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was so quiet I could hear his breathing. Show no fear. My father’s voice in my head. Show no weakness. I could hear his hand clenching and unclenching around the handle of the knife and feel the point twisting and scraping against the fabric of my suit. He was as big as me and he probably had fancy military training I didn’t, plus he had his buddy beside him.
    But he didn’t have what I had. He didn’t have the will my dad bred in me, the will to do whatever it takes to maintain control. I’d die to defend my turf and that meant he didn’t scare me. But I scared the shit out of him.
    His eyes flickered and I knew I had him. “Get the fuck out of here,” I told him, my voice barely more than a whisper.
    The guy stepped past me. “This isn’t over,” he muttered. “Mikhail wants this territory. We’ll be back.”
    From behind me, there was the metal click-clack of a shotgun being pumped. “No you won’t,” said a calm, deep voice. Everyone looked up as the man stepped into the room.
    Rico. My sotto capo, my second-in-command and my best friend since high school. He was in his usual long leather coat, his favorite shotgun cradled in his arms and pointing right at the Russians. He’d been outside in the car, with orders to follow the Russians inside once he’d made sure there were only two of them. Just in case I needed backup.
    The Russians looked at each other again and scowled, but they knew when they were beaten. They slunk past me, the knife disappearing into a pocket. The tension drained out of the room. Mario gave a loud sigh.
    I turned and grinned at Rico. “Thanks.”
    Rico lowered the shotgun. “You would have been fine without me,” he said graciously.
    Maybe. Maybe not. It worried me how cocky and aggressive the Russians were getting. The thought of Rico and that shotgun might just keep them from coming back for a while. And it had felt good to have him watching my back. It always did.
    I embraced Mario and told him not to worry and to call me if the Russians were dumb enough to shake him down again. Then I strolled out to the car with Rico.
    Rico knows as much about the business as I do and he handles a ton of the day-to-day shit I don’t have time for. My guys respect him like no one else. If we weren’t such good friends, I’d be watching my back, expecting a coup.
    “You want me to drop you at Cafe Auben?” Rico asked. He knows my routine.
    I nodded.
    “I’ll join you.”
    I hesitated. Normally I loved spending time with my buddy, but I was hoping— praying— that Irina would show up.
    I didn’t even need to say anything—that’s how well Rico knows me. He glanced across at me, saw my expression and his jaw dropped. “Wait. Are you meeting someone? Do you have a date?!”
    I shrugged, embarrassed. But I couldn’t stop a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
    He started driving, staring out through the windshield in silence.
    “What?” I asked at last.
    “I’m just trying to figure out when you last went on a date. I’m back three....no, four years.”
    I elbowed him in the guts. But he was probably right. I didn’t go on dates: I met a woman, fucked her once or twice and moved on. I didn’t have time for fucking romance.
    But Irina? I had time for her.
    I still couldn’t get my head around her being Russian. She had zero in common with the Russian thugs I battled every day—it was difficult to accept they were from the same country. Although I‘d be lying if I said there wasn’t a little part of me that loved the thought of seducing one of their countrywomen. Da, comrade, see how you like that.
    “So who is she?” asked Rico. “Hot?” He was grinning, now, practically bouncing in his seat in excitement. Which was kind of funny because Rico’s as big as I am, solid muscle, and the car was creaking on its springs.
    “Of course she’s hot,” I told him. “What the fuck do you think?” Again, I couldn’t help grinning. Which was crazy: I didn’t want