Page 29 of Winds of War

“His nephew Joaquin, who is also the grandson of Don Giuseppe Fenelli, one of the most prominent Mafia leaders from Detroit, will take care of the scum. He killed his brother, Joaquin's father, and tried to eliminate the boy and his mother on more than one occasion. Was it not for Van...” Ardan hissed a curse through clenched teeth, feeling the anger boiling inside him.

“How can I help you, then?” Although Cahal made great efforts to hide his disappointment, the others felt it in his voice. “It seems you have all the bases covered, so to say.”

“I will have them,”—Ardan nodded—“if you agree to carry on with your plan to kidnap my son Cian and hand him over to Montemayor.”

CHAPTER 23

“But...I thought we already agreed that we're allies now...or did you change your mind?” Cahal's voice shook as he cast a fearful glance in Ardan's direction.

“No, of course I didn't.” The man gave the teen a reassuring smile. “On the contrary, I now consider you one of The Base's most trusted allies, and I'm going to tell you about my secret plan inspired by your tactic. Making me, Montemayor, and Ames fight against each other is a brilliant move.”

“Thank you.” Cahal blushed, flattered by Ardan's words. “I can't imagine how my strategy inspired you, and what does this have to do with me kidnapping your son, though.” He frowned, confused.

“By this time tomorrow, most of Montemayor's men will be embarked in two military helicopters on their way to the African jungle, or maybe on the bottom of the ocean. To distract him from the lack of news from his men, we are going to attack some of the scumbag's most important allies from New York City, Detroit, San Francisco, and Chicago. And this is where you come into the picture.” Ardan offered Cahal an encouraging smile.

“Come on, dear child, tell us about your plan.” Fabian spoke gently, massaging the teen's tensed shoulders. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise.”

“I...um...Evon was supposed to befriend one of your sons,” Cahal hesitantly started, “and I was going to convince Montemayor to send some men here and kidnap him so he can gain the upper hand against you. I...” The boy stopped for a while, swallowed hard a few times, then continued. “I honestly thought the bastard would release your son once he had you, but...”

“Don't blame yourself for something that is not your fault.” Ardan gave Cahal a look filled with understanding and warmth. “You didn't know either of us. That bloody bastard Warthon taught you to hate me, so you acted according to that. As I said before, we'll carry on with the plan, only you have to convince the sleazy fucker to come here in person. Can you do that?”

“Sure I can. I know what buttons to push.” Cahal nodded enthusiastically. “On the first day I met the disgusting pervert, he told me he wanted to meet my boyfriend.” The teenager glanced at Evon, guilt tripping him again. “I'll call and tell him my boyfriend is at The Base, and he's the one who will hand your son over to him.”

“Perfect.” Ardan approved with an evil smirk. “Like the good ally he is, Seamus will accompany Montemayor here under the pretext of covering his back. Joaquin will ambush his bastard uncle while Van and the other bikers who are with Seamus cut off his retreat.”

“Wow, that's a brilliant plan!” Cahal shook his head, admiration mixing with disbelief on his face. “And you called my rudimentary tactic genius!”

“Yes, because unlike you who are a natural talent, I benefit from Pater's experience as a former member of a special operation team.” Ardan smiled, turning to Fabian. “His strategies have saved our skin more than once.”

“I can only say that I'm thankful to whoever governs the Universe for bringing me and you together.” An idea crossed Cahal's mind, and he briefly paused, forehead creased by a frown. “You know who can help us with Montemayor's allies from Chicago? Erwyn Rochester. He'll be grateful Seamus saved his little brother Ravyn from Montemayor's claws. His fiancé, Arman Bedrossian, will most likely join him.”

“That is fantastic news,” Ardan exclaimed, his turquoise eyes shining incandescently. “I mean the part about Ravyn being Erwyn Rochester's kid brother because Bedrossian would have helped us, anyway. He's Evon's father, but I suppose you already knew that, didn't you?”

His boyfriend cast Cahal an apologetic look, then lowered his head, feeling guilty that the most important person in his life found out that from a stranger and not from him, as it would have been normally. However, the older teenager was too caught in his own thoughts to notice what happened around him.

Evon was Arman Bedrossian's son, and that only meant one thing: the blond kid would live the life Cahal always wanted to offer him. A comfortable, big home, a car of his own, the finest clothes and the tastiest food Evon could wish for, plus servants to cater to his every need and guards to protect him against threats of any kind.

The joy Cahal felt at the thought was soon replaced by a sharp, almost unbearable pain when he realized there was no way Bedrossian would go back to Chicago alone, leaving Evon to live the life he built in New York City. No loving father in his right mind would do that, especially one who was separated from his son for so long, Cahal thought.

No matter how hard it was for him, the teen understood the man's reason. He would've done the same. Having no friends in the city, it would have been easy for him to turn his back to his painful past and follow his boyfriend to Chicago, but he didn't know how Bedrossian would react to the relationship he and Evon had.

Most likely, Cahal thought, sadness invading his heart, my little beauty's father will be strongly opposed to the two of us being together, especially when he finds out who put me in my mother's womb. There will be a lot of hot shot gangsters' and mafiosos' younger brothers, sons, cousins, and nephews waiting in line for my Evon to choose them as his boyfriend, or, who knows, future husband.

Letting my little beauty go is the best thing I can do, Cahal decided, as difficult and heartbreaking it was. Clinging onto him, if Bedrossian opposes, won't do any good for me or Evon. On the contrary, innocent people could get caught in this and be hurt. I'll walk away...but before that, I'm going to make the most of the time we have left.

***********

The tea house, so animated in the morning, became quieter toward midday with only a few patrons grouped around a table and sipping the strong tea prepared the Russian way, with water boiled in a traditional samovar. The said patrons were all burly men, sporting thick beards and mustaches and speaking in low voices in a foreign language Bedrossian recognized as being Russian.

The man, born and raised in an Armenian Catholic family, didn't remember anyone from his family to have contact with members of the Russian community from Detroit, the city where he saw the light of the day. Bedrossian also didn't have memories of him taking foreign language classes in school or otherwise, but he knew one thing for sure: he spoke Russian as fluently as he spoke his native tongue.

Like every time when he tried to remember more of his past, the man ended up even more confused and frustrated, so he forced his thoughts to take a turn in another, more pleasant direction. Evon. Amputated as it was by that woman who didn't pay enough attention to it, his son's name put a smile on Bedrossian's face every time he thought about it.

However, over the past few days, that name, or better said the kid who was wearing it, was the main object of the man's concern. According to Ardan MacNamara, the boy reacted very well to the news that Arman was his father, so he didn't worry about the moment when the two of them would meet for the first time.

Bedrossian was afraid that he would lose his son’s affection and trust once the time came for the two of them to go to Chicago. After witnessing firsthand how happy Evon was in the company of the kids who he had come together with at the tea house, the man wasn't fond of the idea of taking his son away from everything he came to love.

Moving the headquarters of his legit companies to New York City was a version Bedrossian seriously considered for a few years. As for the organization he created, the Armenian trusted his right hand, Igor Beleaev, to rule it during his prolonged absences from Chicago. The man helped Arman build the organization from scratch, cared about his subordinates, but also knew how to make himself listened and respected by them.

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