Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)(72)
When you wanted to do business with the Bratva, you went to the Pakhan, no one else.
“Good, now—”
Alfie paused, his head tilted to the side, and then his eyes cut to Kaz. “Your time is up. Looks like you’re not the only one paying me a visit today.”
Though Kaz didn’t question him, he did wonder why. More than once, he had sat in the room while Alfie conducted business, and had offered insight when prompted, but never had he been asked to leave.
It, at the very least, made him curious.
Because of the position of the office, Kaz could see most of the restaurant—with the exception of the kitchens. Standing where he’d been no more than ten minutes ago was the last person Kaz had expected.
Carmine Gallucci.
He could see it, somewhat, the similarities between him and his sister—the blond hair—but the rest of him was a carbon copy of his father. And he held himself like it too, his shoulders back, his head held high as though everyone around him was beneath his notice.
Kaz couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the man in person, and it was even longer since he had given him any thought. But as Carmine’s gaze lifted to his, awareness making them narrow as his guard shot up, he had Kaz’s full attention.
“Right, gentlemen,” Alfie spoke up, stepping between them once Carmine got close. “This is a respectable place, yeah? And as much as I would enjoy watching the two of you try and beat the shit out of each other, though my money’s on Kazimir here—Russians, they’re f*cking savages, you know?—that won’t happen in here.” He gestured to the door with a tilt of his head. “Outside and down the street, far away from my place, and you can do as you please. You still want to have words, Gallucci, you know where to find me. Now, get the f*ck out.”
Carmine looked like he wanted to argue, even more pissed off by the way Alfie casually disregarded him, but as quickly as his flare of temper showed in his face, he swept his hands over the front of his suit jacket, even going as far as straightening his tie. He tried to make himself seem taller, but next to Alfie and Kaz, he still looked like a boy playing dress up.
“Nah, I’m good. You see,”—and this was aimed at Kaz as his gaze shifted past Alfie— “we Italians don’t need to act like dogs in the street. We know how to behave.”
Kaz smiled at his answer. “You’re right about one thing, Gallucci. I am a f*cking dog, and when the day comes that you’re ready to find out what that means, look me up.” Clapping Alfie on the shoulder, Kaz headed for the door.
But as he passed—the two Italian guards moving to the side to let him pass without incident—Carmine started forward and bumped Kaz’s shoulder hard enough to make his temper flare. Before he could quell the impulse, Kaz had his hand around the man’s throat, shoved him backward, and made his head crack against the wall.
The impact was enough to silence the room, and while Carmine’s guards rushed to grab their weapons, Alfie made it clear, in that silent way of his, to not do it.
“That’s your one, Gallucci,” Kaz said squeezing harder, feeling the muscles in Carmine’s throat constrict as he fought for air. “Test me again and you won’t like the results.” As quickly as he had grabbed him, Kaz released his hold, laughing lightly as Carmine wheezed. “Walk away, before I give your father a real reason to start a war.”
Carmine coughed, his eyes watery and angry. “Fuck you, Markovic. You’re a f*cking nobody. Had it not been for my family doing yours a favor, you wouldn’t be standing there.”
“Is that so?” Kaz asked, intrigued though he didn’t mean to be.
He had already been curious about the meeting that had happened all those years ago between their families, but he had yet to question Vasily about it, not really seeing a need to. Yet, this was at least the third time in as many months that the meeting had been brought up to him, and it was clear that Carmine knew something about it.
Kaz never liked when anyone had information he didn’t have.
“Why don’t you enlighten me?” Maybe then he would have an answer.
But despite how idiotic Carmine looked, he wasn’t about to spill secrets. “Savages, the whole f*cking lot of you. We should have put all of you down, and not just that uncle of yours.”
“Savages?” Kaz asked, his voice going calm. “Savage enough to cut out a heart, Gallucci?” Almost immediately, the Italian reacted to his words, his face going ashen, and in that moment, Kaz had everything he needed. “Was it you that cut out his heart?” he asked as he got in the man’s face. “Did you finally get to be a f*cking man, you little suka? Because let me explain one thing to you. I am a f*cking savage—I live for that shit—and had I not been called off from coming after you, I would have found you and cut off your fingers, one by one. And only after you understood what real pain was, would I have gone for your heart.”
Carmine kept his mouth shut, and was still glaring, but beneath that careful facade, Kaz saw a trace of fear, and that was enough for him.
“Careful what monsters you play with, Gallucci, I’m worse,” Kaz finished, stepping back, and this time, he didn’t wait for the man to give a rebuttal, but exited the restaurant, and climbed into Abram’s truck.
“Take me to my place,” he said when Abram was finally inside and starting the truck up.