Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
Nathan
Almost the moment I stepped back into the ballroom, D’Angelo was right there to greet me with a knowing smile on his face.
“You were in the bathroom a long time. Should I avoid the hors d’oeuvres?”
I grabbed a glass off a nearby serving tray, not even looking at what it held. “Don’t look so smug. I know the kinds of things you get up to. A hotel bathroom is practically classy in comparison.”
D’Angelo grabbed the glass out of my hand. “Don’t drink the red. I don’t know what vintage the hotel claims it is, but they’re lying. I’ve had boxed wine that’s better quality.”
I no longer held a drink, but my hand wasn’t empty. It held a small, folded piece of paper and an even smaller box, no bigger than a coin. Since D’Angelo had gone to such lengths to hand these things to me secretly, I didn’t ask him about them. Just raised one eyebrow in a silent question.
“You know,” he said causally as he set the untouched glass of red wine on a random side table. “I’ve been meaning to ask… Where did you find that Vicuna fabric? It’s so hard to locate places that produce it.”
The paper and box were both so small, yet as I realized what D’Angelo was hinting at, they seemed to suddenly weigh a hundred kilograms.
Or two hundred and twenty pounds, based on American measurements.
I’d asked D’Angelo to figure out which labs were capable of producing the pyrenic that had been used to poison the Vicuna fabric I’d gifted to Deacon. This wasn’t something we should be talking about in public where anyone could hear us. For D’Angelo to go through the risk of bringing me this list now, rather than waiting until we were secure in my office, then there must be something on the list I needed to see right away.
I pulled out my phone, holding it in the same hand as the paper.
“I know a guy who deals in rare textiles. I’ll give you his number.”
As I pretended to type out a text to D’Angelo, I snuck a look at the paper. It held a list of only five labs. Two of them belonged to D’Angelo, just as he’d said, and two of them belonged to people I was certain wouldn’t work with Caprice under any circumstances.
The fifth lab on the list, however, was a surprise.
As soon as I saw it, I knew why D’Angelo had brought it to me right away.
D’Angelo pretended to check his phone, as if I had really texted him, while passing me a small nod.
“Thanks. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to head out. I love parties, but I know nothing about fashion. This isn’t really my scene.”
He departed almost as abruptly as he’d appeared, leaving me to deal with the new crisis he’d dumped on me.
I almost wanted to hate him for bringing this to my attention, but I couldn’t. It was something I needed to know.
After he left, I checked the contents of the small box. The latch was so miniscule, I could barely wedge my fingernail under it to pry it open. Inside, the box held a single red pill. I’d seen it only once before, and was surprised D’Angelo was able to procure it for me so quickly.
Based on the way the night was going, I was going to need the pill sooner than expected.
The box was stored carefully in my pocket, while the paper was unceremoniously thrown away without a second glance. I didn’t need to see it again. The names on the list still hovered in my mind like a phantom.
The fifth lab on the list was one I knew, because it was one of my own.
Specifically, it was a lab run by my own organization. My suspicions were confirmed. There was a traitor right under my nose.
I scanned the crowd looking for Deacon. He should have been back already. When I didn’t immediately see him, worry gnawed at my gut.
“Lose something?”
Agent Belden’s voice grated on my nerves more than usual, like sharp cat’s claws dragging along my spine.
It was a miracle I didn’t flinch as I turned to face her.
“Agent. I’m happy to say no one has been murdered this time, which means you can’t be here in a professional capacity. So, it must be personal. Are you a fan of fashion design?”
My flippant tone clearly annoyed her, and for a moment, I saw her hand twitch toward her gun.
Surely, she wasn’t going to draw a weapon in the crowded ballroom. With so many people around, even if there wasn’t a single bullet fired, someone was bound to get hurt. Crowds were dangerous things when people started panicking.
Before her hand made contact with her gun, she crossed her arms instead. “I don’t waste my time with frivolous things.”
“Oh.” I shook my head sadly at her. “But frivolous things can be the most fun.”
“Does your little pet know that? He seemed very serious about you. Pity you don’t return that commitment, but then I’m not surprised. It’s in your nature to sacrifice anything that isn’t useful for you anymore, and the poor thing’s usefulness seems to have run its course.”
I grabbed her arm hard enough that I could feel the outline of muscle under her clothes.
“What are you talking about? What have you done to Deacon?”
Something bad had happened to him. I could feel it, like a sixth sense crawling up the back of my neck. It wasn’t a surprise. I had enough enemies that someone was bound to target him as soon as they realized he was important to me. I just hadn’t expected Agent Belden to be the one to act first. As a member of law enforcement, harming civilians should be out of bounds for her.
Perhaps, now that Deacon had committed a crime, she no longer saw him as an innocent bystander. There was no evidence proving that Deacon killed anyone, but there was no evidence of my own crimes either, and she was still certain of my guilt.
Agent Belden didn’t try to pull away from my grip and looked me up and down with a critical eye.
“Perhaps he hasn’t lived out his usefulness after all. If you want him back, here.” She pulled a hotel key out of her pocket and handed it to me. “Although, I would hurry. He was fine last I checked, but there’s no telling how long that will last.”
My teeth ground together so hard that my jaw ached, but I didn’t dare voice my thoughts at that moment. I contented myself with imagining all the painful ways I could kill her as I took the hotel key.
It was for the Bellagio’s penthouse.
Turning so quickly I probably left a friction burn in the carpet, I shouldered my way through the crowd, back through the door, and out into the hall. It was an infuriatingly long ride up to the hotel’s top floor, especially since Agent Belden insisted on joining me in the elevator. My own security was posted all over the building, but I didn’t bother to tell any of them where I was going or what I was doing. They were professionals and didn’t need me to micromanage them.
Besides, they probably wouldn’t be much help this time.
I tapped my fingers restlessly against my crossed arms as I waited for the elevator to finish its assent. Barely two feet away, I could feel Agent Belden watching me, taking obvious delight in my agitation.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
If the person waiting for me at the top of the hotel was who I thought they were, then things weren’t going to end well for her. Unfortunately, the agent was too wrapped up in her obsession with me to see the wolf’s den that she’d walked into. I almost felt sorry for her, but there was no room inside me for any other emotions. The worry and anger I felt over the threat to Deacon consumed every last drop of my emotional tolerance.
At the top of the elevator, I was met with more security. Not my own personal security, but faces I recognized.
With rage burning through my veins, I swiped the key over the lock to the penthouse and practically kicked the door open as soon as the light turned green. Inside the penthouse, I found exactly what I expected, but that didn’t make the bitter pill any easier to swallow. Even more security stood around the room and Caprice loitered off to one side, unfortunately still alive.
The security approached me, reaching toward the gun hidden under my jacket.
I grabbed their wrist before they could get close. “Touch me. See what happens.”
“Leave him be,” another voice said. The security left me alone, and I tugged my jacket back into place.
“What’s the meaning of this, Zaur?”
In the penthouse’s living room, my brother sat in a plush chair like a king holding court. He’d always had a grandiose way of carrying himself that made me laugh, except this time I didn’t find it so humorous.
Not when Deacon was kneeling on the floor at my brother’s feet.
Zaur smiled that same wolf-smile we’d both inherited from our father. “K?—”
I cut him off.
“Nathan.”
“Right,” he sighed. “Nathan. How plebeian.”
“Don’t act like you aren’t used to it. I’ve been going by Nathan Sterling for more than twenty years.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”
He rolled his eyes at me, and I had to look away before I smacked him. Instead, I turned my attention toward Deacon. He seemed unharmed, just unhappy, but I had to be sure.
“Deke, are you all right?”
No matter how confused or upset Deacon was, my little spitfire could never be contained. He sat as arrogantly as he could on his knees with his hands bound behind his back, almost looking like he’d chosen to be there.
“I’ve got a goose-egg on the back of my head that’s giving me a migraine, but overall, not bad.” Hazel eyes flickered with uncertainty between me and Zaur, no doubt noticing the similarities in our appearance. “So, um, what’s going on?”
“How many times do I have to tell you to shut up,” one of Zaur’s lackeys grabbed Deacon’s shoulder and forced him to bow forward until his forehead almost touched the floor. “Next time you speak, I’m putting a bullet in your skull.”
The sound of my gun cocking echoed through the room and drew everyone’s attention.
“Do it and you won’t be leaving this room alive.”
I’d drawn my weapon faster than anyone could react, and it sat in my hand ready to fire. For now, I kept it pointed at the floor, but the promise of violence remained.
Agent Belden stepped up next to me, though she was at least smart enough not to try and grab my gun.
“Are you still throwing around threats even now? You’re in over your head this time, Sterling. You’ve brought too much attention down on yourself, so your boss made us a deal. He’s handing you over.”
Her smile could have rivaled a kid on Christmas morning, except it was so much crueler.
“I told you I’d see you behind bars one day, even if it means making a deal with the devil himself.”
My gaze darted between everyone in the room.
Agent Belden.
Caprice.
The numerous bodyguards and flunkies.
Deacon.
Lastly, it landed on Zaur.
Before anyone could stop me, I stormed over to my brother and grabbed him by the ear.
“You brat. What have you been up to?”
“Ow. Ow. Stop. Let go.” He batted ineffectually at my hand. “What? People are supposed to think I’m in charge. That’s the whole point, right?”
“Yes.” I twisted his ear hard enough to shake his whole head, waiting until his flesh turned a painful red, then let him go. “But it seems like you’re starting to believe it as well. What is this nonsense? Secret dealings with the Vidales family I could almost understand. But Interpol? You’re trying to bring the law down on me?”
Zaur didn’t answer, just rubbed at his abused ear, and scowled at me like a chastised child.
I could feel the weight of so many shocked expressions as everyone in the room stared wide-eyed at me. I didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with them, so instead, I knelt beside Deacon and untied him.
“Sorry about this. I didn’t realize things had gotten so out of hand.”
Deacon massaged his wrists and gently touched the back of his head. “It’s fine. I’m— Ow!” He flinched when his fingers made contact with the back of his skull.
Pulling his hand away, I checked the area for myself. There was a tender spot on the back of his head where he’d obviously been struck, and a small cut to his scalp oozed crimson. It was a small wound, less than half an inch long, and wouldn’t require stitches, but the sight of Deacon’s blood still made me snarl with anger.
Glaring over my shoulder, I caught the eye of the man who had forced Deacon to bow earlier. He was one of Zaur’s favorite lackeys and the man was used to a certain level of privilege. However, he now seemed to sense that his privilege didn’t extend as far as he thought, and his gaze shifted toward the floor in a show of submission.
“So let me get this straight,” Deacon said, unconcerned by the wound on the back of his head. “This guy,” he pointed toward Zaur. “Is the leader of the Chechen Mafia. But, not really, because you…” His finger swung toward me in accusation. “Are actually in charge.”
“I’ll explain in a minute,” I said as I helped him to his feet. “Let me take care of things here first.”
Deacon still didn’t look happy, but he at least didn’t argue so I was free to address my brother.
“What is this about, Zaur?”
Crossing his arms, Zaur hesitated and refused to look directly at me. The two of us were similar in appearance, which wasn’t surprising considering our father’s strong bloodline. The biggest difference was our age. He was over a decade younger than me, closer to Deacon’s age than my own. To make up for it, he was always trying to make himself appear older with finely tailored clothes and a full beard.
I’d tried to tell him so many times that no matter how he styled himself, his attitude and posture would always give away his age, but he refused to believe me.
It sometimes baffled me that people honestly believed he could lead anything, let alone one of the top Mafia families in the world. He had his uses. Since everyone thought he was the one in charge, he was good at pulling strings. It had come in handy when I needed to get myself and Deacon out of police custody as soon as possible. However, making his own decisions had never been Zaur’s strong point. That was why we had agreed to this arrangement in the first place. So, he could enjoy the privileges of power without having to actually bear the weight of leadership.
I didn’t say a word, and just continued to stare at him in a silent demand for answers. The tactic had worked when we were children, and it still worked on him now.
In less than a minute, his resistance crumpled.
“I’m tired of being your figurehead.”
Other than our ages, one of the other differences between us was our height. I had a few inches on him, and I used them to my advantage as I confronted him.
“So, you want to be the one in charge now?”
“No,” he shouted, fists clenched at his sides. “I want you to take your position as the leader properly. No more skulking around in the shadows. You’re the one in charge, so you should be the one under everyone’s scrutiny. I’m tired of being your middleman and relaying your orders. Relay them yourself.”
My laughter bounced around the penthouse with such a sharp edge, it was a miracle I didn’t cut the paint from the walls.
“You spoiled bastard. Have you really grown so lazy that you can’t even handle the illusion of leadership anymore?”
“Hold on,” Agent Belden cut in, nearly stepping between us. She realized this was a bad idea just in time to stop herself, but still dared to jab a finger into Zaur’s shoulder. “We had a deal. You promised to hand Sterling over to me so long as I left your organization alone.”
Zaur rolled his eyes again, and this time I almost joined him.
“I lied, obviously.”
“You—” she started to argue, but never got further than a single word. For once Zaur and I were on the same page. Zaur pulled out his own gun and we both shot the agent at the same time.
Two bullets hit her square in the chest. She froze, confused about what had just happened.
A drop of ruby red blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. Wiping it away, she stared at the red stain on her fingers for a moment, brow furrowed in concentration. Then, like someone had flipped a switch and turned her off, she dropped dead to the floor.
I gestured at her with my gun, giving Zaur an incredulous look. “Really. You made a deal with Interpol?”
My gaze flickered toward Caprice in the corner of the room, who had stayed unusually silent since I arrived, and the final piece of the mystery slotted into place.
“One of the things I couldn’t figure out was how Caprice’s hitman managed to poison the cloth I gave Deacon. It was in the custody of someone from our family the whole time.” The barrel of my gun waved lazily at my brother, as non-threatening as a loaded gun could be. “You gave them access and helped them try to poison me.”
Zaur merely scoffed as he stored his own gun back in its holster. “Please, like you’d actually fall for that. I knew their little trick wouldn’t work on you, but it would draw attention to you. I’d hoped that if the authorities came down on you hard enough, you’d give up this whole charade and come take your proper place as the leader.”
I almost felt bad for Caprice. No wonder she was so bold when antagonizing me. She thought she’d made a powerful ally, but instead of a king, she’d found herself in league with the court jester.
“All this just to make me squirm.” I sighed and shook my head. “Do I even want to know what false promises you made to the Vidales family.”
Zaur started to answer, but before a single sound could leave his mouth, a vase suddenly came flying at him. He managed to raise his arm in time to avoid a serious head wound, but the broken porcelain still managed to leave a few good cuts on his face and hand. He was drenched in water and crumpled flowers, looking absolutely pathetic as he stared in shock at something just behind me.
Deacon came flying past me, wielding a small decorative statue that he’d picked up from somewhere.”
“You fucker.” He wielded the statue like a club.
I managed to grab Deacon around the waist before he could get close enough to bash my brother’s head in, but that didn’t stop him from flailing.
“Let me go. I’m gonna fucking kill him.”
Zaur darted to the other side of a nearby couch to put space between him and Deacon. “Nathan. What the hell is wrong with your boy-toy?”
I was just as confused as Zaur for a moment, but as Deacon kept struggling and shouting curses, I heard Kiki’s name mentioned.
Right.
Zaur may not have done the poisoning himself, but without his help Caprice never would have even gotten close. In a way, Kiki’s brush with death was Zaur’s fault.
There was no point in trying to calm Deacon down. He was enraged, and for good reason.
Instead, I just kept a tight hold around his waist and pinned him at my side.
“Your stunt may not have harmed me, Zaur, but there were still casualties. A designer on my payroll was killed, and a close friend of Deacon’s was seriously harmed.” When I looked down at the seething man in my arms, who looked ready to tear my brother’s throat open with his teeth, I couldn’t keep the fond look off my face. “He’s very protective.”
Zaur made a shooing motion with his hand, as if he could chase Deacon away the same way he swatted a fly. “Well, keep your crazy bitch away from me.”
My fond expression disappeared and was replaced with a cold glare. “Don’t you dare give me orders right now. Not after the stunt you just pulled. Do you remember what happened last time you threw a tantrum like this?”
It was a rhetorical question. We both knew he remembered.
From my pocket, I pulled out the small box with the single red pill that D’Angelo had given me. I still owed the other man for getting me the first pill a few years ago. Creating Fantaisiste to compete with Caprice was supposed to pay that debt, but all I’d done was double it.
Luckily, I liked D’Angelo, because it seemed I’d never be free of the man.
As soon as he saw the pill in my hand, Zaur immediately shut up.
I clicked my tongue at him like a disappointed parent.
“Zaur. Zaur. Zaur. What am I going to do with you?”