Chapter Six.

Alex's POV -

"What's wrong Papa?" I ask, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. I'm like a heart broken chick when it comes to ice cream. Only vanilla though, I like to keep it simple.

"I have a long night ahead of me Alex, you're coming with me. And can you stop shovelling that sugar into your mouth? It's a heart disease in a tub, get a piece of fruit instead."

I roll my eyes at him, ignoring his advice. Papa is a health freak, nothing with sugar passes his lips. He's naturally built strong and broad but with his healthy eating habits, he's basically a muscle machine. Thankfully, I inherited his genetics. That doesn't stop me from eating ice cream, I love ice cream.

"Who are we meeting?" I ask, reaching over for my black gym bag. I keep everything I need inside it, my two pistols, tape, a pocket knife, metal wire, a stash of cash and a first aid kit.

The first aid kit is for me, everything else isn't.

"I have a meeting with Dimitri Petrov." Papa says quietly, keeping his voice down. There's no-one else around us but he's still aware of his tone. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise and I pause, turning to face him.

"Dimitri Petrov?"

My tone immediately turns cold, icy.

"Yes."

Dimitri Petrov is the gang leader of the Russian mob that run the town next to ours. When Papa and I first moved to England, Dimitri had it in for us. We spent endless amount of years fighting with each other until recently. Both men finally settled their differences and realised together, they could build an empire that is unbreakable. Another main reason, Petrov can help me and Papa with our ultimate goal, revenge. That doesn't mean we fully trust each other, Papa and I don't trust anyone. It simply means we're doing business with them.

It's all about the money. The power.

We feed off it, it keeps our blood pumping through our veins.

I reached inside my bag for my pistol, my fingers wrapping around the smooth object. I pulled it out and passed it between my hands, checking it was all loaded and ready to go.

"I'll definitely be needing this with Petrov in the room." I muttered, placing it into waistband of my jeans around my hip area. It's the closest section to my hand meaning I could get a good grip of it within seconds. If I need to.

"No guns." Papa snaps, shaking his head at me. I scoff at him, turning to glare at him.

"You are joking, right? Please tell me you're joking." I argue back. Papa's jaw tightens and he inhales deeply at my fiery attitude.

"I'm not joking. Keep the guns here."

"Papa, you can't be serious! This is Dimitri Petrov! He broke your neck only two years ago! His gang tortured me for three weeks." I say icily, my tone full of hatred. I lift my shirt up, exposing the numerous amount of scars that run up and down my body. I tried to hide them with tattoo's but after the first few, you give up. Working in this dangerous business, you won't leave without scars. It's impossible.

"Look at what they did to me, don't you remember? You want me to walk in there without a gun? Are you serious?" I hiss, dropping my shirt back down. My breathing is heavy, my chest rising and falling heavily with the anger pulsing through my blood.

"I have given him my word I will not be taking guns! We don't want a blood bath Alex, we want allies."

"That doesn't mean we walk in there with a big, red X marked on our forehead. You're making us a walking target Papa!"

"We aren't fighting anymore Alex. Even if we were, we don't need guns. You're a good fighter, an excellent fighter. We both are."

"Don't boost my ego Papa. I know my own skills, I still think you're wrong here." I snap back at him.

"I know what I'm doing. You need to trust your old man more. No guns Alex, that's final."

I don't respond, biting my tongue so I don't reply with a sarcastic remark that will anger him. I wait until he's walked out of the room before picking the gun back up.

Despite his words, I take it with me anyway.

*****

The meeting finishes just as the sun is beginning to rise. I yawn behind my hand, stretching my arms above my head. My eyes are drawn in and red from lack of sleep but thankfully, me and Papa are walking out of here alive.

"Do you want some breakfast? My treat," Papa mutters, pulling open the door of his black SUV. I nod my head slowly, scrolling through my messages. My muscles are aching and I can feel the gun digging into my sides from hours of being pressed against my skin. I like the feel of it, the safety it provides.

"When do you want me to finalise the deal with the rest of the men? They want to know when the next job is, they need paying Papa." I mutter, running a hand over my tired face. Our group is built up of the leader, Papa. Next one down is me, his son. After that, we have Juan who is a useless piece of shit so I don't include him. The next ones are our men, the ones who work for us. It's a small group but fiercely loyal and strong. It's a mixture of different ethnicities . . . in Papa's world we're all equal.

We don't do culture rivalry.

That isn't who we are, our main goal as a group is money. Lots of money.

"Let them know the exchange will be on Thursday. Give them the rest of the details on the day. Send them five thousand each for this week, a bonus from me."

I nod my head silently, making a mental note inside my head. We continue to drive for a few minutes, a comfortable silence settling upon us.

"Do you ever think about her?" I ask, continuing to stare straight ahead. The roads are empty, it's too early for people to begin their daily routine. I can feel Papa stiffen beside me, his posture tensing up. No matter how cold and distant he can be sometimes, I never let him forget.

"Of course I think about her, every day."

A lump forms in my throat and I stare aimlessly at the trees whizzing past us.

"Do you think -"

"Stop, hijo."

His words are blunt, emotionless. I turn to face him, in awe of how cold he can be. He doesn't flinch, barely shows any emotion on his face at all.

"Papa, you don't even know what I was going to ask you." I say quietly. I'm annoyed, irritated.

"It doesn't matter Alejandro, I want you to drop the subject."

I suck in a breath, locking my jaw tightly as I struggle to subside the anger building up inside of me. My fists ball up by my sides even though I'd never hit him, it's simply my first reaction. Papa pulls up in front of a store, holding out a folded over wad of cash. I shake my head at him, reaching for my own inside my pocket.

"The usual?" I ask, already knowing the answer. He doesn't reply and simply nods at me. He's distanced, deep in thought. I step out of his car and leave him alone with his thoughts. As I enter the shop, the bell above the door rings, announcing my arrival. I glance around at the wooden benches lining both sides, it's completely empty.

The smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries floats through the air and I walk over to the till, peering around for an employee. If I couldn't hear muffled sounds coming from the back, I would have assumed no-one was here.

"Hello?" I call out, reading the menu on the wall in front of me. I like the sound of a coffee right now. The muffled voices come to an abrupt stop and I watch as a man in his early thirties pokes his head around the door.

"Hey there! Good morning, we'll be with you in just a second."

And with that, he disappears. I roll my eyes, selecting the fruit salad from the counter and a banana for me. Hmm, make that two.

"Can I get also get two coffees, to go." I ask, raising my voice slightly so they can hear me in the back. I glance down at my watch and sigh, growing impatient.

"What kind of coffee? We do lots," the man yells back to me and I frown, resisting the urge to roll my eyes again.

"Just coffee. None of the fancy stuff, I just want plain black coffee."

"Honey, can you take these coffee's out to the young man please? I need to check on the pastries." The voice says, his tone slightly lowered to avoid me hearing. It doesn't work, I hear his every word.

I place the food down onto the counter by the cash register and pull out my money, counting through it. I'm halfway through when I hear a gasp come from opposite me and then the sound of cups hitting the floor. My eyes snap up and immediately, I feel my stomach tighten.

"Well, look who it is. . . " I smirk, holding her stare. I lean against the counter, shooting her my best flirtatious smile. . .

"Hello again Hermosa."