Page 57 of The Councilor

“Red it is. Just relax.”

Her laugh didn’t sound bitter any longer, just hollow. She’d been given more than just a raw deal and I couldn’t wait to find an excuse to ruin, maim, or slit the man’s throat.

I grabbed my phone, not bothering to slide into my trousers. Right now, sweatpants would do. I’d thought of her as pampered but now, every thought rolling through my head was entirely different.

I grabbed a pair from my dresser, struggling to slide into them, my skin clammy from the rousing session of fucking. By the time I made it to the bottom of the stairs, my phone rang.

“Boss,” Ivan said as soon as I answered it.

“You havethatvoice.”

“Yeah, because we might have a confirmed issue. I’m right outside the door. Can I come in?”

I wanted to laugh but if the usually stoic man sounded almost frantic, I knew I needed to hear whatever he had to say. I didn’t answer, choosing instead to unlock the door myself. His eyes opened wide as I’d expected, studying my naked chest.

“I’m interrupting,” he said and closed the door behind himself.

“Yes, but business is business. Follow me into the den.” I had an extensive wine collection that I’d nurtured over the years, which was funny on several levels since it had also been a long time since I’d opened a bottle.

He said nothing as he followed me, but his tension was evident by a different crackle of electricity. Even though I was fully aware I needed to maintain focus, all I could think about was how sweet her nectar had tasted on my tongue, how damn good it had felt to have my cock driven inside.

I moved to the bar. With whatever he was about to tell me, I knew I needed a bracer.

“Can I have one of those? Sir?” Ivan wasn’t a timid man. Why he was acting that way now was beyond me.

After pouring two neat whiskeys, I studied him as I brought the glass. “What’s going on?” I was equally surprised when he threw the entire amount into his throat. The vintage was something to be savored, not gulped.

He placed the glass on the bar, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I sent some of the men to the streets, asking nothing more than for them to keep their ears open.”

“New York is a huge city, my friend. Where?”

“Little Italy. Don’t worry. My guys are Italian and can easily fit in with the crew. They were having lunch at a pretty popular mafiajoint, doing nothing more than chatting about sports when they overheard something that concerned them.”

“Meaning?”

“There’s going to be a hit.”

“A hit? Can you be a little more specific?” People didn’t realize that hits were assigned at least once a week. Were they always carried through? No. But certain old-style leaders of crime syndicates believed they could throw a tantrum, issue an enemy’s death sentence, and their problems would be solved.

At least where the Big Apple had once seemed like the Wild West, more legal methods of handling issues had been used over the last two decades. That didn’t mean someone like Luciano Bernardi didn’t prefer sticking with the old ways.

“I wish I knew on who, but the guys just joked that it would be completely unexpected. Makes me nervous.”

I didn’t blame him. Correct information was vital to surviving the dark world.

“Okay. Any timeframe?” I asked after thinking about what little I’d heard.

“Next few days. It’s like whoever is responsible is some ghost and people fear whoever it is. That’s all we know. I’m putting more men on the streets and mentioned this to Vadim. I think he’s going to have some feathers ruffled.”

Vadim’s style. “Well, just ensure he has enough security coverage and keep your ear to the ground.” There’d been assassins who’d put the fear of God into men before. That was nothing new but the fact my Capo was full of anxiety meant the threat was credible.

“Already in the works.”

“Is there something else troubling you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. I didn’t want to keep what I heard from you,” Ivan said.

“I’m glad you didn’t. Now, unless something else occurs, the rest of the night is off limits.”

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