Year of the Scorpio: Part Two

by Stacy Gail

  Cap Fogelmann’s face twisted ever so slightly, as though he’d just caught a whiff of something rancid. “You’ve clearly misunderstood our operation, Mr. Schott. Under no circumstance does this company help criminals get away with their crimes. We’ve agreed to keep you in hiding until this situation is resolved at the behest of Polo Scorpeone, because you possess valuable intel. If you’re looking to build a new life since you’ve corrupted the one you currently have, your best bet is to turn yourself in either to the police or the FBI, and take your chances with them.”

  “But you helped Scorpio—”

  “Who put himself in front of a sniper’s bullet that was meant for Dasha Vitaliev. I would be honored to have a man like Polo Scorpeone on my team fulltime, thanks to his dedication to duty and courage under fire, so please do not draw comparisons between the two of you. You only embarrass yourself. As far as I’m concerned, there is no comparison.”

  My heart swelled at this praise, but I kept my expression bland as I turned to Schott. “You were asked a question, Mr. Schott. Are you going to answer who really has you in their pocket, or are you going to continue to be vile to the very last and keep looking for ways to only serve yourself?”

  “Oh, I’ll be happy to tell you, sweetheart,” came the vicious reply. “Your loving brother, Knives Vitaliev, had me targeting your ass every step of the way. While he was consoling you on one hand about all the shit you were going through, he was paying me to put you through that shit with the other. If I’d caught you up in the dragnet when I busted up that poker game, your brother was perfectly content with you being strip-searched. Even more than that, he was okay with me pushing your harassment all the way up to having you raped in a cell, if I could find a way to arrange it. How’s that for sharing? Am I no longer vile to you? Or have you finally figured out that the real vile one around here is your own fucking brother?”

  “Oh, you can be vile too,” I allowed, and even managed a cutting smile while inside the nightmarish truth of his words ground down on me until it was almost impossible to breathe. “I just wanted you to say it out loud so everyone here got the complete picture of just how involved you are. You’re the one owned by Knives to help start a war between the Vitalievs and the Scorpeones.”

  “I know a lot of cops who’d say that’s just cleaning out the garbage.”

  “You’re also the one who planted Knives’s associate Ollie at the poker game to cast guilt on the Scorpeone clan in what was to come,” I went on without missing a beat. “You’re the one who made it possible for Ollie and my bodyguard, Konstantin, to meet at that poker game. And that means that at least in part, you’re the one who is responsible for this.” I picked up the remote and aimed it at the massive flat screen TV embedded in the conference room’s wall. A second later, the image of a hotel hallway appeared. Almost immediately a door opened and two men carried a third between them—Kon, who had clearly been incapacitated. A fourth man, smaller and wearing a ball cap, brought up the rear to casually hang a Do Not Disturb sign on the door before locking it behind him. I froze it just as he turned to walk down the hall, and gestured to the screen. “That ball cap hides a lot, but it doesn’t hide the cleft in his chin or the tragus piercing and double lobe piercing in his right ear.”

  “We had this section of video digitally enhanced, if there are any lingering doubts that those piercings and cleft chin are identical to Oliver Neubauer,” Yuri offered, holding up his file. “Page three.”

  “There’s one more thing I need to do before we move on, Mr. Schott,” I said very quietly, but even I could hear the rage vibrating through my voice. “I would like to introduce you to Pavel Medvedev and his sons—or, I should say, his remaining sons. The man who was dragged out of that particular hotel room thanks to your friend Ollie was Pavel’s youngest son Konstantin, who was murdered that same night.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Schott held up both hands, palms out while his eyes went wide. “Let’s not get crazy, all right? I was just following your brother’s orders, okay? And I sure as hell had nothing to do with whatever went on in that hotel room. I wasn’t even there.”

  “Of course, no one here believes you actively took Konstantin’s life.” I tried to keep my tone fair, but fairness had nothing to do with the vengeful, dark glee that shot through me when Schott looked to the Medvedev clan in growing alarm. “But there’s no doubt you got that murder ball rolling when you deliberately placed Ollie in Konstantin’s path. So I wanted you to meet the family who was sent into mourning because of your actions. Oh, and by the way, the Medvedevs are also the family who has been the Vitaliev muscle since the Vitaliev Bratva was created. Please let me know if I have to explain what that means.”

  I heard him swallow.

  He knew what that meant.

  Good.

  “There might only be six Medvedevs here in this room today, but I assure you their numbers are legion. It’s important to me that you know this,” I added, letting my voice grow soft. I wanted to hear his breathing shallow out in panic as I delivered the killing blow. “When you leave here today, I want you to know who it is who’s hunting you. I want you to know why they’re hunting you. I want you to know that they will never tire because they are many, and you are one. And I want you to know, most importantly of all, that what they are going to do to you once they finally catch you isn’t unfair, or unjustified, or whatever else you want to call it. What the Medvedev clan will deliver to you, whenever that time comes, will be what you deserve.”

  Schott’s eyes bulged and he opened his mouth to speak, or perhaps scream. I never found out which, because he froze solid when Pavel pushed to his feet. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the men of PSI stiffen, their muscles braced to step in, but Pavel merely turned to bow his head in a show of Old World courtesy to Cap Fogelmann.

  “When Polo was shot and your men were chosen above mine to look after little Dasha, you weren’t people I knew. So I looked into this company of yours, this PSI,” Pavel said somberly. “I respect you, James Fogelmann. I respect your men. I respect what you’ve fought to build with your own two hands. Because of this, you have my vow, on my youngest son’s grave and on the precious lives of my sons who are here with me today, that there will be no bloodshed here. This ublyudok who introduced death to my Konstantin is untouchable where he now stands, and for twenty-four hours after he leaves your care. Whatever unfortunate circumstances that might one day befall him, it will never tarnish you or your men.”

  Cap Fogelmann stood and offered a small bow as well. “I appreciate that, Mr. Medvedev. Thank you.”

  Vas stirred. “Father—”

  “I’ve given my word, Vasili. You and your brothers will honor it as well.” He looked at the faces of his sons, and then rumbled, “Pomnite yego litso, mal’chiki. Pomnite, eto khorosho.”

  As one, the five remaining sons of Pavel Medvedev turned to look hard at Martin Schott.

  I smiled.

  So did Polo.

  “What the fuck, man.” It didn’t surprise me that the former detective seemed to be on the verge of making an embarrassing mess in his shorts. If I had been stupid enough to somehow land in his shoes, I would have felt the same. “Did you hear that, Fogelmann? This bastard just gave them orders in Russian to kill me. You heard it, right? You’re on the side of the good guys, you’ve gotta protect me.”

  “Number one, Cap Fogelmann doesn’t have to do anything. He’s the founder of a private security company, not official law enforcement,” Polo announced with a big grin that told me he was enjoying himself immensely. “Number two, Pavel would never give his sons an order to kill you after making an honorable vow to Cap that he won’t engage in shenanigans here at PSI. Pavel simply said, ‘remember that face, boys. Remember it well.’ Swear to God, that’s all he said.”

  But of course, everyone in the room knew that was more than enough.

  “Since Mr. Schott has been kind enough to share all the pertinent intel he has on this matter, it’s ti
me to show him the door.” Cap looked to the men who had brought Schott into the room in the first place. “Rudy, Steele, if you’d do the honors, go ahead and put him out through the underground garage. Make sure no eyes see him leave.”

  With military precision, Martin Schott’s guards grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him out.

  “I’m sure it hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice that while we were connecting the dots from Schott, to Ollie, to Fabian Moretti’s floating poker game, to Konstantin’s murder, another name kept coming up,” I said the moment they were out of sight. This part was going to be the hardest, so I wanted to get through it before I broke completely. “My brother, Knives Vitaliev.”

  “That’s what’s confusing me, Dash.” To my surprise it was Emily who spoke, and her bewildered frown made an unwanted knot of emotion snag in my throat. She looked like I felt. “I was under the impression that you and your brother are close. Why would Knives put you in a position where you’d be hurt?”

  “Not just hurt,” Polo corrected, his voice flat. “Knives was the man behind the sniper. That’s why he was parading his sister all around that rooftop terrace. He was getting her in position to have her killed.”

  Emily’s hand flew to her mouth and she looked to me with gentle eyes filled with compassion. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  God, Matteo had found himself a good woman. “Thanks, Emily. I’m sorry, too, believe me.”

  “So, your brother secretly hates you enough to bump you off, then use that death to start a war?” Angelina, who didn’t seem to know how to keep quiet, shook her dark head. “Shit. That’s a Vitaliev for you right there.”

  “Shut your mouth,” Polo snarled.

  “But she’s right, at least partially.” I kept my chin level and my eyes dry through sheer force of will as I turned all the force of my gaze back to Angelina. “A Vitaliev is actually far, far worse than you can possibly imagine when it comes to achieving a goal, Mrs. Moretti. You see, my brother doesn’t hate me. Not at all. He loves me very much. In fact, I’m probably the most important person in his world. Yet he’s still willing to sacrifice me in order to wipe out the entire Scorpeone family. You, your children, your brother’s children, your mother, your husband, and anyone else who might be even remotely attached to you—Knives wants all of you to die. He wants this because of a decades-old grudge he’s held ever since he was kidnapped by your father. Being a Vitaliev, he’s going to see that grudge through, and he’s willing to make the sacrifice of killing me in order to do it.”

  “That’s why we’re meeting here today, though I’m sure you’ve already figured that out,” Polo added, looking at his biological family for the first time with almost sympathetic eyes. “This isn’t something that’s going to go away. Knives isn’t interested in negotiation or hammering out a treaty. He even went so far as to throw away any hope of keeping the powerful Medvedev clan on his side when he gave the order for Konstantin to be killed. He’s literally sacrificing everything he has just so he can start a war with the Scorpeones. There’s only one thing to do when you’re confronted with a man like that.”

  “What?” Emily asked, her voice shaking. “Run to the other side of the world and pray he doesn’t find us?”

  “No. Give him what he wants. Give him war.”

  “Now that everyone understands what’s at stake,” I said after allowing them a few moments to absorb the horror of their new reality, “we need to know if we can count on you when the time comes.”

  It came as no surprise when everyone around the conference table nodded.

  Chapter Twenty

  As far as I was concerned, it was a minor miracle that everyone walked out of PSI alive. It was such a spectacular achievement I lost my mind on a wave of goodwill and rashly agreed to meet Emily for lunch at Castlemont Country Club after the danger had passed.

  Then I tried to look on the bright side. If any of us survived, I would definitely be in the mood to celebrate.

  “Pavel took the news of who killed Konstantin much better than I expected.” Ensconced in the back of an armor-plated limo the Rodins had dragged out of storage—and was currently being driven by Alexei with his father riding shotgun—I laced my fingers through Polo’s. “More than anything, I think Pavel was hurt that Grigor didn’t find a way to tell him about Knives ordering Konstantin’s death.”

  “Pavel and Grigor go back a long way, so hopefully that’s something they’ll be able to hash out between themselves once all this shit gets settled.” Polo pulled me closer, draping an arm over my shoulders. “That’s why I told him Grigor’s story. I want every last secret out in the open. No more hiding anything.”

  “How’s this for being out in the open—I’ve got a girl-crush going on for your sister-in-law Emily, but I’m really not feeling the love for Angelina.”

  “Yeah, she’s a piece of work, isn’t she? I get the feeling that if she’d been the one who’d been given to the Vitalievs as a hostage instead of me, they would’ve given her back.”

  “She did seem pleased you were still alive though, and Matteo Scorpeone seemed genuinely overjoyed to see you.” I glanced up at him when the arm around me gave me a squeeze. “Sorry, baby.”

  “For what?”

  “I know this topic isn’t your favorite. I was just wondering if you’d noticed Matteo’s reaction to you being alive.”

  “I did, actually.” His tone was so distracted I tilted my head back against his shoulder to get a better view of his expression. I relaxed when I saw that, far from being upset with talk of his family, he seemed merely thoughtful as he stared off into the distance. “I still hate the Scorpeones, and I doubt I’ll ever get over how they got to live free and happy while I was made to pay for their sins. But I can’t deny that at least Matteo seems to give a shit about whether I’m alive or dead. That’s something.”

  That was a pretty sad metric when it came to gauging how much a person actually cared, but now wasn’t the time to point that out. The fact that Polo found anything redeeming in Matteo was a step in the right direction, and I was proud of him for finding whatever silver lining he could. After all he’d been through, his ability to see any positivity in life was a gift from heaven.

  “So, does this mean you’re going to be okay with Emily and me being friends?”

  “Were you serious about that whole lunch thing?”

  “Absolutely. She’s very interested in Chicago’s Future, which is always a wonderful thing. And I haven’t forgotten she’s on the board of that hoity-toity country club. With her contacts at Castlemont, she could really open a lot of doors to potential donors, and that means even more children could be fed and clothed in the—”

  “Shut up.” Clearly not interested in hearing about my plans to reach out to potential contributors, he let go of my hand to cup my jaw, and brought my mouth to his.

  Without a doubt, Polo’s kiss was my favorite way of being silenced.

  After a thorough exploration of my mouth, he broke off the kiss to smile down into my eyes. “You don’t know how incredible you are, do you?”

  My heart gave a happy bounce. “Was my kiss that good?”

  A lazy chuckle whispered from him. “Your kisses can always be labeled as incredible, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “What are you talking about? Please share, I love to hear that I’ve been incredible.”

  “We just came from a three-hour skull session on how we’re going to take down your brother, which I know has got to be eating you up inside. Yet here you are, already looking to the future and figuring out ways to make other peoples’ lives better. Instead of dwelling on the darkness, you keep pushing toward the light. I know you must be hurting, but all I can see when I look into your eyes is hope.” Very gently he lowered his brow to mine. “You’re more than incredible, beautiful. You’re a miracle. My miracle.”

  My eyes stung with the threat of tears, I was so moved by his words. “I’m definitely yours. I’m glad you see m
e that way.”

  “No other way to see you.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him just how wrong he was when my phone rang. I froze, and not just because Rudy had gotten it to work again. That ringtone—the Imperial March from the Star Wars franchise—announced that Knives had decided to call.

  Polo knew me so well. In less than a second he interpreted my sudden stiffness and the familiar tune and condensed it into one word. “Knives.”

  “The one and only.” Jittery nerves crackled along my skin, and I sat ramrod straight in my seat as I opened my purse. “I’ve been ignoring him since I texted him about Shona. Time to put an end to that.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “We both know I do.” Besides, this scenario worked out much better than my plan of reaching out to Knives. After ignoring him all week, I’d worried that Knives might be suspicious of me suddenly calling him out of the blue. But fate had decided to open a door for me.

  All I had to do was find the courage to walk through it.

  Trying to ignore the tension squeezing the air out of my lungs, I reached for my phone, only to recoil when Polo grabbed my purse.

  “Fuck,” he gritted out, his fingers fisting so viciously on the bag it wouldn’t have surprised me if the supple leather shredded. “Fucking hate this. Motherfucker putting my woman through this shit. Fucking won’t forgive this.”

  “Polo. Breathe, baby.” Gently I placed my hand over his, trying to ease his obvious fury.

  “She must answer.” From the passenger seat, Yuri turned to frown at Polo. “We do this, or we don’t. Decide.”

  “I’ve decided I fucking hate this shit.” But he let my purse go only to pull me into his lap, his arms circling me tight as I fished out my phone.

  With a deep breath, I forced my racing mind to still, and hit the screen.

  “I hope you’re happy,” I began without preamble. “Whatever you said to Shona made her quit Chicago’s Future. I’m going to have to close it down until further notice until I can replace her.” There. That lie should explain why I’d suddenly decided to take his call after a week of avoiding him, not to mention make him believe my best friend was now out of my life.