"Just kill me already. Orla was a bitch, and her nephews were idiots. They deserved what they got. O'Leary is just pissed because she went slumming for dick."
E-Z and I share a knowing smile. That response right there will help cement our plan with Orla’s family.
"You better start begging for your life."
"Either kill me or start sucking my dick to make this worth my time," he responds. He’s either cocky as fuck or accepted his fate already. It doesn’t really matter to me. I’ve got what I need.
"Fine," I answer, leaning over and grabbing the knife off the table. The one that was stuck in Sergei’s chest. “I’ll kill you with the same knife that you used to end the life of Sergei.” I quickly stab him in the chest, red blooming on his shirt.
E-Z cuts off the recording, and it’s just in time as Bones mutters out a reply.
“I didn't kill him.”
"You and I know that, but the Bratva won't. The good news is you'll be dead, so you won't have to worry about them getting even.” I slowly pull out the knife, watching him wince, trying to hold back a painful moan before stabbing it into the side of his neck, putting him out of his misery.
"He made that too easy for us," E-Z says, standing there looking at Bones’s body.
"That's because he has shit for brains," I mumble, looking at the asshole again as blood slowly trickles down his body. I pull off my gloves and let them drop to the rug.
"When are we meeting with the Bratva?" E-Z asks.
"We are leaving from here with the bodies to go to the safehouse that the Ruin set up to meet with the representative of the Bratva and the head of Orla's family—her brother. So, we need to get the pictures taken and get them loaded back on the plane—and do that while people are still not moving around to see us.”
"Already got the pictures and the backups. My men did that for me while you were doing your thing. They’ll get the bodies in the van and take care of Bones. We’ll head out. As it is, you're barely giving yourself time to breathe," E-Z responds, surprising me. I should have known he’d make sure everything was running smoothly.
"I need all this done before I go back to jail. I'd also like to have one day with my wife before that." I frown. I don’t like dealing with this kind of shit normally, but right now knowing I should be in bed with my wife makes it even worse.
E-Z claps me on the back, "We better get hurry up then."
"I love you like a brother, and I appreciate you handling all this shit for me, E-Z," I breathe. I’m not a man who says what he’s thinking easily, but I do owe him.
"I know damn well you'd do the same for me."
"Yeah, that’s true. Still, asshole, if you touch my wife's hair again, I'm going to kill you," I mutter as E-Z starts to laugh.
"When are you going to let that shit go?" E-Z asks, shaking his head.
"Probably never." That only makes him laugh harder as I walk out the door. E-Z follows, leaving his men to clean up the mess.
CHAPTER 41
KILLIAN
There’s a sense of respect that has to hit you when you sit at this table. The Ruin owns this property, which basically means the groups in our organization view this land as a Catholic would view consecrated land. It’s sacred, a haven where you are forbidden to fight and kill. All families and organizations must adhere to the rules. It’s been good to unite us all. There’s a lot less fighting than there were in the old days. Anything that limits lives lost is for the better in my book.
The room we’re in has an ancient architectural feel to it with a large stone fireplace and shelves that could crush a man if they fell. The shelves are full of books—books so old that several are first editions and worth over half a million dollars each. There are rumors that there’s a Coverdale Bible from the fifteen hundred’s that’s worth over seven hundred thousand alone.
This conference table is granite and sits in the middle of the room. It’s framed in by seven plush seats that are covered in the best Italian leather. With the fire going and the light flickering off us, it adds the feeling of age to an already ancient room. The heat feels good, but I’m too keyed up to relax. This is a make it or break it moment. None of us are men that people want to tangle with. A rift that can’t be healed here is something that will have serious repercussions—mostly for the O’Leary’s, since there’s no way our firepower could outweigh that of the Bratva. Still, we could make the Bratva hurt, so I doubt they want us as an enemy. We are as good as dead if they don't believe this story.