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those…those…thugs. They’re nothing
but a bunch of thieves and cutthroats. You’ll end up in jail, or
worse, get yourself killed!”
    He snorted at me again. “And just what do you think
will happen if I don’t , hmm? Have you even considered
that?”
    Finally, I saw it, the motivation behind his
decision. He stared hard at me, fear registering in his eyes, his
mouth a thin, rigid line of frustration.
    I shook my head. “No. Uh-uh. You can’t do this,
Nick. I won’t let you. I won’t.”
    “Yeah? Well, Dmitri Chernov and his man, Alexi—that
guy who just left with his own pet gorilla—they won’t let me not do this,” he countered. Then he laid his head back and
closed his eyes.
    Fresh anger coursed through my body. “We’ll see
about that.” I turned and headed for the door.
    “No, Tyler, stop! You stay away from them! You hear
me?” Nick pulled himself up in bed. “I’m not the only one they’re
threatening. They know about you now.” He paused and pressed his
lips together again. “And they know about Jillian, too.”
    I stopped in my tracks, anger coiling into fear, and
swung back around. “What did you say?”
    “You heard me, Ty. Stay out of my business. Let me
handle it. This is more complicated than you know. And there’s
nothing you can do about it now anyway. So just keep clear. Got
that, brother?”
    I stood there for a moment, my eyes locked with his.
I shook my head one last time.
    “No. Uh-uh. No way. This isn’t over, Nick. Not by a
long shot.” I glared hard at my brother then walked out.
    But my resolve to quickly rectify the situation
wavered when I considered Jillian’s safety, as well as Nick’s, for
I knew these men well, or at least their kind. Working as a general
contractor for so many years had brought me in contact with
numerous labor unions and the bosses who ruled them like feudal
lords over their fiefdoms. They were one and the same in the circle
of The City’s underworld. Ruthless and brutal in their methods to
maintain absolute control, they routinely squeezed the builders and
contractors for unfair advantage in gaining profitable contracts.
They certainly didn’t mind cracking a few skulls in the process, or
eliminating the competition altogether if they saw fit. So instead
of running carelessly into the lion’s den—Dmitri Chernov’s Little
Russia—with hunting rifle in hand, I spread word throughout the
union halls that I was looking for Alexi Batalov, Dmitri’s
mouthpiece and top diplomat, and now, apparently, Nick’s new
boss.
    I wasn’t sure what to expect, maybe some dark
assignation in a back alley, or perhaps being snatched off the
street, forced into the backseat of a waiting car, its windows
glazed dark against the observant passerby. Just like in the
movies. But it wasn’t as sinister as that. It was actually rather
ordinary, considering who I was dealing with, but unnerving
nonetheless.
    As I was eating lunch in a neighborhood café—my
neighborhood, not his—Alexi Batalov, shadowed by another one of
Dmitri’s brutishly large men, sauntered in and sat down at my
table. He had that same presumptuous grin he wore at the hospital,
all confident and easy going.
    “Thank you for the invitation, my friend,” he said,
carefully articulating every syllable.
    His English was perfect, clear and precise, barely
marred by his accent. I had the feeling it was something he was
quite proud of, and I was inexplicably irritated by that, as I was
by his dress and mannerisms, both executed with impeccable taste
and deliberate propriety. But to me, it felt like he held himself
in the highest regard, and I was but a nuisance. It caused a hot
flare of acrimony to ignite deep within my belly.
    “I wasn’t aware I’d invited you,” I replied as
casually as I could, though I was rattled that he’d located me,
choosing a crowded public venue for a confrontation.
    “No? Then what is this I hear about you wanting to
meet with me?” he asked.
    I swallowed