I rub my chin. No small talk is fine by me. “Well, then let me cut to the chase. I would like us to be allies, Dominik.”
“I’m under no illusions as to who and what I am, Mr. Bugrov,” he says in that flat, emotionless drawl of his. “My Bratva is far from matching yours in scope and strength. Why would you want to be my ally?”
“Simple. Because you and I share a common enemy. And I’ve always believed that the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
He nods grimly. “My father believed the same thing.”
“This is the same father that Boris Sobakin murdered in cold blood?”
His lips curl into a grimace and his eyes turn cold. “So this is about Boris Sobakin?” Steepling his fingers, he leans forward. “Then I’m interested in hearing what you have to say.”
I can tell from the zeal in his eyes that I’ve hooked the fish. Now, it’s just down to reeling him in. Usually, this would have been the easy part, but I can tell that I’m dealing with a different kind of specimen here.
Dominik Evanoff is all business. He might nurse personal grudges and harbor secret vendettas, but I doubt he’d jeopardize his own safety and the safety of his Bratva in order to act on them. I have to make this worth his while.
“I’m saying we join forces and take down the bastard once and for all. He hurt your family deeply. Now, he’s trying to do the same to mine. I say we stop him. I say we end him. We bury him like he buried your father. Like he buried mine.”
Dominik’s eyebrow ticks up a notch. “He killed your father, too?”
“I couldn’t prove it until recently. He staged quite the spectacle just so that the accident that took out my parents couldn’t be traced back to him. But you can’t hide these things forever. Someone always talks.”
“Someone always talks,” Dominik agrees. He takes a sip of his drink. Bourbon, from the smell of it. “Killing Boris Sobakin has been on my to-do list since I was a very young man.”
“Now, you have the chance to cross it off.”
He cocks his head to the side. “It is tempting. Very tempting. But I don’t need to remind you, Mr. Bugrov—”
“Uri. Please.”
He nods. “Uri. I don’t need to remind you that I am the pahkan of a comparatively small Bratva. I don’t have the kind of influence, resources, or manpower that you have.”
“No. But you can add to my strength. One thing’s for sure: Boris won’t be expecting you.”
Dominik’s lips curl into a smile. I can tell why he doesn’t do it very often: it’s nauseating and unpleasant. “No, he will not.”
“Finally, you and I would both have revenge for what he did to our families.”
Dominik nods. “And I want to jump on board…”
“But?”
The gleam in his eyes recedes back into disengaged deadpan. “But what’s in it for me?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Other than revenge?”
“Yes,” he says unapologetically. “No matter which way you slice it, there will be losses. If you’ve come to me, it means that Boris has joined forces with someone else. Am I right?”
“Artur Agapov.”
“Agapov?” Dominik scoffs. “He’s a rabid dog without a master to call him to heel.” He taps the edge of his glass. “But it proves my point. I need to come out of this battle with more than what I started with.”
“What do you want?”
“What are you offering?”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “You know what I like about you, Dominik? You’re a straight shooter. Don’t ruin that now by acting coy. You want something for the risk. I respect that. Just lay it on me so that I can either accept or walk away.”
Dominik’s jaw flexes. His eyes darken just a little and he licks his lips. “You have three clubs in the city. I want ownership of one of them transferred to me. And I want an additional property. An empty lot, a suburban house, a decrepit shack—I don’t care, as long as I hold the deed.”
“That’s all?”
“And five million dollars. Cash.” He eyes me carefully, waiting for me to balk. “I can live without avenging my father if doing so means risking my Bratva and my reputation in the process.”
“Allying with me will only help your reputation,” I growl.
“Unless you lose.”
“I won’t lose.”
“If you knew that, Mr. Bugrov, you would never have sat down with me in the first place.”