Page 84 of Stricken

"You keep saying 'we', Vlad," he hisses out, his tone deceptively casual. "Seems like you might be in some trouble of your own."

I freeze, my heart pounding, then glance over my shoulder.

"This thing with the Italian..." he goes on. "It's unpopular. You know what we did to the people like you back in the motherland?"

My gut churns. The old man's finally showing his true colors. But out loud, I say, "We are not in the motherland anymore, Vartan, and it's not the nineties."

Vartan's lips twist in a humorless smile. "Be careful, Vladimir. Yours can still be a dangerous weakness in our world."

I exit the room without a comment, shoving my anger aside. The main goal has been achieved. Vartan will lure Tony out of his house and Nico and I will do the rest.

CHAPTER29

NICO

My phone vibrates in my pocket, the burner I keep for trusted associates or deals I'd rather not disclose to anyone. I glance at the screen—it's Costa. I accept the call.

"Padrino, are you alright?" Costa's voice is tense, filled with concern. "Heard about the warehouse fire through the grapevine."

I lean back in my chair, fingers drumming on the polished accent desk. "I'm fine. A little out of sorts, but still kicking. Do you have any news for me?"

"I should have been there," he laments, ignoring my question. His loyalty flares in his tone. "You wouldn't have been in danger if I had your back."

"I know, I know."

"I'm not joking,Padrino. How did that even happen? What were you doing there?" The questions tumble out, his protective nature overriding his usual reserve.

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You need to stop. You're not my mother."

A moment of silence stretches between us, and I feel somewhat guilty for sending him off to Mexico when having him by my side probably would have been a smarter choice. Plus, that's where he'd like to be. That silly Italian pride in him. The need to give his life to someone else for allegedly saving it when he was a teen. He would have done fine on his own, of course. I know it. But arguing with someone like Costa is useless.

"Obviously," he mutters a comment to my earlier remark.

"Look, Vlad and I, we made progress. Recovered the Brazilian shipment. But never mind the details that for now. I need to know if you have any updates for me."

There's a heavy pause. "Apparently, La Alianza are hiding someone important in a compound in Guanajuato. I'm certain that someone important is Shtyk."

"So, it's not Toro alone. La Alianza backs him up."

"Looks like it."

"Can you get inside that compound?"

"Padrino, it's a fortress. Getting in will be… difficult. And it may take time."

My mind races, strategies unfurling like a chessboard. "Use every resource you can get."

"Got it."

"But be discreet, Costa," I warn, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Quiet as the grave. Careful as a cat. We can't afford to tip our hand."

"I won't let you down," he affirms softly, then adds, "Even though I don't approve."

"I'm the one making decisions," I remind him.

"I know. And I'm the one doing whatever you tell me to do. Still, your safety is my priority and the Russian keeps putting your life in jeopardy. He's not good for you."

"I decide who's good for me, Costa. I'll be fine."

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