“That’s my intent, sir.”
He raised his eyebrows at me and then glanced to Andrey.
“I don’t believe you’ve met,” he said. “Andrey Severinov, Evan Arden.”
“Good to finally meet you in person, sir.” I shook his hand as well.
“I know you by reputation,” Andrey said. He had a slight Russian accent that was not shared by his nephew. “I have to admit to being a little surprised in the way that we are meeting.”
“Things change,” I said simply. I nodded at both Craig and Micah and then took my seat across from the two men in charge.
“We shall see,” Andrey responded curtly.
“Ultimately, Mister Arden, I don’t trust you.” Greco leaned back and put his beefy arms up to lace his hands behind his head. I wanted to tie them back there and maybe knock him to the ground head first before putting a bullet in his brain, but I had to keep up pretenses.
“I can understand that, sir,” I replied. “We haven’t exactly been operating on the same side in the past. I can assure you, though, my loyalties simply come with a price tag associated with them.”
“You saying that Moretti doesn’t pay you enough anymore?”
It wasn’t an unexpected question, but I paused long enough to make him believe I had to think about it.
“My loyalty can be bought,” I said sternly. “My disloyalty, however—that gets earned.”
“And how exactly did this occur?” Greco wanted to know.
“I expect my employer to have my back if I end up in the slammer,” I said succinctly. “He didn’t. I’m done with him.”
“That’s it?”
“You don’t think that’s enough?” My tone was daring but only slightly. I narrowed my eyes to show my anger over the situation, and Greco seemed to buy into it.
“So now you are looking for other employment,” Gavino stated.
“From someone with the means to pay me, yes, sir,” I confirmed.
Gavino nodded his head slowly and then glanced at Andrey, who also nodded.
“What do you say to a trial run?” Greco suggested.
“Tell me what you have in mind.” I leaned back in my seat and took out a cigarette. Both Gavino and Andrey watched as I lit it and dropped the lighter back into my pocket. I looked back to Gavino and waited for him to explain.
“There is a man—a nuisance, shall we say?—who I would like to see out of my hair.”
“Name him.” I made sure I didn’t change my expression at all, though I had no idea what name he might pull out of his ass and demand I kill as a way of proving I’d work for him. It could be anyone.
“Lenny Yates.”
I knew the guy. He wasn’t all that high up in Rinaldo’s organization, and if I was going to be completely honest, I didn’t mind doing the hit, not that he was an asshole or anything, but because he wasn’t very important to the organization as a whole. He was more of a gofer than anything, which is why Greco had so much information on him in the first place. He was put out there to be an easier target than those who might actually be missed—a patsy to take the brunt of the violence directed toward the group if the time ever came.
Looked like the time had come.
“Consider it done,” I replied. I took a long drag off my cigarette and blew smoke up into the air. “You want his actual head delivered to you, or will a photo suffice?”
“You don’t want to know why I want him out of the way?”
“If you care to say,” I replied, “but it doesn’t make any difference to me. That’s how I operate—I don’t need justification for what I do—just a name. You want it done, so I’ll do it. I’m assuming you’re going to refuse to pay me once it’s done, so let’s get all the bullshit out of the way up front, all right?”
Greco smirked.