19. Andrey

19

ANDREY

"How many routes have we secured?"

"Fourteen." I can practically see the dollar bill signs reflected in Luca's eyes every time he looks down at the route map we've spent the last two weeks perfecting. "I've got men stationed down all fourteen of them, ready to facilitate the drug shipments when they come through. We're as ready as we'll ever be."

I take the map off the table and study it closely. Fourteen thick, red lines wind through the city.

Fourteen ways for drugs to flow in and money to flow out.

Fourteen ways for my Bratva to solidify our future.

Slapping the map back on the sticky tabletop, I point at route number seven. "I need this one taken off."

Luca leans in to hear me over the thumping music of the club. "Route number seven is a strategic meeting point in and out of the Upper West Side."

"So are routes two, five, and eleven. We can do without seven."

Luca eyes me carefully. "May I ask why?"

"Personal reasons. I want it free of interference. That means no drugs and no threat of police activity."

Luca's eyes are bright with curiosity, but he has the sense not to push the issue. "Have you cleared it with Bujar and Cevdet?"

"Considering I'm the one running this operation, not to mention taking on most of the risk, I don't see why any of the partners would have a problem with it."

Luca raises his hands. "No, there's no problem here. Only interest."

"The only thing you should be interested in are the profits we're going to make."

It's a successful carrot dangling in front of him. "Oh, believe me, Andrey, all I've been dreaming of for weeks is profit." He cackles as he helps himself to another cigar. "Leave it to me. I'll have the route cleared for you, no questions asked. We'll talk again soon."

After Luca leaves, Shura joins me for a cigar and a glass of whiskey. "Did he pry?"

"Of course; it's Luca. But I managed to divert him. He'll clear route seven."

I decided early on that we needed a contingency plan on the off chance things went south and an all-out Bratva war breaks out. It's the first time I've ever had to have one.

Then again—save for Maria—this is the first time I've had something to lose.

"Any word from the Brigadiers?"

"Silent as the night," Shura confirms. "Yorick told me that they've severed ties with Slavik. They were a no-show at the last scheduled meeting and his calls have gone unanswered."

I help myself to some more whiskey. News like that deserves a toast.

"Once this expansion is underway, he'll be hard-pressed to find anyone who will be willing to ally with him."

"Let's not forget Nikolai."

I scowl. "Trust me, I haven't forgotten about the bastard. But first things first: I have to deal with Slavik and his takeover bid before I can concentrate on snuffing out the Rostov threat. Speaking of which…"

Shura shakes his head. "No news on that front. The man has retreated into the shadows."

"Which means he's planning something."

Shura's phone rings, and I don't miss the way he tenses before declining the call and placing the phone on the table screen side down.

"Who was that?"

"No one," he answers quickly. I arch a brow and he grimaces. "Katya."

I've known the man long enough now that I know when he's keeping something from me. "Everything alright between the two of you?"

"Sure, sure. She's just been busting my balls lately. Don't wanna deal with it."

He picks up his empty whiskey glass and brings it to his lips. Then he realizes there's nothing in it and reaches for the bottle.

I beat him to it, yanking the bottle out of his reach. "Now that we've got the lies out of the way, you can tell me what's really going on."

Shura swallows. He drops his arm and leans back against his seat. "I've been sworn to secrecy," he admits. "All you need to know is that you don't need to be concerned."

Again, Shura's phone rings, and he flips it over with a groan, Natalia's name clearly visible on the screen.

"Go on," I growl. "Answer it."

Shura eyes me warily, but he answers. "Nat, this isn't a good time."

I can't really make out what she's saying. The club we're in is too noisy and she's speaking fast.

"I don't know about tomorrow," Shura tells her. "Maybe Tuesday." After a beat, he sighs. "Oh, alright. I'll make time tomorrow." He hangs up and glares at me. "You didn't hear any of that."

I cross my heart with a sardonic smile and hand him the bottle. "Not a word."

Shura fills his glass and takes another drink, watching me over the rim.

"I had work for you tomorrow, but I'd hate to double-book you," I say casually. "When will you be busy?"

He downs the rest of his glass and sags back in his chair. "I won't be available at four tomorrow afternoon."

Perfect.

I may know what time Shura is busy, but that doesn't stop me from having to wander from room to room to track the two of them down.

I'm on the second floor when I happen to glance out the window and spot them in the far corner of the back lawn.

I tear through the house and stick close to the wall as I make my way towards them, hoping they won't see me. I doubt they're looking for spies, though. They chose the most secluded area of the garden, and it's been so overtaken with plants and trees that it provides the perfect coverage—unless you happen to look out of one particular second-floor window.

"Easy, Nat," Shura cautions. "Remember, if you panic, the gun becomes a liability."

Using the trees as cover, I creep as close as I can to their meeting spot without being seen. There's still about ten feet between us when I settle in to watch the show.

Right now, the show is Natalia with her hands wrapped around a gun, her brow scrunched tight in concentration.

The last time I saw her with a gun, it was aimed at my chest. This time, she's pointing it at a target set up a dozen feet away. One bullet hole is already flapping in the wind.

"Ready?" Shura asks.

"I think so," she squeaks.

"Keep both your eyes open. And remember: breathe, aim, shoot."

Her shoulders rise and fall accordingly. A second later, she squeezes the trigger. The silencer on her gun renders the shot little more than a dull pop . The target remains untouched.

"Dammit!" she cries.

"That was good!" Shura claps. "Really good."

"Don't patronize me," Natalia snaps. "You're the only one to actually hit the target today."

"That's because I've had a lifetime of practice, whereas you just got used to holding a gun last week. Give yourself a break."

"Stand back. I wanna try again," she orders, as though she hasn't heard a word Shura's just said.

With a resigned sigh, he steps away and Natalia takes aim once more.

She looks magnificent. Even more so when this bullet grazes the outer edge of the target.

"Yes!" she screeches, jumping up and down. "I did it! I actually did it!"

"Whoa, there," Shura cautions, snatching the gun from her hand and putting the safety on. "This thing's still loaded."

"Did you see that?" she demands, turning to Shura with blazing eyes. "I hit the target."

He laughs. "I did. Well done."

With a squeal of delight, she launches herself at Shura and wraps her arms around him. He stumbles back a few feet before returning the hug.

Something hard twists in my stomach. Before I can decipher what it is, I'm striding out of my hiding place and towards them with only one intention in my head.

Getting Shura's hands off my fucking woman.

As soon as she sees me, the smile wipes itself clean off of Natalia's face. She drops her arms and backs away from Shura, gaping at me like I'm the one holding a gun.

"What are you doing here?" Natalia chokes out.

"I was walking and I heard voices," I lie smoothly. "How long have you been practicing?"

She glances guiltily at Shura. "Um… a few weeks."

I tip my head towards the target. "That's impressive for only a few weeks. I'm proud of you."

She scuffs the toe of her shoe into the dirt, refusing to meet my eyes. "Thanks."

Shura clears his throat. "I'm gonna put the gun away. Excuse me."

He leaves the two of us in the little clearing, and Natalia watches him go like she'd love nothing more than to follow after him.

"How did it feel?"

She turns to me, resigned to a conversation. "Terrifying at first. The first week was kinda sad. I barely even touched the thing. But then…" She can't quite bite back the smile that tips the corners of her mouth. "Then it felt amazing."

"I'm happy you kept trying."

She nods. "It's important to respect my limits while still pushing them." I raise my eyebrows and her cheeks flush with color. "Er… I'm also in therapy. Thus the lingo."

How the fuck have I missed so much?

"And," she adds, "before you think your intervention was some great idea and you're a master of manipulation, you should know that your sneak attack sucked."

"I'm sorry I pressured you," I hear myself say. "I should have approached it differently."

She leans back, eyes wide in surprise for a beat before she can school her face into neutrality. "Well, regardless… It was still a good idea. I shouldn't have rejected your help."

"What changed your mind?"

"It was actually something Aunt Annie said to me." She gives me a tight, accusing smile. "When the two of you orchestrated that little visit for me."

"It wasn't orchestra?—"

She waves me off. "Save your lies. I've decided not to be mad about it. Just like I've decided not to be mad about all those clandestine rendezvous the two of you have been having."

I smirk. "What can I say? Your aunt is an intriguing woman."

"I really thought she'd be immune to your charms." She smirks, eyeing me like she's appreciating my charms as we speak.

"Actually, I think it was my sincerity that worked with her."

"Well, either way… thank you," she says softly, looking out across the lawn. "For trying so hard to get through to me."

I just nod and say nothing. I don't want to ruin it.

For the first time in a long time, it feels like we're taking a step in the right direction.