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“They will start a war, and every crime family that has been hit with the container of painted ladies will think it was us.” Urie blows out a breath. “Why haven’t Marco or my father just given them what they want? Surely nothing can be worth more than starting a country-wide mob war.”
“It’s worse than just a country-wide mob war.” Urie’s jaw clamps. “There is a container on the way to Europe that slipped past inspection.”
“From our dock?” I look at him. “How the fuck did that happen?”
“The same login that was used to send the containers,” Urie explains, “passed the container, and it was gone before we could stop it.”
“Who’s fucking login was used?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Your brother’s!” Urie tells me, and I spew the sip of vodka I’ve just taken all over my desk.
“Has it been shut down?” Anger and shock are sparking through me. “To pass the older codes, you’d need top authorization, which would have to come only from my mother for Velvet Transport.”
“No.” Urie shakes his head. “Not for your brother’s or your codes.”
“Son of a bitch,” I snap. “So you’re telling me whoever’s using my brother’s old login has full access to our systems?” My brow furrows. “How can that be?”
“We’ve kept it interfaced with the old system to make it easier to log all the non-digital content,” Urie explains. “It’s easier to add all the manual entries into the older system and then have them converted to the new one. Instead of having a mess of having two sets of codes on the new system.”
“You know that tech shit’s not my thing,” I say. “All I can see is that by keeping two systems running, we’ve created a vulnerability that someone with iron balls is exploiting.” I take another sip. “Did Hannah say if my father and Marco have an idea of who’s behind this?”
“All she said is that whoever it is, they have your father and Marco scared shitless,” Urie replies.
“Who would dare scare or hack into a system owned by two of the most dangerous men in America?” I say.
“Someone more powerful and dangerous,” Urie says. “Your father and Marco only have another five days to give them what they want before a ship full of painted ladies and the Feds arrive on the doorstep of Roman Zhukov in Moscow.”
“Fuck, you’re kidding!” My heart lurches, and shock waves are now zapping through me. “These fuckers are messing with the most powerful bratva in Europe, if not the world?”
“Now you know why your father and Marco are terrified,” Urie says. “Yet they’re still not handing over whatever it is these people want.”
The man at the club with the green eyes flashes through my mind, and a terrifying thought grips me. “What if it’s not a what but a who?”
Chapter 11
ISABELLA
Present Day - Moretti Mansion - Commonwealth Avenue, Back Bay
All I want to do is stand and stare at my birthday present from Andrey. I’m blown away that he actually took the time to find out what I wanted. I know I should get back to the guests, but I’ve already had two hours of torture. Being alone with my thoughts is a relief.
There’s only so long I can keep a smile plastered on my face before my jaw starts to ache and I get a tension headache. I look toward our driveway and wonder where Stacy is. She was at the Belov’s house for the wedding, but she was absent from my house. I asked her parents where she was, and as usual, they were surprised to find their daughter wasn’t there.
Fuck, do they even care where Stacy is? When we were younger, I used to think how lucky Stacy was that her parents never seemed to care where she was. But now I think it’s pretty fucked up. I’d rather have had an overprotective parent that worried about me than one that didn’t.
“Bella-Bop?” Davey’s voice startles me, and I turn to see him smile.
“Hi, Davey,” I greet him, returning his smile. “Enjoying the party?”
“It’s kinda hard to do that when the guest of honor isn’t,” Davey says with a shrug. “Not that it isn’t a good party. Your father always throws a great spread.”
“Yup.” I nod.
“Nice wheels.” Davey steps up beside me.
“Thanks,” I say and sigh. “Pity I’m not going to drive it again.”
Davey’s eyebrow raises. “About that…” He inclines his head, wanting me to follow him. “As soon as the main festivities begin, I’ll swap the plates with your getaway one and swap the cars.”
