Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Is that so?” Dimitri asked.
“There are… consequences to attempting to murder my people,” Renzo said, waving out a hand at the loss of human life.
“Of course,” Dimitri agreed, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was truly as unfeeling as he was coming off. “One must wonder what your organization is doing harboring a… what did the news call her?” Dimitri asked, glancing toward one of the gorgeous women at his sides.
“Whistler,” she supplied.
“Blower,” another of the women corrected in an accent just as thick as Dimitri’s. “Whistleblower.”
“That whistleblower belongs to my capo here,” Renzo said, gesturing toward me.
To that, Dimitri let out a snort. “That is why my best men have not been able to shoot a single, unarmed woman.”
To his side, one of the women started to speak in rapid Russian.
“English,” Renzo snapped.
“My friend here was just saying that I should have sent her to do the job,” Dimitri said, shrugging. “Ruthless creatures, women,” he added.
“Look, what’s done is done,” Renzo said. “You’ve made attempts. We’ve… thwarted them. We’re not here about the past. We’re here to talk about the future.”
“Da,” Dimitri agreed, nodding. “What do you have in mind?”
“A truce,” Renzo said. “You don’t come for my people, their loved ones, or spouses. In turn, I won’t systematically work to dismantle your fucked up human trafficking ring.”
To that, Dimitri’s brow rose as the woman broke off in rapid Russian once again.
“English,” Renzo snapped.
“Fucking Americans,” the woman said, glaring at Renzo. “Always assuming we are the bad guys.”
“Pretty sure everyone agrees trafficking women is fucked, babe,” Renzo shot back.
“Women are moved here, yes. But not against their wills,” the woman declared as Dimitri sat back, allowing her to speak.
“You want me to believe you’ve got a massage parlor full of willing sex slaves?” Renzo asked, rolling his eyes.
“Sex slaves,” the woman snorted. “Yes, it is so hard to accept that a woman would be willing to jerk a man off for an extra fifty dollars in her pocket. All sex is transactional. We simply take the emotion out of it,” she said.
We.
It was then that I understood why she looked familiar.
Her picture had been on the massage parlor website, along with her name. Anna.
“You work there willingly?” Renzo asked. “Why?”
“Money. What other reason?” Anna asked.
“You wouldn’t need Dimitri to make money doing that,” Renzo reasoned.
“No,” Anna agreed. “But there is safety this way. And a way to get from Russia to New York.”
“So you are trafficking,” Renzo concluded. “But your… passengers are willing?”
“I am not a good man,” Dimitri admitted. “But I have never needed to force a woman to do anything. They come willingly, knowing this is what is on the other end,” he said, waving toward the women.
“So, you murder women, but draw the line at forcing them to do happy endings?” I asked, ignoring the hard look Renzo shot me.
“Business is business,” Dimitri said.
“And business would be easier without me and mine breathing down your neck,” Renzo said.
“What do you propose?” Dimitri asked.
“You get East New York.”
“East New York?” Dimitri asked, eyes narrowing.
“It’s a generous offer. One the crew who owns this restaurant would kill for. No strings. No kick-up. No questions about how you handle your business. But the offer ends the second I get up from this table.”
“It’s an insult,” Anna said to Dimitri.
“Hush,” he demanded, looking over at Renzo. “What about the crews who work for me now in other neighborhoods?”
“You take them with you, or you cut ties,” Renzo said.
“The parlor is in Bed-Stuy,” Anna reminded her boss. Or partner, whatever the fuck she was to Dimitri.
“And it will have to move,” Renzo said. “Bunch of old fucks who can’t get a handy on their own will take the twenty-minute drive. Or you can find new clientele. I don’t give a fuck. That’s your problem to figure out.”
“You let him speak to you like that?” Anna asked, looking at Dimitri.
“Enough with you,” he said, giving Anna a hard look. “How long would I have to move my organization?”
“Six months. Not a day longer. Shouldn’t be too hard. Real estate is cheaper there than where you are now.”
“And until then?”
“We show each other that we can be trusted at our words. If either side fucks up, the truce is off.”
To that, Dimitri nodded as he rose to his feet.
“We have a deal,” he said.
Then, without another word, he was gone, leaving the women to rush after him, heels clicking as they went.
It didn’t exactly escape me that the bottoms of those heels were red. Designer. Expensive.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad deal they had going for themselves. If their stories were true.
“I feel like that was too easy,” Rico said, always on the lookout for shit that might go sideways.
“Six months, a year ago, he’d never had made that deal,” Renzo agreed, standing.