Page 45 of Triplets for the Russian Boss

Kostin

Arguably, the Devil’s Kingdom is worse than the 37th Street Bratva. The 37th are petty criminals, with a bloodlust thicker than their skulls. They’re an angry bunch, but I don’t consider them dangerous; at least, not until they swarm you when you’re not prepared.

At the headquarters in Texas, we weren’t prepared. We were understaffed and outgunned, and they have big numbers in Texas. If they wanted to squeeze us, they could do it until we choked. It’s a good thing we found out about them when we did, or I wouldn’t be alive to dig deeper into this mystery.

The Devil’s Kingdom, on the other hand, operates in smaller numbers. It’s more of a cult than a Mafia Family, but they run highly addictive drugs - known as black sugar - through the country, collection billions in cash every year. They’re powerful, but they tend to stay in their own business, and they certainly don’t do drivebys.

Which is why I’m so concerned about the symbol on the shooter’s hand. That’s not the symbol of some wannabe gang or small crime syndicate. If you’re close enough to see that symbol, it usually means you’re already dead.

I need to discuss this situation with my brother, Tavo; he knows more about them than I do. He’s even met with their leader once or twice, to discuss territorial disputes, since both of our organizations are located in California.

I arrive home, heading to my office to make a call to my brother, when I spot Bonnie in the hallway, dripping wet in a bikini and holding a towel up to her bosom.

“You’re back already?” she asks, looking surprised.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve, trying to look calmer than I actually am. I don’t really have time to answer her questions, but she’s already concerned about what’s going on and I need to appear as though I have everything under control.

“I’m just stopping back in for a beer,” I say. “It’s as hot as the devil’s ass out there.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she says, moving her towel away from her breasts. “I’ve been swimming all day.”

“Very nice,” I say, my eye roaming over her glistening cleavage. “I’m glad you like the pool here. It’s bigger than the one in Texas.”

“Yeah, and deeper too. I couldn’t even touch the bottom.”

“Very nice,” I say, attempting to side-step her and continue to my office.

“Why are you in a hurry? Maybe we could have a drink together?”

Is she already getting clingy? I wasn’t expecting that. Maybe she’s just bored.

“Tonight, we can have a drink. I have some work stuff to do,” I reply.

She frowns. “I thought you said you were going to have a beer.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” I say, finally brushing past her and hurrying down the hallway toward my office. “Don’t forget about the massage tonight,” I call over my shoulder, as I leave.

She mumbles something, but I’m already too far away to hear it.

I open the door to my office, relieved to meet the scent of old cigar smoke and paper. This is one of the only places where I can think, and hardly anyone bothers me when I’m in here. I sit in my black leather chair, smoke, and start solving problems.

Today, the problem is the Devil’s Kingdom trying to murder me in broad daylight. I need to tell my brother about this. He might be able to give me some information on them that will help me avoid it happening again.

I pick up the large, black phone on my table. It’s one of the old ones, with the rotary dial. It used to belong to my father, and it’s been in the office ever since this place was built. This phone has decided the fate of many men over the years; but today, it decides mine.

I dial Tavo’s vacation home on the Cayman Islands, hoping he’s there to pick it up.

“You motherfucker,” Tavo growls from the other end, after the first tone.

“What?” I ask, a little taken aback.

“I know you’ve fucked something up.”

“I haven’t,” I insist, but I know he knows about Jerry already. He’s probably assuming that I’ve made the problem worse. I think we both have a way of assuming the worst of one another.

“Why are you calling me while I’m on vacation, then?” he asks impatiently.

“I’m curious about what information you have on the Devil’s Kingdom.”

There’s a long pause before Tavo speaks again. “The Devil’s Kingdom? Please tell me you’re not in trouble with those freaks. They do cult shit – human sacrifices.”

“I’m just looking for information, Tavo. Not judgment.”

“They’re dangerous if you poke them, but usually they don’t want anything to do with anyone. The cops stay away from them, and basically everyone else,” he explains. “Their leader, Diavolo Morte, is a weird guy, but I’ve spoken to him before and he’s not especially aggressive. Why are you asking about them?”

“Thanks. That’s all I needed to know,” I say, hanging up the phone before he can ask any more questions.

I need to get in touch with this Diavolo guy and give him a piece of my mind. I’m not going to have him sending his boys after me, without so much as a warning. Maybe I stepped over a line and didn’t realize it, but I deserve an explanation.

The phone rings on the table, no doubt from Tavo, but I ignore it, choosing to stand up and light a cigar. I’ll have to take a trip back to the warehouse to sign more papers, but before that, I might actually like to have a beer, if not only to follow along with what I told Bonnie.

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