Page 8 of Fixate
CHAPTER 4
Pharrell
“How the fuckdoes money disappear from an armored car that made no stops?”
Silence met my calm question.
I waited, eager to see who might step up to reply. Which of my men would remain loyal.
As I suspected, Jean and Tommaso both stepped forward. Jean spoke first.
“We’re trying to pull camera footage, sir.”
“Henri said he’d call as soon as he heard from his guy,” Tommaso added.
Henri’s guy was a hacker we occasionally sent work out to. I’d vetted the young guy a few years back when the world began shifting to more digital means. While everyone else got on board early on, there were still plenty of made men who hated the conversion — me being one of them.
There was beauty in meeting up to sign a contract or having a message delivered the old-fashioned way. It gave you more time to plan your strategies.
Nowadays, we had to work quickly against our enemies.
Thankfully, there weren’t many. Not since I’d signed an alliance with the Bratva in exchange for a wife. They’d agreed to a truce, though it was more a ceasefire than a full working alliance.
Stasia, my wife, had been trying to convince her uncle to be more understanding. As head of the Bratva, he held all the control over what they would and wouldn’t do.
And while he loved his niece dearly, he loved having power more. It fed his ego, which, in my opinion, needed nothing more. He was already making enough foolish choices in his role.
Namely, marrying off the only true heir to their organization to a man in a rival faction.
There wasn’t another option at the time though. We’d been battling each other for far too long with no end in sight.
I wasn’t a stupid man. When the proposal for marriage came, I said yes fairly quickly after laying out my own stipulations.
Since then, Stasia and I had worked out an agreement. She was my wife in name and business only. We were not romantic in any way.
While she wouldn’t have minded more, I couldn’t fathom an intimate relationship with her. Not when I was attracted to men.
Sure, Stasia was beautiful. I knew it, as did the men around me. There was no doubt I’d gotten blessed in that department.
Yet I never changed my mind. There was no ‘choice’ to it.
Speaking of my wife, she was the one who coordinated this particular shipment. She was going to be furious when she found out it wasn’t complete.
As if my thoughts held power to conjure her, I heard the distinct sound of heels clicking through the warehouse. All the men froze at the sound, their bodies tightening even further.
I grinned. My wife was a huge asset to things in my business.
Where I was more reserved in my frustrations, she was an inferno with men. She kept up the farce of a soft-spoken wife inmixed company, but behind closed doors, she could wield a knife and gun with the best of them.
It was yet another reason I couldn’t understand her family letting her go so easily. Even years into the arrangement, I questioned it from time to time. Why allow such a natural talent leave their ranks? Especially someone perfect for this life like Stasia.
“Sorry I’m late, boys. I had to have a talk with a man about what respect and consent meant,” she said with a wicked grin.
Dressed in the highest heels she could find, an immaculate black pantsuit, and wearing a bold red lip, she looked the part of a vixen. But it was the tiny red spots of blood on her white blouse that told me she showed the man his lesson with more than a few words.
“Stas,” I called out to get her attention. When she looked my way, I pointed to her shirt.
A glance down had her unleashing a slew of Russian curses. “I told the bastard not to bleed on me. Fucker.”
