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I pass a group of my men idling in the hallway, and I bark a few orders at them. “Watch the windows,” I say. “No slacking.”
They rise to attention and take positions at every window down the hall. I’m sure they don’t enjoy doing such dull work, but I don’t pay them to have fun. Besides, it’s better than the alternative.
In the Bratva, a boring day is always better than an interesting one.
The last time something genuinely interesting happened was yesterday, when I found out that Lola was pregnant with my baby.
Before that, the most interesting thing had been when I came face to face with Lorenzo Pessolano, the head of the Pessolano Family, while I was out filling my Rolls Royce with gas in Austin. Circumstances didn’t allow me to jump into action and put a bullet in the back of his head, which I would’ve done without a second thought. As it was the middle of the day and he was surrounded by bodyguards, all I could do was watch from behind my car as he went in to buy a few things and left just as quickly as he came.
I doubt he saw me then, but if he sees me now, all bets are off. One of us is going to die, and I’m going to make damn sure it isn’t me.
I’m sure he’s pissed that I’ve taken his train, but I’m equally as annoyed that he’s unknowingly transporting my family heirloom to be chopped up and sold to cheap jewelry stores around the east coast.
I’m getting that damn ruby back, even if it kills me.
I return to the cabin where Lola is studying the chess board again, playing a match with herself. She’s clearly a master, but she doesn’t want to admit it. She’s having too much fun making a fool out of me, but I’m happy to lose to someone who knows how to play. It’s not often I get to go up against such a capable opponent.
Or such an attractive one.
“Everything is in order,” I announce as Lola looks up from the chess board. “You want to play another game?”
Her blue eyes widen in surprise, but she quickly remakes the board and gestures to the seat across from her. “Ready to lose again?”
“Probably,” I reply with a chuckle, sitting down and moving a pawn forward. I’m going to play it safe this time. No need to get ahead of myself. She’s too good to make mistakes just because I’m playing aggressively.
“So, everything is good?” she asks, opening the game as usual.
“Perfectly fine. Nikolai is flying fuel up from Texas, and we should be able to load up and get going again without much delay. As long as he drops it close to the tracks, we’re golden.”
“Seems like a lot of effort to go through,” she says, shaking her head and moving another piece. “I mean, I know you said there was something particularly valuable on this train, but the amount of money and risk you’re putting into this is substantial.”
“Maybe it’s time I tell you about it,” I reply, pulling a piece back to defend my knight.
Lola raises an eyebrow. “Playing it safe?”
“I’ve taken enough risks already.”
“I hope this one isn’t going to push you over the edge,” she replies, moving her bishop across the board.
I study our positions carefully, trying to figure out her plan. “The train has something valuable on it. Lorenzo Pessolano, the head of the Italian Mafia, probably doesn’t know about it. To him, it’s just another jewel.” I move a pawn forward one square. “To me, its everything.”
“Must cost an awful lot,” she says, quickly countering with a pawn of her own.
“A few million, but that’s not where the real value lies. It’s actually a family heirloom, with a Russian poem engraved into the back and a gold crest inlaid on the front. It was stolen from the house two years ago, and I’ve spent a lot of time and money tracing it. I believe it’s on this train.”
She looks up from the board, frowning deeply. “Why didn’t you tell me that? If I had known I was transporting a stolen heirloom, I would’ve stopped the train myself so that the authorities could search it.”
I shake my head. “Police are worse than Lorenzo, believe me. If I saw that motherfucker, I’d put a bullet in his head. I can’t say the same about the cops. They’d never leave me alone if I shot one of them.”
I move another piece, realizing the attack play she’s set up.
Not so fast, little one. The game is going to be mine this time.
Her frown deepens as she realizes what I’ve done. “Dammit,” she mutters. “Okay, before I move, tell me more about this Lorenzo guy. You two don’t get along, I presume.”
“Not in the least,” I reply, leaning back in my seat. “A year ago, he murdered one of my good friends, a man named Gabriel. He helped us out when Nikolai was in a pinch with the Mexican Cartel. I honestly thought the man was untouchable, but after he crossed Lorenzo, the entire Italian Mafia came down on him. Ultimately, Lorenzo was the one to pull the trigger and take his life.”
Something awakens inside of me as I tell the story to Lola. For me, death happens all the time, but seeing her look of horror reminds me of what his family must’ve felt when they heard of his death.
