Since I don’t bother answering his question, he answers it himself. “I’ve heard that the feds are in the market for new friends, too,” he says. “I bet they’d be very, very interested in the famous Matvey Groza.”
“And you are famous, aren’t you? As CEO and pakhan. It’s not like you’ve gone to great lengths to keep your cover. In fact, you’re the topic of conversation at every table within two miles of the courthouse. State attorneys everywhere are dying to find something that will finally stick.”
“I won’t repeat myself, Vlad.”
“You don’t need to. After all, we’re still friends. Family, really. But if we weren’t, I’m afraid I’d have no other choice.”
I can’t believe my ears: this mudak is threatening me. Me. Plain as day, in my own office, in front of my men.
And yet, as much as I hate
