Page 9 of Zafira

“I believe it’s time I visited my good old friend, Triska Cermak.” She smiled regally as she got up and sauntered toward the door. “Did you know that she and I gave birth at the same time?” she said conversationally as she opened the door and gestured to Antonio to follow her. “She and her husband Marek were on vacation in Moldova when she had complications with her pregnancy, and her daughter was born prematurely.”

“Are you saying that you are a personal friend of Marek Cermak, the Prime Minister of the Czech Republic?”

Zafira winked at him. “The one and only, Antonio... the one and only.”

“So, Artem Melnyk is going to rot in jail. How does that assure you that he’s the real danger and not Seymon Mochilevich?”

“Because, my dear, I am going to make sure the two other people who know my identity as the Shadow Don realize I am the one who had him prosecuted. They’ll know none of them will be safe against my wrath. I’m done being used and underestimated. After tonight, not one of them will ever make that mistake again.”

After securing Zafira in the backseat, he got into the GMC SUV and started the engine.

“Whereto, Comare?”

“I believe it would be wise to stay away from the hotel. No need to play devil’s advocate, right? Let’s head out of the city. I’m sure we’ll find a decent hotel where we can stay overnight. Next week is soon enough to visit my dear friend.”

Contrary to her devil-may-care attitude, Zafira felt the band of betrayal once again tightening around her chest. She had given the three men her trust and offered them untold wealth and power as part of the Novaya Volna Group. No matter how much she tried to ignore the feeling, she was hurt and rapidly became angry. Had she been a man, with the equal power and control she already wielded, none of them would have dared to step out of line. One of them did more than that and sided blatantly with the enemy. In the time they had been driving, she had reached the conclusion that it was Artem Melnyk. He was the one who always watched her with a dark glimmer in his eyes. For some reason, she had recently felt a wave of hatred flowing from him. Now, that feeling was what cemented her belief that he had been the one who had given in to the coercion of Luciano Maranzano.

Although there were many variables in what played out tonight, her instinct warned her that she had been the ultimate target.

Zafira Guzun always trusted her instinct.

Chapter Four

343 Merirahu Võrgud OÜ, Private Residence Estate, Tallinn, Estonia...

“I’m done for the day, sir.” Svetlana Rebane, a born and raised Estonian woman, neatly folded the dust cloth and placed it in the trolley that housed all her cleaning materials. “Do you need my services the rest of the week?”

“Ei, Svetlana. But you can come clean and do my washing again on Monday.”

“Muidugi, sir. I will return on Monday.”

Not bothering to respond or walk her to the door, Andrus Klavan returned his steadfast gaze over Tallin Bay. The calmness of the water was in contradiction to the volatile emotions swirling inside him. Life had totally fucked him over. All his dreams of success and grandeur were gone... destroyed by the Guzuns and Andrei Balan or Smirnoff... or whatever the fuck he called himself nowadays.

He'd had a positive outlook his entire adult life. Whatever he wanted, he got. Not because it was given to him but because he refused to let anything, or anyone, stand in his way of getting it—until a year ago... when his entire existence came crashing down on him.

“Have a backup plan, Son, for every backup plan you have.”

The voice of his father echoed inside his mind, reminding him that he was better than acting like a broken man crying over spilled milk.

“Except, my fucking backup, backup, backup plan didn’t take into account just how far Zafira Guzun’s power stretched. I never realized how much control she now had in the criminal world, which surpassed even Andrei’s and Arian’s combined. Yes, Padre. I fucked up. I made one miscalculation, and this is where I ended up.”

Andrus, aka Luciano Maranzano, swept a wide arm through the air, indicating, in his opinion, the dismal two-bedroom house he lived in. Gone were the luxury he had basked in his entire life, the money and the strings of people honoring him for the powerful man he was.

Since the Sardinian government had lodged a countrywide manhunt for him, he had been forced to flee Italy. At first, he had laid low and moved between the vast number of properties he owned under the guise of shell companies all across the EU, but the Guzuns had tracked him down every time. They, more than the law, wanted his head. All his allies knew he was being hunted and therefore, refused to offer him a safe haven. The Guzuns were too much of a force to be reckoned with. No one was prepared to anger them by hiding their biggest foe.

“But there is light at the end of the tunnel,” he smirked as he lit the one indulgence he still allowed himself, a cigar, the cheap kind, but beggars can’t be choosers.

His salvation had come at a time he hadn’t expected, nor from a person he could predict would offer him a helping hand.

“Money and power always have the upper hand,” he murmured as he dragged the smoke deep into his lungs. “I might not have access to my billions at the moment, but with my new partner’s assistance and the cash I stashed away exactly for this kind of unexpected incident, my lifestyle will soon be restored.” A low cackle split the air in the room. “As soon as Zafira Guzun is found guilty and put behind bars, the real fun will begin. Then, the odds will once again turn in my favor. I’ll be able to leave this shithole country and finally get rid of the rest of the bastard Guzuns... for good this time.”

346 Merirahu Võrgud OÜ, Private Residence Estate...

“Well, Svetlana? How is he doing? Anything to report?”

Svetlana Rebane, Luciano’s cleaning lady, clamped the phone between her shoulder and chin as she pushed the trolley into the hall closet before walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows of the small great hall area. Changing the call to speakerphone, she removed the gray wig and thick, black-rimmed glasses. She shook loose her long red tresses with the platinum white streaks that made her stand out in a crowd—not only because of the stark contrast but also because she had the clearest azure eyes. It was a rare combination that identified her as someone different since she seemed to have the ability to look right into your soul.

“Díky bohu,” she sighed with relief as she stretched the kinks out of her back. “I hate that wig and walking hunched over like a limp dick all day long.”

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