Kingpin's Foxglove (The Tarkhanov Empire Book 1) Page 12
I didn’t go to touch it. Only an idiot would touch an animal they weren’t familiar with.
The horse tossed their head over the fence, reaching out with their nose, most likely looking for something to eat.
“I don’t have anything to give you,” I said, holding up my hands. “See? Nothing.”
The horse didn’t step back, pressing their head into my stomach.
They didn’t seem vicious...
Slowly, I scratched the horse’s forehead, running my fingers over the fringe and mane.
“You’re not so bad,” I said.
The horse pricked their ears like they agreed with me.
“I wonder what your name is,” I mused.
“Kuksha of Odessa.”
Both the horse and I startled.
Konstantin laughed. “But we just call her Odessa.”
He had come up from the paddock, standing a few feet away from the horse and me. Konstantin wore a green polo tucked into his cream jodhpurs with a pair of shining brown boots. He held a crop in loosely in one hand.
“Trying to escape, Elena?” he inquired.
“No. I went for a walk.”
His eyebrows rose. “A long walk. Did you enjoy it?”
“I did until you showed up,” I retorted.
Konstantin’s smile grew. “How about you come and meet the other horses?”
I couldn’t resist and pulled myself over the fence. Konstantin offered his hand, but I pushed it away, jumping down onto the grass. The morning dew hitting my ankles made me realize I was still in my pajamas.
Compared to Konstantin in his preppy horse-riding outfit, I looked terrible.
“All good?” Konstantin asked as I rose to my feet.
“Fine.”
His eyes roamed over my bare legs and arms. The attention caused goosebumps to rise all over my skin. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Not when I keep moving.”
Odessa followed us as we headed down the paddock. She kept pushing her nose into my back and neck.
“She wants attention,” Konstantin told me the third time she did it. “Don’t you, Odessa?” He patted her neck.
“I didn’t know you had horses,” I said, giving Odessa a scratch on the nose.
“You never asked.”
I cut him a look. “Do you race them? Or are they for making glue?”
Konstantin smiled, amusement making his eyes sparkle. “Racing. Though Odessa’s racing days are over, aren’t they, girl?”
Odessa tossed her head like she was agreeing.
We reached the end of the paddock, and Konstantin held the gate open for me. When Odessa tried to follow me, he gently pushed her back, promising hay and pellets if she did as she was told.
A loud banging noise brought my attention away from Odessa and to the stables. Inside, someone swore loudly in Russian, before there was another bang.
“Hilarion,” Konstantin growled, striding in the direction of the noise.
I followed, jogging to keep up.
The stables were incredibly flash, with mason rock patterns building the walls and dark wooden panels separating the horses. In the middle of the stable, a huge apricot-colored horse had broken free of his lead and was prancing around the place, head up and ears pinned back.
“Hilarion,” Konstantin called.
Instantly, the horse stopped and turned his attention to his owner. Quick as a whip, he flung himself at Konstantin.
Konstantin shoved me to the side.
Hilarion came to a halt in front of him, hooves digging into the floor.
Konstantin growled something in Russian, the timbre of his tone low and threatening. Not the voice of someone you wanted to cross.
The horse agreed and stopped where he stood.
Konstantin grabbed his halter, holding him in place and turned to me. “Did he scare you?”
“Most rational people are scared of half ton horses coming towards them, Konstantin,” I snapped.
Hilarion turned his head towards me, nostrils flaring. His ears pinned back as he took me in.
“Behave,” Konstantin warned. “Hilarion is our stallion, and only current racehorse. He has the temperament of a teenage boy.”
I didn’t take my eyes off the horse. “I prefer Odessa,” I said simply.
Hilarion threw his head back but Konstantin kept a hold on him.
“Many do,” he mused, giving Hilarion an affectionate pat on the nose. I wouldn’t have put my fingers so close to the stallion’s teeth. “Come and meet Basil.”
Basil turned out to be a relaxed, hefty gelding that practically fell asleep under my scratches and pats. Even when Hilarion neighed, Basil did not bother opening up his eyes.
“Our better-behaved horse,” Konstantin said. “I’ve never seen Basil stressed or panicked.”
“He looks high,” I laughed as Basil rolled his eyes back.
Konstantin turned his head to me at the sound. A small smile grew up his face. “Do you have much experience with horses?”
“Other than carnival pony rides, no.”
“I can teach you to ride if you’d like.”
The word yes tried to crawl its way out of my throat, but I held it down. “No, thank you. I won’t be here for much longer.”
“Is that so?” Konstantin inquired. He gestured to my hand, spying the new ink. I resisted the urge to tuck my hand into my chest. “Magnificent,” he read. “What does that pertain to?”
“None of your business.”
His eyes gleamed. “So, it has something to do with me.”
“Has anybody ever told you you’re the most arrogant man alive?” I demanded.
“A few,” Konstantin noted. “None interesting enough to remember.”
I rolled my eyes to keep myself from laughing. “Touché.”
Annoyed at being ignored, Hilarion let out a thunderous neigh. Seconds later, Odessa responded from outside, sounding just as pissed.
“You have a lot of pets,” I remarked. “Horses…dogs. Roman.”
“I enjoy animals,” Konstantin said. “They’re easier to train than humans.”
“Of course you like them based on their trainability,” I muttered. “What do you do with your rebellious pets?”
His blonde eyebrows rose. “I haven’t come across a rebellious pet yet,” he said. “Only humans behave in such a way.”
I continued to scratch Basil’s nose, the act comforting for the both of us.
“If we don’t leave in a few minutes, we’ll miss breakfast,” Konstantin said after moments of silence.
“I’m not hungry.” As soon as the words left my mouth, my stomach let out a gurgle.
Konstantin laughed softly. “No?”
“Fine.” I dropped my hands from Basil, who had fallen asleep.
Once Konstantin had let Hilarion out into the field, he led me to his car, insisting I didn’t walk all the way back to the manor without shoes on.
“You never did say why you were out here,” Konstantin said as I slipped into the back seat. One of his men took the driver’s seat, cigar hanging out the window.
“I wanted to go on a walk.”
Konstantin nodded. “Of course.”
He didn’t broach the subject again but how easily he let it drop didn’t fool me into thinking he was satisfied with my answer.
11
Konstantin Tarkhanov
Neutral territory is a difficult thing to find.
After hours of going back and forth, all five Bosses of New York decided Governors Island was the best place to meet. Though the island was technically in Ó Fiaich territory, it was accessible via water—all the bosses would be able to escape if they needed to.
No enclosed space could be agreed upon, leaving the meeting to take place outdoors.
My fellow mob bosses and I lined up, overlooking the East River. Our men loitered behind us, not getting too close but watching all possible threats like hawks. Roman and Artyom had both accompanied me.
Mitsuzo Ishida was the Oyabun of the New Jersey Yakuza. Since immigrating to the States in the mid-20th century, Ishida had reigned over New Jersey fiercely but fairly. Despite a few power plays throughout the decades, his grip on power had never wavered. Ishida had seen bosses come and go, seen territories rise and fall. He would see many more.
“This meetin’ is long overdue,” said Thomas Sr Ó Fiaich. Boss of the Brooklyn Irish Mob, Thomas Sr had recently taken his uncle’s mantel. But quickly he had proved himself to be just as fierce and bloodthirsty as his predecessor, ensuring the Ó Fiaich’s would own Brooklyn for a few more decades.
It was Chen Qiang who said, “I agree. Long overdue.”
Qiang was the Shan Chu of the Chen Triad, his territory stretching over Queens and up as far as Hempstead. Qiang had built his society from the ground up, along with his wife, Chen Suyin. Together the two had brought stability and trading to New York.
“However, it is very rare we gain a new member,” mused Mitsuzo. He nodded his head to me in respect. “Welcome, Konstantin.”
I smiled slightly. “It is my pleasure.”
It was Vitale Lombardi who snorted. We turned to look at the Don of the Lombardi La Cosa Nostra, his family ruling over Manhattan and the Bronx. He loitered away from the group, expression harsh and cruel.
Vitale had made his disdain of my position quite clear. Whereas all the other bosses had rung me to offer congratulations, Vitale had stayed pointedly silent.
Old and traditional, Vitale did not like to sway from the norm. His vision of the mafia was still rooted in the Golden Age, before the RICO laws, unable to shift into the modern era.
It would be his downfall.
“The Bratva cannot hold any territory in New York,” Vitale said. “They are uneducated brutes, nothing more.”
My smile was low and cold. “Interesting. I regard La Cosa Nostra the same way.”
Vitale cut his dark eyes to me. “You will pay for killing Thaddeo,” he snapped. “You and all your filthy—”
“Fight in your own time, Vitale,” Qiang said tiredly. “We are here to discuss the heartless killings.”
I rose my eyebrows at Vitale. I would not forget his threats, but I had no interest in quarreling with such a useless figure.
I doubted Vitale would have his territory for much longer. The time for traditionalism was slowly dying.
“I know,” Vitale said, darkly. “One of those deaths belonged to my famiglia.”
Letizia Zetticci. Murdered through poison.
“I assume you have inducted an investigation into the death,” Mitsuzo said.
Vitale scowled at the Oyabun. “Of course. Letizia was not a combative woman—her death was a surprise.”
Meaning there had been no reason for her husband to kill her.
“I imagine the same could be said about the other victims,” I noted. “Including eleven-year old Annabella.”
Expressions darkened and lips thinned. The death of a child was not something our world accepted. We may be cruel and heartless, bloodthirsty and warmongering, but children were off limits. Anyone who would go after one was not a popular man.
“Eleazar’s reaction is...interesting to say the least,” Mitsuzo noted.
“I agree,” Thomas Sr said. He lit a cigar, the scent blowing away into the wind. “He knows somethin’ we don’t.”
“Eleazar does have a history of being overprotective,” Vitale said. “Remember how he acted when Don Piero was shot?”
“He wasn’t seen in public for a few months afterwards,” Qiang confirmed. “Yes, Eleazar can be overly cautious. But he is not an idiot.”
I cast my eyes over the river, watching the ferries and ships float past. “He either saw something or recognizes something about the crime.”
“Indeed.” Thomas Sr took another long drag of his cigar. This time a hint of cloves blew my way. “I don’t remember anythin’ like this before. Not in Ireland or the States. What about you lot?”
None of us had ever experienced something like this back in our motherlands, or even heard of such a thing.
These murders were unprecedented.
In a world built on tradition and duty, finding a new and unique thing was a rarity, types of violence included.
“Despite the lack of information, we can all agree that the women associated with our organizations are being targeted. By random apparently. All are found without teeth,” Qiang said.
Mitsuzo nodded. “I haven’t seen anything like this before, but I have been around long enough to know people who remove teeth are never the sanest individuals.”
We all agreed with that statement.
In the distance, a horn sounded, echoing over the river.
“Somebody is doing this,” Vitale emphasized. “Be it mafia or government or some other entity, but we are under attack. Killing our women is a direct attack on our honor.”
And proving their lack of ability to protect them. Though men had less expectations in their job as husbands than their female counterparts as wives, they were expected to protect and provide. If they failed to do one of those, they never looked very good to outsiders.
Including enemy syndicates. After all, if the women could be attacked, how hard would it be to take out the men?
When the meeting came an end, a long conversation where each word was like moving a chess piece over the board, the sun had begun to set. For hours, we tried to prove we were the ones to fear, the most bloodthirsty out of us all.
Don’t test me, neighbor, our eyes warned our fellow bosses. I am the snake in the grass, the king of the hill. I may not be the current threat, but I am a threat all the same.
I respected Mitsuzo, Thomas Sr and Qiang. However, I found Vitale arrogant and stupid. His insistence on the Golden Age values reminded me of my family back in Russia, and how those ideas had worked for them.
It won’t be long, I thought as I listened to him try and assert dominance, until someone younger and smarter comes along to take his crown.
Two years ago, it had been me with that ambition in mind. But the Lombardi territory didn’t have what I wanted.
It didn’t have a green-eyed woman with a silver tongue and more secrets than she knew.
As I went to leave, Mitsuzo pulled me aside. We walked together to our respective boats, both of our men near and giving us privacy.
“The Rocchettis may have backed up your claim to Staten Island,” he said, “but you will have many more adversaries until that territory is truly yours.”
I smiled. “They can try.”
His dark eyes gleamed, recognizing the carnal protectiveness and ambition in my expression. “Indeed, they will.” He tilted his head. “Say...you are unmarried. If you want to cement your power, marry a girl from a powerful family. I have two beautiful daughters—you are welcome to either.”
“That is a very kind offer, sir,” I didn’t want to offend him, but I also didn’t want him to think he was in a position to pimp me out. “But I must decline.”
“Of course.” Mitsuzo smiled lightly. “I look forward to being neighbors, Konstantin.”
“As do I.”
We shook hands, both of us tightening our grip ever so slightly in dominance, before going our separate ways.
As the boat traveled back towards Staten Island, I looked out across the horizon. Tall sparkling buildings caught in the fading light, giants that loomed over us all.
“All the other bosses think someone is behind the killings. A third party, if you will,” I said.
“You believe them?” Artyom asked. Not disbelieving, just unsure.
I nodded slowly. “I do.” I cast my eyes towards home, towards my territory, towards her. “For now.”
12
Elena Falcone
Danika swung the door open before I knocked, her eyes bright and her smile wide. “Oh, Elen
a!” She caught my wrist and dragged me into the room. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”
“I need a dress,” I said. Originally, when Danika had invited me to get ready with Roksana, joined by herself and Tatiana, I had declined. But sitting in front of the mirror, alone, and in unfamiliar territory, had made me reconsider Danika’s offer.
Both Roksana and Tatiana were already in the room. Roksana was doing her hair by the vanity, whereas Tatiana lay on the bed, propped up my pillows, but looking flushed and healthier.
“Elena.” Tatiana was the first to notice me. “Come and try on some of the dresses I bought you.”
“You would look so pretty in the green one,” Danika told me. She crawled over the bed and sat beside Tatiana, cross-legged. “Come on, give us a show.”
“Leave her be,” Roksana called.
“It’s okay,” I said, nearing the dresses hung over the bathroom door. Most were protected by garment bags, so I unzipped them all and picked out the ones I liked best.
Tatiana chuckled suddenly, caressing her stomach. “Nikola is kicking. She always gets so excited when Elena’s here.”
“Nikola knows Elena is helping her mama,” laughed Danika. She held a hand to Tatiana’s stomach, both of them quiet as they waited for the next kick. Seconds later, they both laughed again. “I can’t wait to have another baby in the house.”
“Me too,” Roksana piped up. “And a little girl! It’ll be nice not being so outnumbered.”
Tatiana smiled widely. “I know, I know. Dmitri thinks she’s going to be a daddy’s girl, but I’m not so convinced.”
Danika ended up being right about the green dress. The emerald color of the fabric complimented my eyes and earthy-brown hair. It gave my willowy form definition, adding some curves and lines to my waist and breasts.
“You look gorgeous,” Danika admired from the bed when I stepped out of the bathroom.
I adjusted the strap over my shoulder and surveyed myself in the long mirror. “Mmm.”
“Give us a smile,” laughed Dani.
I sent her my best toothy grimace and her laughter danced around the room.
“Your smile is terrible, but you have gorgeous teeth,” Tatiana observed.