Page 10 of Miki

“Will do, boss. Although I’ve got to say, I’m hoping he tries to do a runner. It’s been a long time since I got to open up my baby and let rip. I’d love to give that bastard a run for his money,” he replied, his entire face lighting up at the prospect.

“Well, if he does, be careful. No stupid antics and no fucking heroics,” I warned, knowing it would fall on deaf ears.

“You bet, boss,” he replied with a two-finger salute and a cheeky smile.

Chuckling, I shook my head as I watched him disappear down a side alley. Trigger had a way of making me smile despite myself. Even Vlad’s lips twitched, his usual stoic expression dropping for a second. Since he’d been in my organisation, Trigger had embedded his way into my heart, and I considered him family. Just like I did Vlad.

Trigger had PTSD from his time as a sniper in the military. He’d been homeless and begging in the street outside our office building when Marko had met him five years ago, literally just after my parents were murdered. Marko had befriended him and persuaded me to give the guy a job with us. Despite being unsure of him, I reluctantly agreed because we had just started a war with the Albanians and needed more men.

However, Trigger had really proved his loyalty since then and, according to the therapist I made him go to, he was coping better with his symptoms. In fact, he was doing really well lately, and as a result, I had given him more responsibility. He seemed to actually be thriving on it. I was glad because I needed loyal guys, but I also needed them to be mentally stable. With hidden enemies all around, I couldn’t afford for them to be anything else.

He was still a scruffy bastard that needed a bloody haircut, though. I smirked as I glanced down the alley and glimpsed long hair being shoved under a black motorbike helmet as he climbed onto the back of his ‘baby’. That was another thing that had drawn Marko and Trigger together, their love of all things motorbikes.

While I could ride bikes, I preferred cars myself and owned several sports cars. It was just such a pity that these days I was far too busy to take any of my cars out for a run. I understood Trigger’s remark all too well; I longed for a chance to take one of my babies out and let rip too.

There was nothing quite like the thrill of speeding along an open road in a sports car. Being a Pakhan really sucked sometimes. There was always so much to do and so little time for anything else.

Although now that we had fewer enemies to worry about, perhaps I could find a little more time for myself. Maybe I could even delegate more. Nodding to myself, I decided that as soon as I dealt with Simpson and Mathieson, that was exactly what I would do. I needed to make some time for pleasure. However, in the meantime, I had enemies to bring down.

“Where to?” Vlad asked.

“Home,” I said with a heavy sigh as I climbed into the passenger seat and leaned my head back.

Reluctantly, I pushed thoughts of time for pleasure to the back of my mind and as Vlad drove us home, I thought over what I’d learned from the weasel.

Nigel Simpson was a successful lawyer and made decent enough money, but he had expensive habits. Habits that needed to be funded.

That’s why the disgusting little shit had been happy to get paid to cause issues for mine and Glowacki’s families by this Aiden Mathieson person. It made sense since Simpson was based here in London while Mathieson was based in Glasgow.

Checking my watch, I contemplated phoning Glowacki to update him. He’d want to know what I’d found out. However, he and my aunt Marta were on their honeymoon, so I decided against it. There was no reason it couldn’t wait another few days until he returned home. After everything he’d been through, he deserved to enjoy this time with his new wife trouble free.

In the meantime, I sent Marko a quick text so he could get to work on digging up everything he could on Mathieson.

Simpson had been Mathieson’s go-between with Siri and the Broxys; before that, he had been conspiring with Siri and members of the Polish Mafia against Glowacki.

And he’d given the order to kill my beautiful sister.

Fuck, maybe I should have just killed the little weasel after all.

Every part of me thrummed with the need to hit something, but I kept my rage in check.

No, he could still be useful! I reminded myself.

But when he wasn’t, then I would gladly ring the fucker’s neck, slowly, with my bare hands.

He’d pay just like the others had.

We’d ended the Nowack brothers when they were released on bail after their arrest. Petrov hadn’t been bailed. He’d been remanded into custody and went to trial. He was given ten years. Not willing to allow anyone else to kill the fucker, I had ordered him to remain unharmed in prison as we waited for the day of his release.

However, that came sooner than expected when he cut himself a deal after agreeing to testify in a trial against his cellmate. We grabbed him before he could be taken into protective custody.

My mouth pulled up into an evil grin as I relished the fact that Petrov wouldn’t be testifying in any trial ever again.

It was through torturing Petrov that we’d learned about Siri’s involvement in our troubles and through Siri we’d found out about Nigel Simpson and now through Simpson, we’d discovered it was Aiden Mathieson who was behind it all and apparently ultimately to blame for everything that had happened to my family since the war with the Albanians.

This whole thing was getting more and more complicated by the minute. My mind felt overwhelmed by it all. Just how many fucking enemies did we have?

This hidden enemy situation reminded me of a Russian Babushka doll, where each time you opened it up, there was another doll inside, until finally you got to the last one. I sure as hell hoped that Mathieson was the last of our enemies.

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