CHAPTER 75
CHRISTIAN ‘VICIOUS’ VOLKOV.
“Nah man, I was doing this for you. For us, man! With you gone, someone needed to step up, show all these
motherfuckers that whatever Vic started still goes strong. Come on, Vic, while you’ve been off prancing around the Eiffel Tower, business’ been booming.”
I’d correct him that the Eiffel Tower is in France not Italy but what’s the use of teaching a dead man some fucking geography?
“Shut up.”
Maximo grabs him by the collar.
The wind whistles around us as the cicadas chirp inciting every bit of brutishness I feel towards the man kneeling on the ground in front of an already dug grave.
Troy Sullivan did this to himself.
Funny thing is he still sees us as business partners.
In his warped mind he still thinks he’s walking out of this alive.
“An ex-army seal, a good cop, never gave an undeserving ticket, never took bribes from any of the shitty men that run illegal operations in Chicago, went to church every Sunday, hell he probably told the pastor to bless his three girls.
Three girls, Troy! The cop you killed had three girls, that cop you killed lost his wife to breast cancer two years ago. He was those three girls’ fucking breadwinner and they have no one right now.”
“He sniffed around where he shouldn’t.”
Troy says not in the least bit remorseful.
I kill. I have always killed.
But even with a name like mine and a mobster lineage following you for generations, a man has gotta draw a line in the sand somewhere.
Killing good people is where I draw the line.
I don’t kill to kill. I kill people who deserve it and that cop sure as hell did not deserve a bullet to the chest.
“He pulled you over for speeding. You think I’m not up to date? You think I’m not well aware of that trigger happy finger you have against cops? You drove past the limit; he pulled you over and you shot him dead cold in the chest. Traffic cams have that on tape.”
Troy chuckles, Maximo doesn’t release him.
“Yet I’m a walking free man. See you understand me, Vic. I get that the cop was an inconvenience to operations but-.”
The more words he spews the more aggravated I get.
It took almost a day to hunt him down.
A day from my woman and our children.
I’m on edge. I’m even sick from not seeing her or being with her all because of this piece of shit.
Maximo doesn’t need any words from me.
He pulls his clip, aims his gun at Troy shooting the man in an instant.
Troy’s body falls limp into the grave.
Jude starts shoveling back the sand into the grave and I walk away into the night, exhausted as fuck.
My little nurse might be asleep at the moment. The thought of even calling her when my moods are awry pangs at my throat.
I can’t speak to her. not when my demons lurk close. Not when guilt eats my conscience.
A dead good cop.
Three orphaned girls who I’m going to make sure they get adopted by a family who’ll do right by them.
Then there’s Troy. A man I should have put down a long ago. He was unhinged. He had it coming. He had it coming.
The weight of it all feels like an anvil crushing me and it doesn’t stop.
Not when Jefferson Miller’s, name Chicago PD’s chief; flocks my screen.
I pick it up.
He mumbles a location and twenty minutes later I’m seated in a café that reminds me of the woman I left home.
Did she eat well? I told Brenda to get a few pastries, not too much sugar for the baby, but too much sugar to calm the sweet tooth Alexia has.
“I’ve looked for evidence to put you behind bars once and for all. And I should pin this on you, I should pin this murder on you.”
“I know.”
Jefferson gazes at his cup of black coffee, swirling his finger against the rim of his cup before he looks up to me.
White silver hair, age finally catching up to him judging from the small warts and the wrinkles on his sagging skin, Jefferson Miller looks like he’s seventy instead of sixty.
“He was a good man. I went to his daughter’s quinceanara. I watched him spiral after his wife’s death. I was going to lay the badge so that he could take over.”
I don’t say anything to that.
I have no words to say to that honestly.
“You’re a slick fucker but you don’t…you’ve never put down anyone who didn’t deserve it. Troy Sullivan did this. One of your men-.”
“Not anymore.”
“He’s dead?” Jefferson asks, not in the least bit surprised.
“The cop’s death was placed as a hit and run accident. I have footage from the jam cams and I know you do too, why didn’t you arrest Troy?”
“He didn’t deserve to breathe. If you weren’t involved in this, I knew you’d take him out.”
Of course. Jefferson isn’t exactly a good cop but he wouldn’t taint his hands with someone’s blood either.
“Troy Sullivan will not be a problem anymore. I promise.”
I’m about to call this a night.
Hop on my plane fly back to my favorite place-mine and Alexia’s bed but it’s never too easy with cops.
“I brought in Troy’s minions for questioning and they squeaked quite a lot about you.”
“You brought me here to arrest me?”
“Put cuffs on the King of Sicily? I’m not dumb but the evidence I have about you is invaluable not only to Chicago but to-.”
“What do you want?”
He takes his sip of the coffee.
I haven’t taken a sip of mine since we got here.
“My daughter’s in town–.”
“I’m not fucking your daughter.”
“I wouldn’t want you as a son-in-law either, Volkov but a little quid pro quo tonight won’t hurt. My daughter is right across the street.”
I look past the glass of the small café we are in, gazing at the Brazilian cuisine restaurant opposite us.
“She got dumped tonight. I know that because I paid her boyfriend to dump her to see if he was serious about her. He left a few minutes ago, leaving her alone to nurse the heartbreak.”
And I thought my father was cruel.
“Where do I get into this?”
I’m not fucking nor touching his daughter.
“She blames herself. Probably tells herself there’s something wrong with her. Assure her there’s nothing wrong with her.”
I didn’t even know he had a daughter.
“I have a woman.”
Pregnant. Pretty. Waiting for me.
“Christ, I’m not telling you to marry my daughter, Volkov.
XxX
Brunette, one brown eye and another blue eye, small frame, perfect bone structure, Jefferson Miller’s daughter doesn’t look nearly as ugly as him.
Quite frankly, I’m thankful on her behalf she took after her mother’s features and not her father’s.
Other than that, there’s nothing interesting about the woman seated in front of me.
She smiles nervously, apologizing every ten seconds as she dabs at her running mascara.
“Your father forced me to be here. I’m not going to lie and pretend I’m thrilled being here either but if I’m going to watch you sob, I owe you the truth. That scumbag you are crying for doesn’t deserve you. Matter of fact, I don’t think he was meant for you in the first place but this is good. Some people are meant to leave our lives so others can step in and show you being you matters and the rest of the world can go fuck itself.”
She sobs again.
“S-sorry, sorry…these tears aren’t for Jason, I promise. I think I already knew he didn’t love me, he was in love with the idea of me. Dating a model is all the hype these days and I’m not just that…you know? I’m more than my body.”
Another dab at her eyes.
Another swell of pity dwelling her features.
“Jason sounds like a prick”, I say.
She laughs.
“Yeah he was. Four years and not even a ring on my finger let alone a declaration of love.”
My ears perk.
“How long does one have to wait before you propose?”
“Ooh, I umm…depends on the relationship? You want to propose to your girlfriend?”
That term girlfriend pisses me off.
“She’s my wife but she doesn’t know it yet. Putting a ring on her finger makes it official at least for her. I’m content either way.”
“Well your girl—your wife seems like a lucky woman, Christian and the way you talk about her, I think you should go for it. Marry her.”
I will.
“And you? Where do you go from Jason?”
“I don’t know…I really don’t.”
“I’ve got a friend. Kai Davenport, you’ve heard of him. You two would look together, Jessica.”
“Are you setting me up with your friend on our ‘non-date’?”
“He’s at least better than Jason, I can guarantee that.”
And he’s a single and lonely bastard burying himself in work every chance he gets.
“Can’t wait to meet him. I think I’m done moping around. Thank you and I’ll be sure to thank my father.”
“Anytime. You ready to go?”
Escorting Jessica Miller to her car isn’t the easiest feat, especially when the paparazzi pounce on us like a hound of dogs with a juicy bone.
***
Haven’t slept a wink since I started mobilizing Guepos and Troy’s minions.
Troy’s sister, Glynn put herself first in taking over Troy’s spot. She hated him. I didn’t know why. And I didn’t want to prod further.
The problem of putting a woman in charge is that there’s always going to be a bunch of sexists causing trouble.
Sexists who’ve been driving me bonkers. I might be in Chicago for a while and as soon as I tell the blondie, I watch the three dots on my screen dance around.
Sunshine: Because you are too busy entertaining Miss Universe?
What?
Me: You’re going to have to be more specific. Miss Universe?
She doesn’t text back.
I wait.
Ten minutes later, I call her.
She doesn’t pick up. Goes straight to voicemail.
I call the only person available in my mansion. At least who’s loyal enough to do my bidding.
“My wife, where is she right now?”
“Just a minute. Found her. She’s in the garden.” Jett speaks. I release a sigh of relief.
“Alone? With no phone?”
“With Yan and I can see her phone in her pocket.”
Yan. Of course, Yan is there.
Her phone might be off.
“I want to speak to her, Jett. Get your phone to her.”
Jett cuts the call and when my phone rings again, I expect to hear my little nurse’s voice, only to be met with Jett’s voice again.
“She says she doesn’t want to speak with you, boss.”
What the actual…
“Is she there?”
“Yes.”
“Give her the phone.”
“Boss, still the same answer.”
I cut the call. Peeved at best.
Guess I’m taking the first flight home.
And I’m skinning Yan for whatever shit he said to make my woman mad at me.