Page 42 of Weaponized

Victor nods and then steps to the front of our group. “Gentlemen! Good evening!” His dimpled smile greets them. I guess it’s been decided that I’ll join the party. Luca curses under his breath.

The men lead the way into the dining room and I have to physically push Luca ahead of me. He doesn’t want to leave my side, but that’s not how it’s done here. He keeps a tight hold of my hand but lets me trail behind him.

I’m seated between Luca and his father. Victor seems to manipulate the table so that will be the case. The Russians are pulling out chairs for their women and I lean over to whisper in Victor’s ear.

“I couldn’t hear the last part well. Something about 12th Street and someone called Little or Tiny having fixed the cameras tonight so they can get the job done while we are here. The short guy over there was supposed to send an order when we entered for dinner.” I say all of this in rapid Italian as I don’t want to risk being overheard. “That’s all I could make out. They need to keep us here for now, and once some 12th Street job is done, they can set up an ambush for later. Something that won’t be tied to them…but he didn’t say why. I’m sure of the words, I just don’t know what they mean.”

Victor stiffens. His spine is ramrod straight and his face has turned to stone. “I know what they mean. You did very well, la mia spia preferita. Thank you,” he tells me brusquely, calling me his favorite spy.

He pulls out his phone and begins typing briskly. He looks up and smiles broadly at the table. “Just a last-minute issue to take care of. Business never rests.” His thumbs continue to fly and then he finally looks up. “A toast?”

The man with the scar nods eagerly. “A toast!” he shouts back.

“To beautiful women,” Victor says, looking around the table. Then his eyes meet mine. “And to building new trust.”

We all raise our glasses. Luca sets his big palm across my knee under the tablecloth. His thumb begins his normal sweeping pattern, back and forth, back and forth.His eyes remain focused on the men around the table. Looking for any threat.

The men talk about vacations and boating as we are served salads. They agree that Zurich is a lovely place. I’ve never been on a vacation. However, I did study geography and architecture, so I can understand the conversation. I listen with a polite smile fixed to my face and force myself to take tiny sips of the white wine. I take note of Victor surreptitiously watching his phone under the table.

When it is time to order dinner, the men order for their women. Luca orders us both chicken piccata and asks for me to be brought Sauvignon Blanc. Specifies that it should be from New Zealand. He squeezes my fingers as he hands the server my barely touched glass of chardonnay. I glance over to check on Elizabeth. Despite the serene look on her face, I’m beginning to regret dragging her along.

The guy across from me makes a comment about my breasts in Russian to the scar-faced man. I pretend not to hear them. There is slight laughter.

Victor leans into me. “Laughing at us?” There is an edge to his voice.

“Just me,” I tell him softly, so Luca doesn’t overhear.

Victor quirks an eyebrow. “They recognize you?”

“I don’t know. They aren’t talking about my face.”

Luca leans in. “You okay, Angel?” I give him a nod and smile in return. I refuse to cause issues.

“They will regret it, Gráinne,” Victor promises me under his breath. I shake my head, but our dinners are being served.

We are quiet as everyone samples the entrees on their gorgeous china plates.I notice the women have smaller portions.

“I am glad you agreed to meet with us tonight. I believe we have much to discuss,” Scarface announces.

“Why is that, Nikolai?”

I have to stop my jaw from hitting the ground as Luca is the one to speak up. I didn’t expect him to take a leading role in this conversation and I’m not sure I like it. However, I remind myself that I am here as decoration and try my damnedest to keep a pleasant look on my face. I cut my vegetables into small pieces. I need something to do with my hands.

“For some time, we have suspected Nicopolis’s men have been stealing pieces of our trade.”

“What cause do you have to believe that?” Luca again questions. His voice is stern as he swirls the whiskey in his glass. The version of Luca that I once found scary is back. This is not the same gentle giant who cuddles me close in class.

“We have been tracing their moves. They always seem to be in the same areas as cargo when it goes missing. Only pieces of it. Never whole containers.”

“And why do you think this would interest us? We are not in the same business.” My man has leaned forward, steepling his fingers.

Oh my God. Are they talking about the Bratva’s trafficking activities? Are they saying the Greeks are literally stealing their kidnapped women? I tell myself to breathe. I fight to keep a neutral expression as I contemplate whether I could personally kill these sick assholes.

“No. We are not in the same business. However, the Greeks have two main product lines. Ours and yours.Ours is simply a little…prettier.” That answers my question. The Italians’ main product line is weaponry.

“And, given that we aren’t interested in yourprettyproducts, why do you think they may cause us issues?” Luca asks. Why isn’t Victor speaking? I don’t understand any of this. My father would never let anyone else be part of the dialogue.

“Have they not already?” The man who was interested in my breasts asks. Scarface—Nikolai—quiets him in Russian. Luca’s hand tightens on my knee. Apparently his family’s having some issue and the Bratva knows of it. Not good. I take a small bite, chew slowly.

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