Chapter 6

SIX

Dimitri

It wasn't a surprise that Colombia was hot and humid, that sticky kind of damp that made my clothes cling to my skin in an unpleasant way that I hated. One of the reasons that I enjoyed Arizona was that it was dry. While I loved the heat, I despised the rain. Give me the desert with its vistas of painted sky and cactus. Fuck all these mosquitos and rainforests, especially in a suit. I had no idea why the Bratva were expected to be in a suit. Whoever came up with that tradition should be skinned alive— twice. I missed my jeans and t-shirts, Arizona, and most of all, my motorcycle .

"Why are you so cranky?" Tomas asked with a grin.

I shot him a look, but I should have killed him where he sat for the dumb fucking question. Luka and I had arrived two weeks ago, and already I was ready to disembowel just about anyone just to get the fuck out of here. "Just because you're used to this jungle sauna doesn't mean the rest of us are."

He laughed, the sound light and unbothered, which only irritated me. Tomas was born and raised in this infernal climate, so he didn't flinch at the oppressive humidity or how the air felt thick enough to cut. He navigated the narrow, crowded streets with an ease I couldn't replicate, his white linen shirt still pristine and unwrinkled despite the heat. Meanwhile, I felt like a soggy rag, my suit sticking to me in ways that made me want to rip it off and jump into the nearest river. Tomas wasn't a Bratva member but a guide for us here and paid well. My trust in him was pretty minuscule, if I were being honest. Luka and I had vetted him, but we were skeptical .

"Remember, this meeting is important," he said, steering us through a bustling market. The air was thick with the scent of tropical fruits and grilled meats, a sensory overload that made my stomach churn. "You're guests here. Try to be respectful."

I grunted in response. Respect was earned, not given, and our hosts had done little to earn mine. But Tomas had a point; this wasn't Arizona, and my usual demeanor wouldn't fly here. We needed information, and I had to play along as much as I hated it.

"We get it," I told Tomas, rolling my eyes at Luka. Then in Russian, I said to Luka, "Fuck this guy. He better come through. If he betrays us, he's going to suffer. I hate this place."

Luka only laughed, adjusting his tie like it wasn't a sweltering ninety degrees. Somehow, he wasn't dripping wet like I was. Dick. "Relax, brat . You're such a baby."

We arrived at a large, colonial-style building at the edge of the city center. It stood out amongst the surrounding structures, its faded grandeur a testament to better days.

"This is it. Mr. Rodriguez is expecting you," Tomas said, stopping the car. "I'll be waiting for you. I hope," he said with a wink. He was genial, friendly, open-faced, and well-versed in Columbian customs.

"See you, Tomas," Luka said. "We'll be fine. Maybe not Dimitri. He's delicate in this heat."

Glaring at him, I considered punching him in the face but settled on tripping him as we exited the car. He didn't find it funny, but at least he looked less dignified. My brother sent him to watch me and supposedly help me, but Maxim didn't know me anymore. He hadn't known me for years. I was well-equipped to care for myself and certainly more than capable of finding and killing Anton Makarovich.

Two men stood at the entrance, their eyes sharp and their hands resting on the bulges under their jackets. They gave us a once-over before nodding and stepping aside. I was annoyed that they didn't seem bothered by the heat either. Was it only me?

Inside, the building was more remarkable, and the high ceilings and stone floors provided a welcome respite from the oppressive heat outside. We were led through several hallways until we reached a large, ornate room where our host awaited.

Miguel Rodriguez, the head of the Rodriguez cartel, sat at the head of a long table. His presence dominated the room, but the authority surrounding him didn't impress me. I was well acquainted with this show of power, this luxury, the guards. Beside him were women with that look of hopelessness in their eyes that I'd sadly grown accustomed to this last week. They lounged on the cushions with glasses of wine, their eyes glassy and unfocused.

"Welcome," Miguel said, rising to greet me. His English was impeccable, with only a hint of an accent. I trust your journey was pleasant. "

"As pleasant as it could be in this heat," I replied, smiling. "Thank you for meeting with me." The guy was a total asshole, but the worst kind — one with actual power. "This is one of my associates, Luka Nikitin." Luka nodded to Rodriguez, his eyes wandering to the guards and the perimeter. All joking between us was put to the side now; this was the time to be serious.

"Welcome." Rodriguez chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that did little to set me at ease. "Colombia has its charms, but I understand it's not for everyone."

Rodriguez eased himself back onto a sofa, patting the seat next to him as he picked up a piece of fruit. Obviously, he was putting on a show for me as one of the women came over and sat in the space immediately. "I hear you are in the market?"

"Yes," I said as I tried to maintain the practiced calm of someone who wasn't feeling like a furnace on the inside. "We're looking to expand our operations, and I've heard your network is the most reliable in South America. "

Miguel's eyes glinted with a mix of pride and suspicion. "Our network is indeed extensive. But reliability comes at a price, Mr. Volkov." He looked greedily at me and Luka, understanding that the power of the Volkov Bratva name came with us. Even here, that meant something.

I nodded, leaning back slightly in my chair. "I'm well aware of that. We're prepared to offer generous compensation for services rendered." The room was silent for a moment; the only sound was the quiet hum of the ceiling fan overhead.

Miguel took a slow bite of the fruit, chewing thoughtfully before speaking again. "Generous compensation is always welcome. But we also value loyalty and trust. Your organization has a reputation, and I need to know that we can count on you as much as you can count on us. It was my understanding that the pakhan wasn't interested in trafficking." He sniffed delicately, tracing a hand along the woman's thigh. "Had a distaste for it."

This was the delicate dance I'd dreaded, where every word had to be carefully weighed. "Loyalty is a two-way street," I replied. "The Bratva doesn't make alliances lightly. If we commit, it's for the long haul. We don't back out once we're in." I glared at him. "My brother has had a change of heart," I smirked. "Now that I'm back, I've talked him around. Explained that there is money to be made."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Good. Because once you're in, there's no backing out here, either. We have mutual enemies and mutual interests. This could benefit both of us, but it requires full commitment."

I nodded, sliding my hands into the pockets of my slacks. I understood the gravity of his words. "We're ready for that commitment." It was a lie; this entire thing was a sham, but I was glad he bought it.

Miguel seemed satisfied with my answer and leaned back, signaling to one of his men. His gaze lingered on me, searching for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he nodded. "Good. We'll start with a small shipment and see how things go. If all goes well, we'll increase the volume. "

The tension in the room eased slightly, and Miguel's stern expression softened into something resembling a smile. "Now, let's drink to our new partnership."

Glasses of tequila were poured and distributed, and I raised mine even though it made me sick to my stomach to drink with this sick fuck. Not to mention, I hated tequila. The liquid burned as it went down, a fitting metaphor for the path we were about to embark on. "To new beginnings," I said, clinking my glass against Miguel's, getting vicious satisfaction when his face paled at my malicious grin.

"To new beginnings," he echoed. "Tomorrow, I'll take you and Luka to see the newest shipment I received. You can decide whether to send them on to the US or not. Although a few just came from there."

My fingers played across the rim of the glass. Shrugging, I added, "Of course, but there are beautiful women everywhere, are there not?" I said casually as if I couldn't care less. We'll look forward to meeting your men."

"That's business for tomorrow, Mr. Volkov. Tonight is for celebrating." Leaning back onto the sofa, he undid a button, and it took everything in me not to roll my eyes. What a loser. Well, we accomplished what we needed to. Now I just had to get through this evening and hope that tomorrow I could get my hooks into this asshole's business, find Makarovich, and get home in one piece. Easy.