Lib Novel Page 6
“But it’s chilly outside.”
“Right now, Constanza. One of my men downstairs can give you theirs.”
She pouts a bit but leaves the jacket on the back of the sofa and rushes across the office, closing the big oak door after her. I turn toward the view outside and put my phone back to my ear.
“Listen to me carefully, Mitch. You’re going to find that hacker, and you’ll do it quickly. I don’t give a fuck if you need to station one of our men in every shitty internet café in the Greater Chicago Area. I want the motherfucker found and brought to me.”
“But . . . There are hundreds of internet cafés there, boss.”
“I don’t fucking care!” I snarl into the phone. “Find him. Or I’m going to detach your fucking head from your spine!”
“Yes, boss. Of course. I’ll get it done.”
I cut the line, then hit my brother’s contact icon.
“Raff,” Guido yawns through the speaker.
“Do we have anything major happening this week?” I ask as I head toward the door connecting my office to my bedroom.
“Christ, Rafael. It’s six in the morning.”
“Answer me!”
“As far as I know, no. Most of the available contracts were low-value, so I decided to pass on them. I need to check the postings, but I think I saw a double-hit order added last night. The amount, though, was less than a million.”
“Take it,” I bark as I step inside the walk-in closet.
“Okay. Who are we sending? The targets are in Germany, and I think Allard’s team is already there.”
“No.” I push the button hidden behind the row of suits and watch the back of the closet slide to the side. A moment later, the ceiling lights flick on, illuminating the interior of the hidden room, and the walls covered in an array of weapons.
“Then who do you want to send?”
“We’re not sending any of the teams. I’ll be handling this one.”
“Why?”
“I had a shitty start to the day, Guido, despite just getting home less than an hour ago. I need a distraction.” My eyes skip over the selection of long-range rifles before me. “Any special kill instructions?”
“Mmm . . . Let me see. Nope. No preferences for the method of disposal.”
“Perfect. Send me the file and tell the pilot to have the plane ready by seven.” I cut the line and take an M40 off the wall.
The last time I personally handled a contract was more than a decade ago, just before I made my return to Sicily. With all the crap I needed to do to take over and then maintain control of the east coast of the island, I had to “retire” my mercenary role. Now, I have eleven teams of hitmen scattered around the world, using the strategically located branches of Delta Security as bases. My brother oversees that part of our clandestine operations these days, while I’m focused on laundering and investing the blood money through the legitimate side of our business.
The business that some son of a bitch has decided to fuck with.
I can’t wait to get my hands on that bastard.
Home of Roman Petrov (the Russian Bratva’s pakhan), Chicago
The door of my room flies open.
“Jesus fuck, Dad!” I jump in my chair. “Don’t you know how to knock?”
With his eyes narrowed at me and rage etched into his features, the almighty Roman Petrov strolls in. His cane makes a slight tick sound on the hardwood floor as he approaches with quick steps and leans in close to my face.
“You are grounded,” he says through his teeth.