The early afternoon was warm, the air thick with humidity as he strode down to his car. The Porsche's silver paint glimmered in the sun, the lock chirping before he fell into the driver's seat.

Grimacing, he pressed a hand against the cut. It was aching, which was of course unsurprising, but it wasn't a distraction he cared to have during this meeting with Dimitri. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

It had been worth it.

He could still taste her in his mouth, still feel her body against his. Memories floated to the surface, and he allowed himself a last moment to indulge in her—in remembering how she looked, the sounds she made, the smell of her skin.

There had been something untamed about her this time. Something unleashed. He wished he could stick around to see what he'd let out of its cage.

Then his phone rang, making him scowl. Opening his eyes, he locked those thoughts away tightly. Last night had been fun, but it had been last night. Today he had work to do.

Digging his phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket, he frowned lightly at the dried blood still stuck in the small seams of the phone. He'd had it for about two months anyway, and made a mental note to have Leon transfer the data to a new one.

He answered the phone. "What?"

"And here I was thinking you'd be in a good mood," Leon said.

He was, but what did that have to do with anything? Remi pulled away from the curb, gunning the engine. "Now why would you think that?"

"Because getting laid generally has that effect," Leon offered, making Remi smirk before his second launched into business. "Moira called and told me what Anya said."

Remi waited for a beat, then prompted, "And?"

"And..." Leon sighed. "I'm not in love with the idea but Moira made a very... passionate case."

"Yeah." Remi narrowed his eyes at the truck following him. "Yeah, she did with me too."

There was a long silence from Leon. Then: "You don't think—"

"No," Remi snapped. "I don't. That's not the point. My point is I've got stitches in my side, Dimitri's kid is responsible and I would like something for my troubles. To soothe my ruffled feathers."

"Since when can a low-level street thug ruffle your feathers?"

Remi sighed deeply. "Since I don't like fucking bleeding all over Charlie's furniture?" He grimaced. "And since street thugs only follow orders."

He could almost imagine the disapproving glare Leon was wearing, but all the other man did was say, "Okay. So you still haven't told me what you want to do."

"And you haven't told me what you think."

"Does it matter?" Leon asked snidely, his attitude beginning to make Remi think that Leon was the one who needed to get laid.

"If it didn't matter, I wouldn't ask," Remi hissed, passing a crossover going twenty below the speed limit for reasons completely beyond him. When he was back in his lane, he said, "She had a point. Anya's tired of living under Dimitri's thumb—"

"So, what?" Leon interrupted. "You think she'd trade that for living under yours?"

"At least my thumb doesn't have antiquated ideas about women and working." Remi resisted the urge to snarl at his second, knowing Leon didn't respond well to emotion. His second much preferred the world of numbers and facts. Logic was the only way to deal with him.

"If we meet at a secondary location that neither of us controls... which would have to be outside New Orleans, it would take at the minimum another week to get everything set up. I'm not wasting time squabbling over dinner reservations, Leon," Remi started. 

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel. "Moira said that Anya offered up her place to Dimitri. Then, she came and told Moira this of her own free will, knowing that Moira would tell me."

He swore silently when he got caught at a light, and stared at the red signal wishing he could simply intimidate it into turning green.

Leon said, "So what? Maybe Dimitri told her to get word to you, hoping you'd do something stupid like actually agree to going in there alone." There was a brief pause, then he asked, "You aren't going to do something stupid like go in there by yourself, right? I already told Dimitri that wasn't happening."

Remi just snorted. Dimitri he could deal with on his own. The Russian knew well enough how capable Remi was in a fight. 

Besides, more spilled blood wouldn't solve any problems here today, for either of them. Especially considering that Remi was the only thing standing between the Russian foothold in the south and the Cartel's powerful grasping.

"It's not Dimitri that's the problem," Remi reminded him. "Yuri is going to be the real issue. He's been up in New York too long, doesn't understand how things run down here. Anya does though. If I can tug a few strings that give her a little more pull with her father's people, that's a win for us." 

Remi, for the life of him, couldn't understand why Dimitri would put an idiot like Yuri in charge when he had someone so much better at his disposal. He supposed it didn't really matter though. If Yuri started interfering in his business, Remi was well within his rights to remove that interference.

"I thought we stayed out of their business?" Leon said, and Remi could practically hear the raised eyebrow.

"We do," Remi answered. "And I'd prefer to continue staying out of family politics for now. The old man's still kicking and I have no personal beef with him. Doesn't mean we have to give up an opportunity to start moving pieces on the board." 

There was silence on the line, indicating Leon was processing all of this.

Remi went for the throat. "Anya will let Moira sneak in. She knows a show of good faith with me will get her places down here, unlike her brother, who thinks he owns something just because he looks at it."

The thought had him curling his lip. Didn't the kid know everything down here was already taken?

"What are you going to ask for?" Leon finally said, and Remi grinned in triumph. From the chilly tone, he knew Leon still didn't like the fact that he wasn't going to call this off and find a different venue, but he could live with that.

"I don't know," he said blithely. "Maybe I'll think of something when I get there." 

"Remi..." Leon sighed. "I really fucking hope you know what you're doing. You'd better be right."

"Aren't I always?" Remi started heading west once he was free of the Quarter. 

Leon snorted, then began lecturing on how Remi wouldn't survive for much longer just going off half-cocked. He was only half-listening when a bolt of inspiration struck him.

"Hold that thought," Remi managed before he hung up on Leon and called Moira. She picked up on the first ring but didn't even manage a greeting before he said, "The night Yuri sent his goon after me, I was there because you told me I needed to go talk to Anya."

"Yes?" Moira's voice was a little tense. 

Not that he blamed her. As Charlie had so astutely observed, he was a bastard. But he'd never for a moment questioned Moira's loyalty.

"What did she need to talk to me about? Do you remember?"

In all the madness of the past forty-eight hours, he'd nearly forgotten about that. Now he couldn't believe he'd almost overlooked something so potentially game-changing.

Moira inhaled sharply. "She said she wanted a chance to... prove a point. She wanted your help running a few things with the club."

"A few things like what?" Remi nearly purred, a desire nothing short of devious beginning to form.

"Things for a good time mostly," Moira said, voice soft. "Maybe something with a little more bang."

Remi hummed in admiration. The Russian was ballsy if she was nothing else. "Thank you, Moira," he said before hanging up the phone, suddenly very pleased by the prospect of what this day could turn into.

Then he called Leon back.

                                                                        §§§

Remi stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the side of his Porsche, watching the door to Circle Red. The club was quiet this early in the day, which was sort of the point. He didn't bother looking over as a car pulled in behind his.

The slamming of a door echoed down the quiet street. Then Leon said, "Is Moira already in there?"

"Mm-hm," Remi hummed. How she was inside he didn't know, since he hadn't seen how she'd gained access, but he knew she was there.

There was a brief silence broken only when a black Land Rover parked on the other side of the street. 

"How much would you bet that driver's not a driver?" Leon asked, sarcasm thick in his tone. Remi just huffed a laugh. He preferred gambling with his life, not his money.

An older man wearing a crisp navy suit and with a neatly trimmed silver beard was the first to get out. He looked directly at Remi, who smiled slightly and raised a hand in greeting.

Dimitri simply nodded, then turned and headed toward the club's front door.

Another car door slamming moved his attention to Yuri. The younger man sneered, straightening his unbuttoned jacket. He wasn't wearing a tie. He wore a three thousand dollar suit the way most rich boys did—carelessly.

Remi raised a hand again and wiggled his fingers at Yuri. The kid scowled and stalked into the club after his father, making Remi chuckle a little. It was almost no fun when they were so easy to wind up.

"You shouldn't mock him," Leon murmured. "It's just going to make this drag out more."

"But I'm so good at it," Remi drawled before he pushed himself off the Porsche and swaggered across the street.

He opened the door, taking his sunglasses off only once he was inside so he didn't have to wait for his eyes to adjust. Dimitri and Yuri were already seated at a table near the center of the room. Anya stood near the door, dressed in a fitted black blazer over a silky white shirt and in skin-tight jeans and heels that looked like she could kill a man with them.

Her dark red lips were pursed as he stopped in front of her. Remi leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her cheek, whispering, "How badly do you want to play ball?" He pulled back and more loudly said, "Thanks for lending us your place."

Anya's kohl-lined eyes flicked toward the table, but all she did was smile, the expression politely reserved. "It's my pleasure, Mr. Robicheaux," she said, her smoky voice loud enough for the others to hear. "If you need anything, just ask."

Tilting his head in acknowledgement, he stepped around her and strode toward the table. He used his foot to kick one of the two remaining chairs out from the table and sank into it, undoing the button of his suit jacket.

Leon hovered just behind him, drawing a glare from Dimitri.

"I'd told your man I wished to meet alone," the Russian said, accent twice as thick as either of his children's.

"Well," Remi cocked his head, "I suppose I can understand that." He moved his gaze to Yuri. "But it hardly seems fair that you're not alone."

"Fair?" Dimitri huffed a laugh. 

Remi allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of his mouth, tapping his index finger on the table. Anya made her way over to the them, carrying a tray of crystal tumblers and what Remi would bet was vodka in a matching decanter.

She met Remi's eyes briefly as she set the glasses down in front of them, her dark hair briefly shielding her from her family. Not that they bothered to pay her any attention anyway.

They all stayed silent as she poured the clear liquor into the glasses, then slipped silently into the shadows again. 

Remi tapped his finger against the cut crystal, watching the vodka ripple. From the corner of his eye, he watched Yuri shift impatiently in his seat and struggled to suppress another smile.

After tasting the vodka, Dimitri sat back in his chair and eyed Remi. Then he shook his head, rubbing at his temple. "Perhaps we should talk business, yes?"

"That would be preferable," Remi replied. Again he looked at Yuri, letting his expression slip to something a little more feral. "Retribution is such a messy thing to discuss after all."

Dimitri stiffened a bit, then downed the rest of his vodka with barely a grimace.

"Your boy only made one mistake," Remi said quietly, finally picking up his glass, turning it a little to watch the light spark off the crystal in a dull rainbow.

"Oh?" Dimitri raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

Remi tasted the vodka, lip curling slightly. He didn't like clear liquor. 

Setting the glass back down, he met Dimitri's gaze and smirked. "He didn't send someone who could finish the job."

That apparently wasn't what they'd expected him to say. Dimitri had a sort of blank expression on his face, while Yuri looked plainly pissed. Remi considered his next course of action briefly, then winked at the kid anyway.

Yuri shot to his feet, snarling something in Russian, then cowered as Dimitri slammed a hand into the table and barked an order. The younger man turned sulky, but sat back down.

Clearing his throat gruffly, Dimitri reached into his inner pocket and extracted a slim, silvered cigarette case. He put a hand-rolled cigarette to his lips, then glanced at Remi. "You mind?"

Remi waved a generous hand and waited as Dimitri lit up. The smell of tobacco smoke floated around them, turning his stomach. He clenched his teeth for a brief moment, ignoring the familiar scent.

Dimitri spent a few moments studying Remi, who sat easily in the silence. Then the Russian sighed deeply. "How do we make this go away, Mr. Robicheaux?" 

"I was hoping you might have thought of a meaningful gesture," Remi demurred. Before they could scoff, he leaned forward and pinned Yuri with a vicious stare. "But since that doesn't appear to be the case, perhaps Yuri has an idea?"

Yuri swallowed, his eyes flickering to his father.

Sitting back slightly, he allowed his gaze to go to Anya while Dimitri had his attention on his son. She stood within hearing range, but far enough away to not be noticed.

"But you know," Remi started quietly, finger again tapping at the side of the vodka glass, "now that I think about it, there is something that might make me forget the blood your boy spilled."

The fact that Yuri bristled every time Remi said "boy" sent a small thrill of satisfaction through him.

"Do we ever really forget spilled blood?" Dimitri murmured, pouring himself another vodka.

"No." 

The older man met Remi's gaze grimly, understanding the far-away quality in his voice. With a sigh, the Russian gestured for him to continue.

Remi rolled his shoulders, letting his gaze go to Anya. Her reaction was more important than her father's. Voice low, he said, "Circle Red."

Anya blinked once, then a small smile curled at the corner of her mouth. She dipped her head in a barely-noticeable acknowledgement.

It never got old, being right.

"The club?" Dimitri said in surprise.

"The management," he responded with a half-smile.

A dangerous silence filled the room as Dimitri turned in his seat to stare at his daughter, who had pasted a beautifully shocked expression on her face. Her lips parted as she shook her head in small protest.

No wonder Moira liked her so much.

"No," Dimitri said flatly.

Remi raised an eyebrow. "Mm." He shifted lightly in his seat, slowly, blatantly shifting his gaze to Yuri. "I suppose," he said, "I could always do this the old fashioned way."

Before he could so much as blink, a small automatic pistol was in Dimitri's hand, gleaming darkly. Remi inhaled slowly, never taking his eyes off the Russian's.

"Now... why don't you just think about that," Remi murmured. His finger tapped once more against his glass, making the crystal send a soft, clear note into the air. "Why don't you just think."

"Ask for something else," Dimitri ordered, making Remi go cold.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, fury sluicing through his veins with every hard beat of his heart. No one had spoken to him like that since before he'd put his father in the ground.

He stood slowly, buttoning his jacket, ignoring the gun pointed at his middle. "It's a little much, I know," he admitted. "My offer stands at this, Dimitri, I get the Circle Red, leaving Anya to run it. Hell, I'll even cut you in on twenty percent of revenue. Legal or otherwise."

The muzzle of the gun lowered slightly, making Remi just a touch more nervous.

"Baba," Anya started, just to press her lips together when Dimitri made a harsh slashing motion.

Remi smiled benignly. "I'll give you a few days to think it over." He hardened his voice. "If I don't get an answer I like, Dimitri, you will have at least one very bad day in your future."

"Are you threatening me, Mr. Robicheaux?"

Remi made his way toward the door, which Leon opened for him, dark eyes glued on the Russians, a hand at the small of his back. 

Putting his sunglasses on, he looked over his shoulder. "No."

They left Circle Red, Remi setting their pace at an easy stroll. Behind them, there wasn't even a breath of movement. He waited until they reached the car, then said, "Give me your phone."

Leon handed over his clean cell without a question. He did raise an eyebrow when Remi dug into his pocket and handed him his own cellphone. While he scrolled through the numbers in Leon's phone, he said, "I need a new one."

With a nod, Leon pocketed the phone, then waited patiently as Remi found the number he wanted.

The call was picked up after the second ring. "Mr. Robicheaux?" a cool, reserved voice answered.

"Hello, Gabriel." Remi shrugged at Leon's sharp look. "How would you feel about making an easy five?"