Page 130 of Scarlet Promise
Santo laughs. “Are you crazy, Demyan?”
Demyan smiles. “Perhaps. Although perhaps not. You probably don’t remember this, but a long time ago, my father did a massive favor for your father. A huge favor. One so bigand important that it allowed your father to keep control of his mafia.Yourmafia now.”
The big man pales a little. “So?”
“I’ve never wanted anything to do with you or your mafia, so I never asked for that favor to be repaid. Until now.”
Santo shakes his head and walks away, muttering to himself, then he downs his drink and comes back to Demyan.
I keep an eye on them and the door. No one comes in.
I do give Santo credit for not raising an alarm at our presence. He still could, though.
But taking him down isn’t on my list of things to do.
He’s not the nicest to deal with, but in his own way, he follows the rules. He’ll play hardball and slip in curves, but he still plays ball.
Besides, if we kill him, we may have a hard time getting out in one piece.
“You can’t call in a favor twenty years later,” he says to Demyan.
Demyan tuts and looks Santo dead in the eye.
“I can do whatever the fuck I like. Besides, do you really want to be known as a man who doesn’t honor the promises made by your predecessor? Your father, no less?” Demyan asks. “If you don’t agree to this, I’ll destroy you.”
“That sounds like a threat,” Santo mutters.
“Think of it more as a promise,” Demyan says. “Besides, allies are better to have than enemies, and right now, Ilya, for reasons of his own, says you’re a man of his word.”
I’m not sure I said that exactly, but I let it slide.
Santo glares at Demyan and gives me a hard side-eye, but then he sighs. “If I have to, I will.”
“You do,” Demyan says. “Just look at this as opening new roads and taking everything you want from Simonov’s organization. Once he’s gone, as well as the top four men—youknow who I’m talking about—the whole thing will fall apart. And it’ll be there for the taking. I’d take.”
“You…” Santo hesitates. “Why should I do any of this?”
But there’s a glimmer in his eyes. He’s smart. He wants to do it, but not alone. He wanted more than just Simonov’s territory. But he did lose men when he came to help me the first time, no matter his motives.
“Simonov killed your men, too. Remember that,” I say. “And I’m looking for people to coexist with.”
Coexist means allies even if we never work together. It means not treading on toes. It means stronger and better smuggling routes.
Demyan’s the hammer. I’m not. I’m the negotiator, the facilitator. I see the things people need and find a way to get them to work if it’s a good deal. This is, whether he sees it or not, a good deal.
“So is Demyan,” I add. “We all have assets that will be of use to each other in the future. It doesn’t mean selling out, or forming a partnership. Look on it as friends with benefits.”
Demyan stays silent, giving me the space. And I take it. I’m at home in this arena. Not being pakhan. But a strong second, a trusted second, one who can use the softer approach when Demyan and others can’t.
“I’ll do it. I’ll leave you alone.” Santo’s lip curls, and he motions for Demyan to put his glass down. Which he does after draining it. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”
We go, gladly.
When we get into our car, Demyan shakes his head. “Coexist? Your men died so get revenge for them? Oh, and you’ll get friends that come with benefits? Is this nursery school, Ilya?”
I laugh at how Russian he sounds. “It’s always nursery school. I do that shit so you don’t have to. You don’t have to like him. He can be an ally if it ever comes down to it, and territoriesare better if people aren’t trying to start fights and wars with each other.”
He nods, and then he looks at me. “Are you okay with what happened? He wanted a lot from you.”
