking himself .

His father had spent a lot of time in his adolescence trying to beat the empathy out of him.

Nikolai wasn’t upset that that lesson had never taken.

It was a part of why he’d pivoted from the “family business.” Sure, he still did his father’s dirty work, but Nikolai’s businesses didn’t involve drugs or people. He hated innocent people getting hurt.

This whole thing was because he was trying to avoid innocent people getting hurt.

His neighbors were nice people. Nikolai always made it a point to be friendly, to make sure his neighbors understood who was operating next door to them. That if they had any problems, saw anything questionable going on, that they’d come directly to him. He’d handle it.

It had worked out well up until now. Nikolai maintained the street with his money, made sure vital repairs were done. In return, his neighbors gave him a heads up when they noticed suspicious cars or loitering or had heard any rumors related to him.

But now one of them might die. Might die because of the decisions Nikolai had made.

No. Because of what Vitale had done.

His hands curled into fists as he stomped up the steps and into the house. It was almost sunrise, and he had a long, long day ahead of him. There were fires to put out, staff to relocate, the cops to handle.

Fucking Vitale. All of this because he didn’t want to negotiate over getting Brooks safely returned to him?

Automatically, as if drawn to the cause of all this mess, his legs took him in the direction of Brooks’s bedroom, all the while his thoughts kept circling like sharks.

Who blew up a fucking building?

That wasn’t the kind of game they were supposed to be playing.

Now they were in some real shit. Kidnapping, arson, and potentially homicide.

It reminded Nikolai too much of his youth.

Being in that house, seeing all that pain and suffering up close, the brutality with which his father ran his empire, Nikolai never wanted to be that.

He’d taken so, so many steps not to be that.

This was supposed to be simple, like toppling a poorly constructed house of cards. He’d just needed to send a sign that he wasn’t going to tolerate that kind of business in his city.

Now a woman’s life was on the line.

Without thinking, Nikolai unbolted the door to the bedroom and threw it open with a bang.

There were no lights on in the room and the curtains had been drawn, so it was only the light coming in behind him that allowed him to see into the room. Brooks had startled up in bed at the noise, crying out when he saw Nikolai in the doorway.