Possess(The Syndicate: Crime and Passion 1)(13)

Maxim had a terrible habit of not knocking, but he would have heard the shower and left, and he was mad at me anyway, so he wouldn’t be down tonight.

That justification was enough to get me moving, and I dressed for bed. He hadn’t seen me, I reassured myself.

But next time, I’d make sure I locked the door.





Seven





Maxim



“It’s been a long time, friend,” Santo said three days later.

“It’s been a long time,” I replied, the urge to bury a sharp object in his neck making me clench my fists.

I’d wanted to kill Santo many, many times before, even before I had first found Senna, but I’d always stayed my hand. Because doing so before would have killed any chance I had of taking over the Syndicate, and later because keeping him in place had been expedient.

I was older now, even more disciplined, but the urge to kill him was still there. And I wasn’t entirely sure I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from giving in to it.

Every time I saw him, every thought of how close he had been to killing her, the awareness of the immeasurable pain he had brought to her, made it that much harder to get through this.

I focused my gaze on him, thought about my ultimate aim.

Senna was safe, and the Syndicate was powerful. I wouldn’t risk either of those things with no discernible upside, not yet anyway.

Santo would get what he had so richly earned, but I would be patient, unless he pushed me too far.

“I’m surprised you came here personally,” Santo said.

“And I’m not surprised that you’ve handled things so poorly that I had to,” I said.

Santo grimaced but didn’t say anything, that kind of restraint unusual for him. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had spent the years honing discipline.

But while I’d also learned to keep my thoughts to myself, not allowing body language or posture to give me away, Santo had not yet developed that skill.

I could see the anger in his face, knew that if he had the opportunity he would surely kill me like I wanted to kill him.

But he didn’t have that ability, couldn’t even attempt it without great risk to himself, and if nothing else, Santo was a coward. A vicious coward, but a coward nonetheless.

So there we sat, stuck in a stalemate that I would not tolerate for any longer than was necessary.

“We had an understanding, Maxim. This territory is mine, so why are you here?” Santos said, turning to the matter at hand.

“You had an understanding with the former leaders of the Syndicate. One that I extended as a sign of respect. That extension came with promises, and you’re not keeping up your end, Santo.”

The battle of a decade ago still loomed large in everyone’s memory.

I had systematically and methodically consolidated power inside of the Syndicate, but Santo, who had always been a favorite, his brutality and lack of remorse making him a useful instrument, had had his backers.

Much blood had been shed, many lives lost in the ensuing war, and the final terms had allowed Santo to retain some degree of power. I had built the Syndicate into an international powerhouse, while Santo’s influence was limited to a single state, but that he had any influence at all was an irritant.

The decision to allow him to retain his small territory had been based on the knowledge that Santo would fuck it up sooner or later, probably sooner.

To my surprise and complete disappointment, he’d kept it together for more than ten years, or more likely had selected talent that was smart enough to keep it together for him. There may have been one or two of his men who stayed with him out of loyalty, but I had no doubt fear played an outsized role in his ability to maintain his position. If I knew Santo—and I did—he had threatened all manner of pain to his men, those they loved, to retain their services. And I knew, as they did, he would keep those promises.

Things were different now, though. Santo had given me the opening I had been seeking for years. I wouldn’t rush this, risk losing this chance.

“You’re having issues, Santo,” I said.

“What concern of it is yours?” he replied.

“Your territory is in shambles. There have been five murders in the last two months.”

“Motherfuckers got what they deserved,” Santo said.

“Perhaps. I don’t care one way or the other, but you’ve been sloppy, bringing attention where there shouldn’t be any. That doesn’t escape my notice,” I said.

“Maxim, I think there’s been some misunderstanding,” he said.

“Enlighten me.”

“I think you think the Syndicate is in charge here. You’re mistaken.”

“Meaning?” I said, knowing where this conversation was headed. Santo’s mask was starting to slip, and I could see my presence here was enraging him.