Chapter 30

Jason

" I 'm not sure what you can offer that might entice me," Grigori says, sitting uncomfortably in his wheelchair while I sink into the sofa. All this talk of shooting has depleted my energy reserves. It's been a long morning already. "You have nothing I want."

"Yet you're willing to talk to me," I reply. "And we both know it's not to buy time with Vitaly. Unless we reach a common ground, he will kill you."

"Don't you think I'm aware?" the old man scoffs.

I allow myself a broad, almost arrogant smile as I look at him, measuring every micro-expression dancing across his tired, drawn face. "Admit it. Deep down, you're proud of Vitaly. It takes a real set of balls to do what he just did."

"Mmm."

"Here's the deal, Grigori. You're not getting out of here alive unless we agree. Mind you, I could've just let Vitaly kill you, but I know it would pain Audrey deeply to lose her father, too, even after all the horrible shit you've done to her," I say. "Arkady Abramovic wanted to force his way into New York. Crazy, but that was not an impossible thing to do. It's only a matter of time before another Arkady tries to pick up where he left off. You might think it's a small possibility, but it's still a possibility, nonetheless."

Grigori gives me another sour look. "What's your point? My people can handle that. You heard my son; he's taking over. He'll deal with any other Abramovic stupid enough to try it."

"You need more than that. You need a branch here in Chicago, a Fedorov presence that is not too ostentatious but still visible enough to remind the Abramovic Bratva that you're not to be fucked with," I reply. "To that end, I offer a couple of my own properties. Buy them from me and set up a nice little office in Chicago. Use it for a legitimate business, something one of your kids can handle. Maybe a private kindergarten or a prep school. It would go a long way to garnering some favor with your daughter."

Grigori looks at me with slight confusion, but I can see a twinkle behind those cold blue eyes. I can almost hear the wheels spinning, the pieces falling into place as he processes my offer, one word at a time.

"The Abramovic Bratva won't question you, not at this point. After what happened to Arkady, they're in chaos. By the time they pull themselves back together, your business will already be established in Chicago. Legally. Irreversibly. They won't be able to do a thing about it. No funny stuff, though. I mean it. It has to be a legitimate, squeaky-clean operation. You do that and trust me, the Abramovic folks won't dare come near those properties. You have eyes here, and they won't even consider charging at New York again."

"Why are you doing this?" he asks.

"Because it's a price I'm more than happy to pay if it gets you off our backs," I reply. "Audrey belongs with me. We're going to live the rest of our lives together and with zero ties to the Bratva. We're going to have a child together. We're going to raise our family in peace and harmony. Audrey deserves true happiness, my daughter deserves a mother, and I deserve a fucking happy ending after all the shit I've had to deal with over the years. The last thing I want is to fight you or anyone else ever again, and I feel like this is a decent deal for both of us. I give you something, you back off, Audrey; everybody's happy. And you get to live."

"I get to live."

"Yeah. Take my deal, or your own son puts a bullet through your skull. These are your only options, and I'm really trying to be a decent human being here, Grigori. Help yourself the fuck out."

He would love to jump out of that wheelchair and tear my throat out with his bare hands. I'll bet he's thinking about it, and he would absolutely try to do it, too, were it not for that femur I shattered. He is old and helpless, now more than ever. It's not a position he's accustomed to, and he is, therefore, incredibly frustrated. But the old Russian's survival instincts are still very much on point, forcing him to override his own pride and give me a sullen, tentative nod.

"What kind of properties are we talking about?" Grigori asks.

"I'll look through my portfolio and offer you three of my finest plots. Big and generously priced. I'll give you a nice discount for the bundle. Just to cover my original investment and legal expenses. I won't charge you for the renovations, the city hall approvals, or the last five years' worth of taxes," I tell him.

"Interesting," he mumbles.

"Don't be an idiot, Grigori. You know I'm not going to hand over prime real estate for free. Consider it pennies, though, compared to you getting to keep your life."

He thinks about it some more, his gaze bouncing all over the room. I'm guessing he's wondering about the bodyguards stationed around the house, judging by his persistent stare at the front door. He's likely positing what their reaction will be if he rejects my offer. I think they've already proven themselves loyal to Vitaly, though. There's no way out for Grigori—not anymore, not unless it's on my terms.

Ultimately, he lets a heavy, ragged sigh escape from his chest. "You drive a hard bargain," he says. "Three of your finest properties?" he confirms.

"Yes."

"Include The Emerald Residence among them, and you've got yourself a deal."

Audrey is selling her apartment. I'll lose about thirteen million dollars if I go ahead with this. Hell, it's worth it. Screw The Emerald. Peace for me and my family is priceless. Having Audrey by my side, happy and thriving, that alone is fucking priceless. I would sell everything that I own, everything, if it means I get to see her alive and free to do whatever she wishes with her own life.

With a broad smile, I get up from the sofa and offer Grigori my hand. "Let's shake on it, you psychopath."

"Watch your fucking tongue," he snarls, but he shakes my hand vigorously, sealing the deal.

I glance at the back door, eager to get my woman out of there. "Mind you, Grigori, if you flake on me at any given point, Vitaly will kill you, and nobody in your precious Bratva will object. I hope we're both clear on that."

"I know the kind of monsters I raised," he grumbles. "And I am a man of my word, Jason Winchester. You'll understand that soon enough."

"Good. We're on the same page then," I reply.

A minute later, I burst through the back door, prompting Vitaly to jump from his seat while I give Audrey a broad and confident smile. "Get your things, babe, we're going home," I say.