Demented (Atlantic City’s Most Wanted #2)

Chapter One

Eight months. That was how long Lazarus had his knees in the dirt. He had followed people, spent countless hours watching houses, and rubbed elbows with trash. Of course, most people would argue he was trash. It was likely true. More than the countless tattoos and scars, Lazarus also gave off a vibe. He knew it. It was impossible to escape. He was a twisted psychopath. Lazarus had never sweated that. He got paid extremely well to embrace his insanity. Lazarus killed people for a living. He very desperately wanted to find the head of the snake and dissect it, sending pieces of it to everyone they hurt. Whoever ran the drug trade in Atlantic City was more protected than anyone Lazarus had ever seen, but Lazarus was close. He felt it.

Unfortunately, whereas Lazarus blended well with the dregs of society, power always spewed upward. The closer Lazarus got, the more he stood out. That was fine. He still had his ways. Everyone liked to gamble. Atlantic City Casinos were the perfect spot to cross paths with the elite. It was nothing for them to sit at a table and lose money all day. Fortunately, poor people did that too.

Lazarus pushed the button on the slot machine where he sat every couple of minutes to keep up pretenses. Meanwhile, his gaze never stopped moving toward the closest poker table. More specifically to Andreas Bouras. Andreas was a high roller. He obviously came from money, and he was every bit as deadly as Lazarus. The only difference between them was who pulled the strings.

Eight months ago, someone had ordered a hit on Lazarus’ friend’s husband. Lazarus had itched to kill the bastard who attacked Gable. In his sleep. Like a coward. When they found his attacker dead, Lazarus might have let it go, except the guy’s death pecked at the back of Lazarus’ brain. They found him stabbed to death with a note pinned to his chest, stating they were square. Lazarus’ obsession started with the mystery of it all. The more this guy eluded him, the more Lazarus needed to bathe in his blood. No one escaped him. He had a reputation to uphold.

Months of work had led him here: Andreas. Lazarus sat feet from the man who knew the answers to Lazarus’ questions. He couldn’t take the guy here. Casinos were mob territory. Even Lazarus wasn’t that stupid. Casinos were neutral ground. Lazarus might get his hands on Andreas, but it would be the last thing he did. He didn’t want that. It wasn’t good enough to squeeze Andreas. Lazarus needed the name of his boss. That was all. He was prepared to cut that name from his tongue.

“Does he owe you money?”

Lazarus’ head whipped around at the question. A man with perfectly styled brown hair and dead-looking light green eyes sat with a drink in one hand, looking comfortable yet bored. It was obvious he had been sitting there for a minute. No one ever sneaked up on him. Yet this guy had. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The man dipped his chin toward Andreas. “You’ve been watching him like he owes you money.” The guy paused. “Or fucked your dog, for a good hour, and that’s only as long as I’ve been here. I have no idea how long before that.”

Lazarus fell back on being personable. He was a firm believer in fetching more flies with honey than vinegar. Until the moment he slit someone’s throat, anyhow. “Do you know firsthand how someone looks at a person who’s fucked their dog?”

A sexy chuckle fell from the man’s lips.

A hunger hit Lazarus he hadn’t experienced in a while: white-hot desire. Lazarus didn’t want people. If he got the itch, he simply screwed the first willing person. He didn’t even care about their gender. It was rare as hell for anyone to actually pull an emotion from him.

“A sense of humor. That always makes a man twice as sexy.”

Lazarus’ eyebrows rose. The guy was average size and build. He was polished—like he had never seen the inside of a public school. There was a definite slight accent filled with the boredom of the elite. He obviously came from wealth, which meant he was lazy and by no means ready to get wiped across the floor by someone Lazarus’ size. Yet he had made a comment like that to Lazarus with no clue of Lazarus’ sexual orientation. Lazarus’ lust doubled. Bravery mixed with confidence was sexy as fuck.

“I’m Lazarus.”

“Does I’m Lazarus have a last name?”

Nothing about him was real, so it didn’t matter. “Melnyk.”

The guy leaned forward, holding Lazarus’ stare. “Noir Antonsen.”

Danish. Yum. He recognized the accent now. It wasn’t heavy. Just enough to make him interesting. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, as well.” Noir stood, and Lazarus learned why he hadn’t been afraid to flirt with him. Several men in black suits with earpieces appeared like wraiths. “Perhaps we’ll meet again sometime.”

It wasn’t often Lazarus was stunned. Equally, no one ever got the drop on him. He hadn’t spotted a single security guard, especially an entire team. Lazarus tried not to show his shock. “I’d like that.”

Noir smirked. It was hot.

“The car has been brought around, Your Highness.”

Lazarus was floored. He worried he might have to pick his jaw up from the floor.

Noir barely spared the man a glance. “Good.” He focused on Lazarus. “Are you coming?”

Goddamn. A man used to getting everything he wanted. The temptation was thick. “Sorry. I’ve got business.”

“That’s too bad.” Noir turned away. He was quickly swallowed by security on his way out.

Lazarus watched until he couldn’t see him any longer. He really wanted to kick himself for declining the invitation. Lazarus knew a bad decision when he saw one. Noir was definitely that. His gaze moved back toward the poker table. Fucking hell. Andreas was gone. With a growl, Lazarus dug out his phone. There was no sense in scouring the casino for him. The place was huge and Lazarus didn’t know how long he had been gone. He should have left with Noir. Lazarus opened his web browser and searched for Noir’s name. His shoulders fell at the immediate flood of results. That security guy hadn’t been playing. His Royal Highness, Noir Antonsen. Prince of The Republic of Serveno . So, not Danish. A smaller county nearby, though. Lazarus had been close. Goddamn it. Lazarus would never get within five feet of the guy again. Fucking royalty. Nothing like ruining his own shot, all to follow a guy who had vanished. For fuck’s sake. What a day.

The moment Noir climbed into the back of his SUV, he opened his messages. He knew the report would be waiting. His people were the best in the world. Lazarus Melnyk had Noir’s alarm bells clanging. There was no reason for him to be following Andreas. No good reason, anyhow. The file was waiting, as expected. Unexpectedly, it was nearly empty. Lazarus Melnyk. No middle name. Forty-two. That was it. People didn’t have nothing in this day and age. Everyone had a digital footprint of some kind. The only people who had nothing were trouble.

“What do you want us to do?”

Noir eyed his personal guard. Ajax had been with him since Noir was a child. Not once had he treated Noir like he had watched him grow up. Noir was his prince. Always would be. “Put a tail on him and send Andreas on a trip. I think he needs a tropical vacation somewhere off the map.”

Ajax nodded. “I’m on it.” He pulled out his phone and started typing.

Noir stared out the window. He had been rejected. Noir wanted to laugh. Lazarus was nearly twice his age. He definitely looked as if he had seen some things. Not once had Noir been accused of slumming it. Lazarus was definitely not his usual style. The hard body, scars, and tattoos. The facial hair with just a touch of gray. Damn. He was intrigued. Lazarus looked intelligent. He had to be to have gotten this close to Noir. Of course, he didn’t know it.

The phone in his hand rang. Noir didn’t recognize the number, but not just anyone could call him. He answered. “Yes?”

“I think I was a little hasty turning down your offer.”

Noir froze. His gaze slid to Ajax. “How did you get this number?”

Ajax immediately went on alert.

A sexy laugh rumbled through the phone. “I’m very resourceful.”

Noir hummed. “Perhaps you can tell me about these resources over dinner? You choose the place.”

Another delicious laugh caressed Noir’s ear. “Where does one take an entire security team for dinner?”

A smile snapped to Noir’s face. “In my experience, any damn where I want. Don’t worry. You won’t even know they’re there.”

Ajax stared at Noir with a puzzled look.

Noir ignored him. “So what do you say? Do you plan to turn me down again?”

There was a pause.

Noir held his breath. He was more intrigued than he cared to admit.

“There’s a restaurant called Alexander’s on Ninth.”

Noir curled his nose but didn’t argue. He had never eaten there, but Noir was accustomed to more upscale places. “I’ve seen it.”

“Meet me there at seven.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.”

Noir tried not to smile again. Ajax already looked suspicious. “See you.” He disconnected the call. “I’m to meet him at Alexander’s at seven.”

Ajax dipped his chin. “I’ll set up everything. Someone with no background is dangerous. I’d say this is a terrible idea, but this is the best way to determine his motives.”

Noir nodded. “Agreed.” He kept his tone bland and his thoughts to himself. There was no way he would admit to being interested in someone so beneath him. Then again, the guy didn’t exist on paper. Maybe they weren’t that different after all.