Page 39 of Goodnight, Sinners

Jozef must’ve seen the despair on her face because he stepped up to the bed and put his hand on her head.

Saskia crawled away from him, pushing Shaun’s comforting hands aside.

“I want to be alone.”

Chapter Eighteen

“AMr. Dietrick and a Special Agent Moreau to see Mr. Koba.”

Jozef looked up from his desk, paperwork spread across the surface, and tried to reengage his brain. He’d been consumed by Krystoff’s meticulous record-keeping, not something he had suspected his uncle capable of. Yet the evidence of Krystoff’s obsessive need to record every interaction, be it financial, contractual or personal, filled a small room of file cabinets next to his office.

Jozef had been engrossed in the records surrounding Leeza’s marriage when Atlas had interrupted him. Though Jozef had recently found out about Leeza’s parentage, it turned out that Krystoff had known for years and her marriage appeared to be based on the knowledge. Jozef couldn’t figure out why, unless it was petty revenge against his now-beloved wife. He’d wanted her to suffer in some small way for birthing a bastard into the family and accomplished it by giving the girl away in marriage to a monster. The more Jozef read, the more he realized his uncle had known exactly who and what Adam Horácek was prior to the union. Yet, he still negotiated the marriage, and there didn’t appear to be even a hint of blackmail to push him into the decision. No, it appeared to be simply a matter of petty revenge.

Show them in,Jozef signed to Atlas.Get H-A-V-E-L.

Jozef had been expecting this meeting. After the death of his uncle, he’d smoothed things over with law enforcement fairly easily. Krystoff had orchestrated the attack on his nephew and Jozef and the ‘residents’ of the building had simply been defending themselves.

It was a weak story, though it was mostly true. Despite Jozef’s attempt to clear the building of anything that could be illegal, he’d been shaken by Krystoff’s death and had missed a few things. Though he’d hidden his rocket launcher in the safe room, it was clear his apartment had been blown up by something significantly more powerful than a sidearm. It was also clear that Krystoff hadn’t killed himself with a rocket launcher. Still, Jozef had thrown money and promises at the problem and it had gone away. He’d even convinced law enforcement not to pursue any questioning with Shaun.

She’d been surprised by the lack of questions, but Jozef had reassured her they got everything they needed from others and didn’t require an additional statement from her. She’d been too traumatized to question him further. Something he was grateful for. She didn’t need to know that they’d had to dispose of Giselle’s body privately. Or that they suspected someone close to Jozef of killing her.

Though the local police had cleared Jozef and his team of any wrongdoing in the attack, the Prime Minister’s office was gunning for him, hoping to use the incident to their benefit. Dietrick would be here on the Prime Minister’s behalf, his bodyguard and mouthpiece, and had apparently teamed up with Interpol to add more weight to his efforts.

Jozef recognized the name Moreau. Though it was a common French name, most in the underworld knew of Interpol bloodhound, Francois Moreau. He was known for bringing down organized crime families.

Jozef’s suspicions were proved true when Atlas escorted the two men into his office. Jozef stared hard at Moreau. He was the same man that their surveillance had taken pictures of. According to Jozef’s sources, the man had been looking closely at the Koba family.

Moreau must have a set of solid brass balls for walking into Jozef’s den like he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Koba,” Dietrick said coldly.

Jozef wasn’t surprised at the chilly greeting. Last time they met, Jozef had put a bullet in the other man’s shoulder for endangering Shaun on the highway.

Jozef didn’t attempt to communicate, instead crossing his arms over his chest and staring at them. He wanted them to feel the heat of discomfort while they waited for Havel to arrive, which could take anywhere from two minutes to fifteen, depending where he was on the estate.

It was times like this, meetings like this, when Jozef knew how to use his voicelessness to his advantage. Humans were used to using vocal communication. They relied on it so much that many had lost their ability to read body language and nuances. Jozef had spent his entire life honing his ability to read others. Not in what they said, but in what they didn’t say.

Dietrick was attempting to put on a brave front, but fear radiated from him in waves. His slightly raised eyebrows, taut forehead and open mouth breathing gave away his fear. He also moved so that the shoulder Jozef had shot was turned away, subconsciously favouring his injury. Like a shark, Jozef smelled blood in the water when it came to Dietrick.

He shifted his focus to the other man, openly staring at Moreau. The Frenchman was more difficult to read. His expression was guarded, and his body language was loose and uninterested, his hands in his pockets, his gaze on the fireplace mantle, which showcased Krystoff’s cigar box and a few other trinkets. Of course, Moreau wasn’t as casual as he looked. The rapid flicker of his pulse gave him away. Was his elevated heart rate fear or excitement?

Havel knocked once and let himself into the office. Ignoring the other two men, he approached Jozef’s desk and signed,you want an interpreter?

Jozef gave him a feral smile.Not just any interpreter. I want you.

Havel chuckled.I love you too, bro.

It was a joke, of course, but it amused both men to laugh privately while their guests stood stiffly waiting for acknowledgment and wondering what the hell was being said.

Jozef cleared his throat, and Havel took that as his cue to step to the left side of the desk. Near the boss, protective, but keeping Jozef in the position of power.

It was all about optics. If they acted like tough guys, then others would believe that they were seeing tough guys. Jozef had a reputation for being brutally efficient, and though he was as his reputation suggested, half of the stories that circulated about him were made up. He and his men did nothing to discourage them.

What do you want?Jozef signed, staring hard at Dietrick.

Havel interpreted.

Dietrick looked uncomfortable and glanced between Jozef and Havel as if trying to decide where his eyes should land. He made the correct choice when he chose Jozef.

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