Chapter 7
We were onlytwo days away from the main event, and the so-called Angel of Mercy was still a ghost to us. Despite yet another one of Lipovsky’s men turning up dead in a rundown hotel, evidence of her handiwork, she remained out of sight. It was maddening. Then there was Vincenzo, acting stranger than usual, if that was even possible. When Massimo confronted him about his odd behavior, Vincenzo shrugged it off, blaming the stress of his wife’s pregnancy and the sleepless nights that came with it. He said he just wanted his family to escape this nightmare. That sentiment wasn’t unique to him; we all craved that escape, a way out of the dark shadow Lipovsky cast over us. But with each passing day, and the Angel of Mercy still a mystery, that escape seemed further out of reach.
I tucked myself into the shadows of the casino, waiting and watching Lipovsky and his men. They strutted around Vegas as if they owned the streets they walked along. A few encounters with Massimo had left him on edge even more. He had to put on a front so as not to tip off Lipovsky that we were on to him and his disgusting schemes. My gut churned with revulsion as women threw themselves at him. Did they not know the monster that lurked beneath the Armani suit? He’d wine them and dine them, then send them off to their ill fate—sold to the highest bidder.
I watched as Andrei, Lipovsky’s second in command, strolled into the room. Attached to his arm was the most stunning woman I’d seen in a long time. Her hair, despite being blonde and clearly out of a bottle, was swept back in some type of braid that resembled a mermaid’s tail. It hung along her back, caressing the skin that was bare all the way to the top of her ass. The golden dress she wore was a scrap of material that barely covered her front. It stopped at the top of her thighs, giving a perfect view of her sexy legs. Shifting to get a better look, I watched as Andrei tugged her in for a kiss. He was more than happy to show public affection, but her body language screamed something different. Andrei leaned in and spoke in her ear, making her stiffen and nod. She turned and started toward me, but not before he slapped her backside. She froze, and I watched as her eyes clenched shut and her fingers balled into the slightest of fists. His eyes stayed on her backside as she moved in my direction.
Interesting. It would appear I found a weakness in the ranks. I turned my back to her and tugged the baseball hat I wore, concealing my face as she ambled down the hallway past me toward the ladies’ room. Once I heard the door snick shut, I glanced toward the main room, ensuring Andrei was otherwise occupied. Confirming he was no longer standing there watching her retreat, I eased my way toward the restroom and paused. I waited a heartbeat before pushing open the door and stepping inside.
I half expected her to scream at my sudden intrusion, but I was met with silence. Confused about where she could have gone, I searched each stall, coming up empty-handed. Turning back toward the door, I was shocked to find it closing. How in the hell had she gotten out without me noticing? Hurrying my steps, I pushed open the door to see the backside of her body hurrying down the hallway. I started after her but halted my steps when she was tugged against Andrei. Who the hell was she to him, and how in the fuck had she snuck past me?
I watched their interaction for a moment before heading in the opposite direction. I was due to meet Massimo and Lorenzo, the head of the Bianchi family syndicate, to discuss information Lorenzo’s sister, Sofia, had uncovered. The Bianchi family controlled the Mafia Syndicate in Rome, Italy, and, most recently, Reno, Nevada. After we decimated the recent sale of humans in Columbia—the place where I’d lost Carmela—Lorenzo took control of Reno. His father, Filippo, still controlled Rome. With the help of Massimo and, ironically, Miguel Angel, leader of the Sure?os, Lorenzo now ran the syndicate in Reno. The weirdest aspect of the Bianchi syndicate was Lorenzo’s second in command—his sister, Sofia. That position was typically reserved for a man, but she was far more suited than any man I’d ever met. Hell, Sofia gave Vincenzo, Massimo’s second (and brother), a run for his money.
Slipping through the entryway, I hurried over to my Tahoe and climbed inside. The engine rumbled to life as I keyed in Massimo’s number.
“Alex.” His voice filled the interior of my car. “Where are you?”
“Sorry, boss man. I got tied up at the Bellagio. I’ll be there in about,”—I glanced at the digital display on my dashboard—“seven minutes.”
“Fine… anything interesting at the casino?”
My mind conjured up the image of the blonde woman. “Andrei was there with Lipovsky. He’s got himself a beautiful woman who seems to be attached to his hip. Might be a weakness we can exploit.”
Massimo sighed. “We’ll discuss it when you get here. See you soon.”
As the deadened silence wrapped around me like a suffocating cloak, the phone’s abrupt betrayal left me alone with the cacophony of my thoughts. This woman, a visage that should have been foreign, haunted the edges of my consciousness. Even through the smoky haze of distance and circumstance, there was an unshakable familiarity about her that niggled at the back of my mind, teasing the fringes of my memory, but I was certain we had never crossed paths before.
Time had turned me into a veritable hermit. My world had shrunk to the confines of my small but comforting routine. Days were spent in the company of Falcon. Our silent walks were the only reprieve from the solitude. Nights I spent under the dim lights of the family-owned nightclub, a sentinel at the door, observing life but never partaking.
Even amid the noise and the flashes of interest from women who mistakenly thought they could stir a desire within me, my resolve remained ironclad. They were met with nothing more than a polite nod and a barrier they could not hope to breach. As the women who had tried before them learned that my attention was an unattainable prize, locked away behind the walls where memories of Carmela still echoed, a sweetly painful refrain.
She was the one, the only one, who had held the key to the me I used to be. In her absence, the lock had rusted shut, leaving a void no other presence could fill. Carmela was a ghostly presence, felt but unseen, her essence interwoven with every part of my being. She was gone physically, but I kept her buried deep within the sanctuary of my heart.
Pulling into Discoteca’s parking lot, I quickly secured my vehicle and hurried inside. Bypassing the throngs of people enveloped in the melody pouring out of the speakers, I hurried past the bar and down the hallway leading to Massimo’s office. Pushing open the door, I was surprised to find not only Lorenzo, Sofia, and Massimo but Miguel Angel seated inside.
“Miguel.” I nodded my greeting toward him and swiftly shut the door. “I hope I didn’t keep you all waiting too long.” The clicking of nails across the hardwood floor had me chuckling. “Do I want to know why Falcon is in your office?” My dog nuzzled his way past Massimo and promptly sat at my feet. I reached out and rubbed his head, earning a lick on my arm.
“When I went upstairs to check on some things, he was barking like a madman. I broke into your apartment and brought him down here with me.”
“Seeing as you have the access code to my apartment, it’s hardly breaking and entering. You’re going to spoil him if you give in every time you hear him whining.”
“Meh.” Massimo waved me off, “He’s the club mascot. But we’re not here to discuss Falcon. Sofia has some information about the mysterious deaths of Lipovsky’s acquaintances.”
Turning my eyes to the woman, she arched a brow.
“Alex, if you had met me for dinner, this would be old news.” A low-sounding growl resounded through the room, but it wasn’t from Falcon. Cutting her eyes at the man responsible for the noise, she said, “Seriously?”
“Princesa, you are testing my patience. I’m not in the mood for your little games.” Miguel practically snarled the words.
Sofia rolled her eyes and turned back to me. “Excuse Mr. Angel, he seems to be lacking in manners. As I was saying, I had intended to tell you over dinner,” She was halfway through a breath, about to continue, when Miguel opened his mouth to interject. One sharp look from her, though, and he clamped it shut, his objection left hanging unspoken.
“As I was trying to say,” Sofia carried on, “my talks with a few locals have turned up something interesting. They’ve all mentioned seeing a blonde woman hanging around the victims shortly before the incidents. As you know, the women who were rescued by the Angel of Mercy also claim it was a blonde-haired woman. It’s not much, but it’s a lead, and I’m willing to bet she’s after Lipovsky just like we are.”
“We know he’s the ringleader behind the trafficking, but why is she going after Lipovsky?” Lorenzo’s voice cut through the tense air with a question that seemed to hover on all our minds: “Why him?” The words were laced with curiosity and urgency. “There are plenty of other auctions for her to close down in Columbia—so why come to Vegas?”
Sofia’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, her gaze shifting toward me as she addressed her brother. “I was counting on that question, Lorenzo,” she said. The smirk suggested she was holding onto a piece of the puzzle we were all eager to place.
“You remember Carmela was on the list for some high-roller the night we blew their operation open in Columbia,” she reminded us. Her mention of Carmela’s name cast a shadow in the room, a reminder of the stakes at play.
Massimo,always the one to piece things together, leaned in, his interest piqued. “So, you think Lipovsky was the one brokering the deal?” His question hung between us, the potential answer sending ripples of implication through the group.
Sofia inhaled deeply, readying herself to lay down her cards. “No,” she said, turning from Massimo and locking her eyes on mine. The way she held my gaze made me feel uneasy inside.
“No? Then why would she risk coming here and outing herself? This woman has kept herself hidden for months, not allowing anyone to know who has been responsible for the rescue of hundreds of women. Seems stupid to chance coming here for one man.”
“She’s not risking it for just one man.” Sofia paused. “She’s risking if for the man.”
“I don’t understand.” Her brother, Lorenzo, broke the weird silence, making everyone glance at him. “You’re saying she is trying to take out the man who runs it all, so she can destroy his trafficking business?”
“Yes and no.” Sofia shrugged.
“Woman,” Miguel snapped. “Quit fucking around and tell us exactly what you’re trying to say. We don’t have time for this runaround.”
Sofia gave him a look that would disarm even the meanest of men. “Stronzo,” she muttered before looking back at me. “I’m saying that there is a good chance your suspicions are correct.”
“My suspicions?”
“Yes.” She tilted her head, watching me. “The Angel of Mercy isn’t just going after Lipovsky because he is the head of the snake… she’s going after him because it’s personal.”
Massimo swore under his breath as he realized Sofia was insinuating that the woman known as the Angel of Mercy was seeking vengeance.
“You think…” I ran my palm down my face and took a deep breath.
She stood up, her presence suddenly more commanding as she moved closer to me.
“The Angel of Mercy is driven by a personal vendetta,” she declared. Her fierce and unwavering eyes locked onto mine. “He owned her, and in her mind, he stole something irreplaceable. Now, she’s committed to settling the score.”
“Hold up, Sofia. What are you getting at?” Lorenzo’s voice broke through the tension, a mix of confusion and urgency.
She leaned in, her words a hushed secret meant for my ears alone. “She believes Lipovsky’s the reason the man she loved is dead. That’s enough fuel for a lifelong crusade.” Pulling back, her expression hardened with resolve, Sofia addressed the whole room. “She won’t rest until she’s destroyed the man who broke her heart.”
With a dramatic flourish, she opened the door to leave, but Miguel’s voice anchored her. “Princesa, we need to talk.”
I should’ve been reeling from the intensity of it all, but Sofia’s parting shot—a defiant gesture thrown over her shoulder—was classic. It cut the heaviness, pulling an unwilling chuckle from me.
“Alex,” she said, eyes bright with a challenge. “Find the Angel, and you’ll unlock everything we’re after. Just be ready for what you find… because if I am right,” she paused. “She won’t be the woman you remember.”