Thomas Murray can be mayor of Chicago if he wishes. He can think that brings him power if it helps him sleep at night. But the real power will be with the man who owns that mayor. And that man is me.
Next to me, Lev grunts and hangs up. He turns to me with a stoic look. “That was his butler. Mr. Murray is ‘indisposed’ with a party.”
My mood darkens even more. While I admit that sometimes I miss getting my hands dirty, I don’t relish the idea of dragging a probable mayoral candidate out of his own party to put a bullet in him. But Thomas is out of time, and I’m out of patience.
“He had his chance to be a man about it,” I growl. “Let’s go.”
Lev and two of my men fall into step behind me as I take the stairs to the townhouse’s front door. A man answers, but his smile quickly fades when he realizes who I am.
“Sir, you’re—”
“Here to see Mr. Murray. Right now.”
The butler pales. “Sir, Mr. Murray is indisposed. It’s his daughter’s graduation pa—”
“I don’t give a shit if his daughter is solving world hunger and ending a war!” I snap. I snarl and loom over the trembling butler, letting him feel my wrath and power. “I am seeing him, right now.”
“C—certainly, sir,” the man fumbles. “Of course. Allow me to show you to—”
“His office will do,” I snap.
The man swallows. “Sir, Mr. Murray’s office is private—”
“As is our business,” I growl with a warning tone. “So bring me, now.”
The man quickly caves. “Of course, Mr. Komarov. This way.”
I follow the man, with Lev and the other two following close behind me. Elsewhere in the house, I hear jazz music playing, along with the dull murmur and din of the graduation party. I’m aware that Thomas has a daughter, though I’ve never crossed paths with her. Word is, few have. He’s kept her locked away in this house, even homeschooling her, for most of her life. Given Thomas’s tendencies for backroom deals with men like me, that’s probably the smartest thing he’s ever done.
She’s recently graduated from Columbia Law School. But even that was done remotely, with some strings pulled by the aspiring mayor. I roll my eyes as the butler brings us into Thomas’s office. Imagine raising a child, giving them every advantage and the best schooling, just so they can be locked in a gilded cage.
I think of my own, radically different upbringing, and I grit my teeth. I was afforded nothing. I wasn’t given a single leg up, or golden opportunity. My childhood was a lesson in fighting for a bite of food, or piece of threadbare blanket against the chill of night.
My upbringing was learning to fight and draw blood young, so the predators would stay away from me. That was life in the orphanage and foster systems of Russia. Some would call it Hell. They’d be right, but in a way, I’m glad for it. Being raised by devils in Hell forged me into the man I am today. It hardened me and taught me self-reliance and gave me the drive to claw my way to the top.
“Mr. Murray will be in as soon as—”
“Bring him,” I say flatly, glaring at the man. I ignore the chair he’s obviously gesturing to and walk behind Thomas’s desk. I sit in his chair and put my feet up on his desk. “Bring him now.”
The butler pales and nods rapidly. “Of course, Mr. Komarov.” He turns and scurries out of the room, closing the door behind him.
I sigh and sit back in his chair. My eyes scan the room and his desk. The walls are filled with pictures of Thomas shaking various important people’s hands—former President’s, important businessmen, a few celebrities. But there’s not a single one of his family. Not one picture of his late wife, or of his daughter.
I begin to think that Thomas locking his daughter away in this tower is less about protecting her, and more about regimenting his life.
The door opens, and Thomas walks in with a white face. He glares at my feet on his desk when he sees where I’m sitting, but he quickly hides the look.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve made myself comfortable.”
He stammers. “N-no. No!” He smiles that bullshit politician smile at me. “No, not at all, Viktor. Can I get you anything?”
“How about four million dollars.”
Thomas freezes for a moment. But then he laughs, like I’ve just made a joke. My eyes narrow.
“I’m not sure what’s so amusing about that, Thomas.”
His stupid smile drops quickly. “Ah, well, Viktor, you know I’m a man of my word—”
“I don’t know that, actually,” I snap. “Actually, I’ve only found the opposite with our dealings. And you can refer to me as Mr. Komarov,” I growl with a warning tone.
Six months ago, it wasn’t Thomas Murray favored to sweep the mayoral elections next month. A man named Lewis Hall, a former State’s Attorney-turned-State Representative was a shoe-in. Alas, the unfortunate Representative Hall hung himself after pictures surfaced of him cavorting around naked and ball-gagged with an eighteen-year-old prostitute in a hotel room full of narcotics.
Bad luck for Lewis, but great luck for Thomas, who became the new favorite to win. Except, luck played no part in this. The girl was provided by me. So was the rope. So were the hands that tied it into a noose, as well as the ones that forced him kicking-and-screaming into it.
The deal for getting rid of Mr. Hall was that Thomas would use his heavy influence with the current mayor to get one of my companies a lucrative shipping contract with the city. Lucrative to the tune of four million over the next two years. Not a bad trade for murdering one stupid politician.
Except, the contract never happened. Instead, it went to an existing city contractor. Which means our deal is not complete. I did Thomas a favor—a big one, too. Now, he
