Page 69 of Stricken

My inner voice, usually a whisper, now screams.

What if Uncle Tony finds out before I talk to him?

The thought sends ice through my veins. His disappointment would be a knife in my gut. Worse still, his anger–a volcano of retribution that could bury me, Vlad, and everything we've built.

And what exactly did you build, Nicola?

A few heated nights with the enemy and a dead body in the Nevada desert?

I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the tile. No, I tell myself. No, I won't think about him that way, as if whatever we have doesn't mean anything. It does. In a strange sick way, but it does.

With a thank you nod to the staff, I exit the kitchen and walk outside onto the back terrace where the Nevada sun greets me with warmth that seems so uncharacteristic right now, so not in line with my mood.

I text Costa as I step into our meticulously manicured backyard. I watch the long shadows stretch across the drought-resistant plants until I hear a familiar voice behind me.

"Padrino?" he murmurs, his voice hardly discernible above the cascading water of the massive stone fountain. He's well-aware if anyone in the house hears him say that, we're both in trouble. He's careful when he utters the word, but he utters it anyway as if manifesting the future for me. And now I wonder if he was the one who put the idea in my head. The idea that I'm the best choice to lead the family when Uncle retires.

"How did you sleep?" I ask him, stalling.

"Not so good." He looks me right in the eyes. "You were gone all night. Again."

I don't offer an explanation. I already told him what happened when he caught me sneaking into the house at dawn.

"I must caution you about the Russians,Padrino. This alliance you're planning with him—"

Costa falls into step beside me as I round the fountain. His presence is an odd comfort. He's been with me half my life and having him do what I want is hard. Especially now, with Salvatore being more unpredictable than ever. I need Costa by my side, but I also feel like I need to do something for Vlad, so his quest for revenge doesn't end up killing him.

I lean against the fountain's edge, letting my fingers trail through the cool water. "Speak freely, Costa."

Costa's dark eyes scan the perimeter before he continues in a low voice. "Russians are unpredictable, violent. This Vlad... he could turn on you in an instant. He is a Solovey. His reputation precedes him."

"You mean his father's?"

"I don't want anything to happen to you,Padrino."

"Don't call me that… Not yet, anyway."

"Think about what I said."

"I appreciate your concern, Costa. But the alliance is necessary. We need to resolve this shipment issue before it spirals out of control, before Salvatore finds out. We were lucky no one saw us but if he decides to move the drugs sooner than later, we're screwed."

"And if it does spiral?" Costa presses. "The fallout could be catastrophic."

I meet his gaze, unflinching. "I need you to do something for me." I pause. In the privacy of my mind I wonder if this pause is too dramatic. "Find out everything you can about Shtyk and then track him for me. He was last seen in Sinaloa, Mexico. I want him back in Vegas."

Costa's brow furrows. He thinks for a moment. "Solovey's enforcer Shtyk?"

"That's the one."

"Is it wise for me to leave now?"

"I'm handling it, Costa. I promise. Getting Shtyk back to the States is no less important, and I need your help."

Costa hesitates, his loyalty warring with his instinct to protect. "And if something happens while I'm gone?"

"Then I'll deal with it," I assure him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But the task I gave you is crucial, Costa. I trust no one else with it. Bring him back and keep it under the radar."

He nods slowly, resignation settling over his features. "As you wish. I'll leave on the next flight."

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