Page 144 of Lethal Alliance

I nod at Mickey, and he pours the obligatory glasses of vodka. I raise my glass. “To family,” I say, in Russian.

The other men meet my eyes. “To family.”

I drink, watching Mickey out of the corner of my eye. He does a good job of not wincing as he swallows the vodka. I do a good job of not laughing at him.

I wait until we’re all seated on the leather armchairs around a low coffee table before sliding an envelope across to Alexei.

“I wanted to offer you a piece of Mercura,” I say without preamble. “From what Mickey tells me, you not only strengthened the entire platform, but also made sure Fedorov got nowhere near it. Mercura is secure and thriving, thanks to you both.” I tap the envelope. “This gives you a seat at the table and a decent cut of the profits. I know what it’s like pulling an organization out of a war. Your cut of Mercura should help.”

Alexei and Lars exchange a look, then Alexei takes the envelope. “Thank you,” he says quietly, putting his hand out. “You won’t regret this.”

“I know that.” I grip his hand briefly, then settle back in my armchair. “You’ve already met Mak. You’ll meet some of the other board members at the wedding.” I crack a smile. “Those are the ones I’d call friends, or at least good acquaintances. Others I prefer to keep as far away from my family as humanly possible. I’ll send you a brief on them all regardless. We don’t engage in board meetings on a regular basis, for reasons I’m sure you both understand.”

Lars smiles at that. “You mean like giving intelligence services across six continents a serious hard-on?”

I grin. “Something like that, yes.”

I turn to Alexei. “I understand that you discussed the opening of the vault with Darya and Sergei and came to agreement?”

He nods.

“Good. I propose that we set up a small team, drawn from both of our organizations, to oversee the return of the pieces inside the vault. A sort of task force, if you will.”

“That’s a good idea.” Alexei’s eyes narrow. “I don’t want that fucker Lance Ryder on it, though. He can consult, but I want him on a very short leash.”

“Agreed,” I say readily. “Frankly, the further that prick stays away from us all, the happier I’ll be.”

“After what went down with Orlov,” he says, “I’m still operating on very limited numbers. While we set up the next phase of business, I’m going to need my brigadiers close. Have you got anyone you’d trust to oversee this task force?”

I clip the end off a cigar and offer them both one, which they both accept and Mickey wisely declines. “I’d like to give it to Dimitry, with your agreement. He’s been my right hand for years now, and I trust him as a brother. It’s time he was given a piece of the business to run. This would be a good place to start.”

“I’m happy with that.” Alexei leans forward so I can light his cigar. “Dimitry seems like a good man.” The brief flare of the flame highlights the brutal scars on his face. There seems barely an inch of skin untouched.

Not for the first time, I silently thank all the gods that my daughters made it out of that sadistic fucker Orlov’s grasp.

“I assume you two have projects of your own in the works?” I glance between Lars and Alexei.

“Yep.” Lars gives me that big smile. “Actually, I was going to ask if I can borrow your man here over next summer.” He nods at Mickey, who does a masterful job of not turning excited somersaults. “We’ll be launching a platform of our own by then. It would be good exposure for him.” His grin widens. “Not to mention a hell of a lot of fun.”

I don’t need to look at Mickey to know just how much he wants this. I scratch my head and pretend to ponder the question for far longer than is necessary, given that my answer is a complete no-brainer.

No harm in making the kid squirm.

“I can spare Mickey from Mercura for a summer,” I say casually. “Up to him how he chooses to spend his time, though.”

Lars turns to him with raised eyebrows. “What do you think, kid? Want to come and see how real men work?”

Alexei snorts.

Mickey swallows hard in an effort to maintain his composure. “Yes,” he manages. “I—yes. That would be—Thank you, Mr. Andersson.” He puts his hand out, and Lars shakes it, grinning.

“This is gonna be fun. Speaking of which, I’ve got something I wanted to show you.” He’s already halfway to the door when he remembers that we’re still sitting. “If you’re finished here, that is,” he says. I wave them out, unable to hide my smile. This is, without competition, the best day of Mickey’s life to date.

Alexei waits until the door has closed behind them before speaking again. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.” Something in his voice sets my nerves tingling. His face is dark and shuttered again, any trace of his former humor gone. “I made sure Vilnus Orlov took a long time to die. I wanted to be sure I’d extricated anything that might be of use from him before I sent him to hell.”

The thought of Orlov writhing in agony is one of the most satisfying I’ve had in a very long time. And by the cold, deadly tone of Alexei’s voice, it was a job he took extremely seriously. The flat darkness in his lone eye almost makes me shiver, and I’m a man who has seen a lot of death.

“Before I gave him the final cut of the knife, Orlov let something interesting slip.” He hands me a piece of paper. “Vilnus Orlov wasn’t the only child who was given refuge in Ilyan Fedorov’s home.”

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