Chapter 19

Noah~

W hen we'd made the arrangement to all meet, it'd been agreed upon that the O'Briens would pick the place to meet. Considering that we were the smallest in numbers, there was more of a threat to us than to the Kotovs or the Sartoris, so it'd been a reasonable demand, something that the others would have insisted upon also had the roles been reversed.

So, because Declan wasn't a fool, he had chosen the abandoned bed and breakfast that was only a few miles from his wife's cabin. Stockpiled like a goddamn military base, Keavy's childhood home was stacked to the gills with weapons that only the government should have access to, and after Declan and her had come to an understanding, they had agreed that her cabin would become the hub for the family's personal arsenal. To date, only Declan's brothers and my brothers knew about the cabin's cellar, and if the time ever came, then we'd tell our parents, but today wasn't that day.

There was also the fact that being seen together would be a bad thing for all three syndicates. With Cooper Donaldson's murder still fresh in the papers, the media kept mentioning his connection to the Olivers, and since it was Aurelio Provenza's wife that had killed Ashton Oliver, and it was our set-up that had brought down Stewart Oliver, it was best if no one saw any of us making nice. Yeah, we were in the clear for it all, but it was stupid to kick over a hornet's nest for no reason.

Luckily for us, though the bed and breakfast had been abandoned for years, the furniture remained, so we'd all taken our seats in the dining area, three of our most trusted guards from each syndicate outside, looking for any possible ambushes.

Now, while there were two tables in the dining area, Declan, Nero, and Avgust had chosen the smaller table, me and Declan on one side, Avgust and Maksim opposite of us, and Nero sitting at the head of the table, Aurelio standing behind him. While most people would view it as a power play, it wasn't. Nero had the information, so that was the ideal spot for him. As for Provenza, he rarely spoke unless he had to, and if he was standing behind his boss, it was because he didn't trust a motherfucker here, and good for him because he shouldn't.

"So, what did Morocco find out?" Declan asked, kicking off the meeting since he was the most personable of us all.

"Klive Simpson is an alias," Nero answered. "Now, while there are a few Klive Simpsons that exist, none of them are our guy. Morocco dug into every Klive Simpson in the US, and though not impossible, it's improbable that they'd be able to lead this kind of double life for what's going on."

"So, we know nothing," Avgust huffed.

Like a man that knew how he outnumbered both the Irish and the Russians, Nero just arched a brow his way. "If you feel like this meeting is a waste of time, then you're free to leave, Kotov."

"Lads, let's relax," I said evenly, not needing to be killed in a blaze of gunfire before I could get my wife to love me back. "Let the man finish, Kotov."

The man muttered something in Russian, making Declan say, "English, Avgust. There won't be any of that Russian or Italian shit at this table."

"Because you're suggesting that you don't understand Russian or Italian?" Maksim challenged.

Declan smirked. "I'm rusty."

"Oh, fer feck's sakes," I drawled out. "Nero, continue. Please, lad."

"Now, while Klive Simpson is an alias, Louie Manziel isn't," Nero finally went on. "After Declan shared his name with us, Morocco did a deep dive on the name, and learned a few interesting things about the man. First, he's German/Irish, which had us wondering if he was related to Emil Schultz and was trying to get revenge for what happened last year. However, while he was born a German/Irish, his father had abandoned Louie and his mother when Louie had been only three. One year later, his mother had died in a pedestrian accident, which left Louie to be raised by his Aunt Hannah and her husband, Artem Rostova."

"Well, would ye look at tha'," I remarked dryly.

"So, between the guy that we got last year, the two that the O'Briens got recently, and Louie Manziel, that's a lot of Russians in the picture," Nero surmised. "Of course, we can't know about the rest that hadn't been questioned, but that's still enough Russians to be concerning."

"Are you suggesting that we're involved in this?" Avgust asked, and it'd be our luck that he'd go off half-cocked because of the facts. Russians were nothing if not unpredictable, and you just never knew with Avgust Kotov."

"No," Nero answered. "I'm suggesting that they could be here for you or because of you."

"What's the difference?" Maksim asked.

"If they're here because of you, then that would suggest that they might want to join you," Nero explained. "However, if they're here for you, then you might have a bit of a problem on your hands, and they're just fucking with us as a distraction."

"Let's also not forget that Louie Manziel is just a pawn, regardless of what he might believe," Declan added.

"What makes you say that?" Nero asked.

"If Manziel was really Klive's right-hand man, then Klive would have advised him to use an alias as well," Declan answered. "However, since Louie Manziel is using his real name, then he's just another one of Klive's pawns, though he might not realize it."

"Well, I think that we can all agree that they're not here to join our family," Avgust said. "If they were, then they would have approached us already."

"Which means that this really must be personal, but we still don't know why," Maksim added.

"I have Morocco looking into Artem Rostova's family tree for more, but until we can get a picture of Klive Simpson, we're limited to nothing but supposition," Nero continued.

"It has to be personal, lads," I echoed. "Klive Simpson came here with only twenty men at his disposal. Unless his brain is damaged, he had to know that he'd be outnumbered." I leaned back in my chair. "My guess is that his men are disposable distractions in whatever game he's playing, and he couldn't care less about them, including Manziel. Honestly, Kotov, if I were you, I'd be looking at any new recruits you might have gotten in the past year or so. Without a real name or picture, Klive Simpson could be anyone, and where better to hide than in your enemy's bed? That's the last place anyone would look for you."

"By your count, then there's only four of them left, not including Klive, correct?" Avgust asked.

"As far as we know," Declan answered.

"If you catch any more, then I'd like them delivered for questioning," Avgust stated. "I'm not comfortable with the connection, though loose it may be."

"They're all yours," Nero replied evenly. "I have enough fucking headaches."

"Same here," Declan agreed.

Avgust grinned, and without the tattoos crawling up his neck or the deadness in his eyes, then you'd never guess that he was an unfeeling killing machine. Like people kept saying, evil didn't look like the monster that it was, and anyone looking at the six of us would think that we were just a bunch of businessmen at a boardroom meeting. Of course, without the guns, tattoos, and hate palpitating all over the place, but still.

"Yeah, I heard that married life can be a bit tricky," Avgust remarked like a dick.

"It keeps me on my toes," Declan grinned back. "You should try it, Kotov."

Something dark flashed in Avgust's hazel eyes before he said, "I think I'll pass."

"You might want to rethink that," Nero said as he stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. "My children will need someone to play with when they're older."

At that not-so-subtle reminder that our legacies needed to be handed down to our children in order to survive, Avgust said, "I don't need a wife to have children."

"No, you don't," Nero replied. "However, it helps whenever power is up for grabs."

"Yeah, I'll be sure to send you both invitations to the wedding when it happens," Maksim quipped like an asshole.

As Nero was taking his leave, I knew that it was killing Declan not to send his regards to Kasen Sartori, but we both knew that it wouldn't do well to look chummy with the Italians. Plus, if Declan didn't want Nero to overstep with Keavy, then Declan was going to have to back off. After all, no one needed to know that Keavy O'Brien was just as deadly as her husband.

When we all exited the building, everyone made their way to their respective vehicles, and once we were all safely nestled in our beds, I said, "I don't like it. If we let Kotov handle it on his own, it'll feel too much like we owe him."

"I agree," Declan replied easily. "However, we can't move on anything until we find out more, and I seriously doubt that we're going to find out more than what Morocco Carrisi was able to."

"What a clusterfuck," I muttered, my head dropping back on the seat, missing my wife.

"No shit."