Chapter 5
Leon
Taking a night off last night means I have more shit to deal with today, but I guess it’s not a surprise.
We’re searching for Luka, trying to track the Russians to figure out the best way of destroy them, and dealing with our regular work, including everything Luka used to do.
“You need to do a drop-off today,” Dom says as soon as I enter my office, and I let out a load groan.
It’s my actual office, one three stories below the casino, not the sparkly one above I use to schmooze rich people in.
“Can’t Ivan go?” He is Luka’s right-hand man, and he picked up most of his work after Luka went missing.
“He’s asking for you or Luka specifically.”
Another groan, this time internal. “Fine, I’ll go. What else is up? Why did I receive a million texts last night?”
He hesitates for a second. “Ivan caught a Russian lackey.”
My ears perk up as I stand up from my chair. “Where is he? Does he know where Luka is?”
Dom simply stares at me, and I know I won’t like whatever comes out of his mouth next. “He didn’t know where Luka is.” He scratches the back of his head.
“Didn’t?”
“He’s dead.”
My fist slams into my desk sooner than I can stop it. “Jebemu mater. Why the fuck is he dead?”
“I guess Ivan got overzealous in his interrogation tactics.”
I point my finger at him. “He should fucking know better.” Grabbing my phone from the desk, I slip it into my pocket. “Tell him to meet me here once I get back.”
He dips his head and follows me out of the office. I eat up the long, dark hallway with long strides and enter the elevator, Dom right behind me.
How did Father deal with all this? I was by his side, learning the ropes of the job, but he made it seem effortless. People flocked to him. They trusted him. He also didn’t own a casino franchise on top of leading the family business, which, I guess, made things simpler.
“When is Johnny coming back?” I ask. Johnny is my casino manager. He has been on the West Coast for a month now, overseeing my other casinos.
“He should be back this weekend.”
“Good.” At least I won’t have to deal with the casino side of things anymore. I have enough things on my plate already.
Dominik drives the car, while I check the hundreds of texts and emails I missed out on.
Most of them aren’t urgent, but everyone acts like they are.
At one point, I stop reading, and focus on opening them to lower the little number next to my app icon.
I’ve always been a multitasker. An organizer.
But owning eight casinos, and leading a mafia family currently at war, seems to be my limit.
Especially when I’m forced to do these menial tasks my brother typically did. Fuck, he’d be happy to hear my thoughts now.
When our father died, I took over the family business as the leader. Luka took any chance he could to let me know I couldn’t do this without him, and I guess he was right.
I rub my eyes, working on three hours of sleep. After last night, I should’ve slept like the dead. But I wasn’t so lucky. Instead, I tossed and turned in my king-size bed, thinking about the woman who couldn’t run away faster than she did.
It’s unusual, really. Women typically linger as long as they can. It’s why I don’t have sex at my place, ever. I don’t want them coming back with a basket of cookies, or whatever the hell they do to make you fall in love with them.
Last night, though, there was no time to find a better place. To get a room at a hotel. That would have simply taken too long, and I needed to have her as soon as possible.
It’s probably the burnout I’m feeling that made me so desperate. Letting my dick lead the way is not something I typically do. But damn, he did a good job of choosing. He twitches in my pants, as if agreeing, but Dom parks the car in front of an abandoned warehouse.
This. This is why I hate drop-offs. While Luka prefers his combat boots, my Luis Vuitton shoes are not made for the ruined concrete floors.
Dom enters first. His right hand is holding his gun up high, while his left drags a bag full of money.
The stale scent of urine permeates the room.
He lowers his weapon, so I relax, taking in my surroundings.
Mold in the corners, wet spots on the walls, a metal staircase that is a tetanus cesspool. How nice.
My lips flatten as my eyes trail toward the man standing in the middle of the room. A head shorter than me, he lifts his chin up as if it’ll help his case.
“Leon,” he says, and the three men surrounding him pull back half a step.
“Ben,” I respond, making him wince. He prefers to be called by his last name, Russell, but I’m not his fucking fairy godmother.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks.
“Luka is otherwise occupied.” My words don’t leave room for extra questions.
“Of course, of course.” He steps to the side, revealing a large crate behind him. “Here is the merch.” He gestures his hand out like a magician’s assistant, and my eyes suppress a roll.
I nod to Dominik, who approaches the crate, sneaks a peek inside and closes it. He grabs one side of the crate, dropping the bag with the money, and eyes me with intention.
“Need a hand?”
He grunts, and I grab the other side.
“You’re not going to take a look?” Ben asks, his voice apprehensive.
“Do I need to take a look? Would you cross us?” I level him with a glare.
“N-no, of course not. It’s just that Luka always looked inside.”
“Like I said, Luka is otherwise occupied.”
I don’t wait for a response. Dom and I lift the crate and carry it out to the car.
If this dusty wooden crate ruins my Brioni suit, I swear to God I’m going to lose my fucking mind.
We load the crate into the trunk, and Dom slams it shut.
I shake the dust off my hands and pants, my face scrunching with disdain.
“You good, boss?” he asks as he starts the car, the corner of his lips turned up into a smirk.
“Just drive.”
He lets out a low chuckle. It’s been a while since I was on this side of the business.
Dom parks in the garage underneath the casino. The delivery of the arms we got from Ben went over smoothly. I lick my thumb, trying to rub the scratch from my shoe. It disappears underneath my thumb, and I huff a relieved breath.
My unofficial office can’t be reached directly from the garage, so Dom and I make our way through the ground floor and the back offices of the casino.
“Ivan will be here any minute now,” Dom says as we pass the surveillance room, but I hear his voice like I’m underwater.
On the enormous screen my security guy is scrutinizing, I recognize a silhouette that’s hard to forget.
Her back is turned to the camera, but I’d know that ass anywhere.
Her dress is dark green today, complementing her red hair and her stunning curves.
My eyes stuck to the screen, I trail her hypnotizing movements until she turns her front to us.
My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her face, before I realize she can’t see me.
Dom clears his throat, snapping me out of my trance.
It’s when I notice Mike, the security guy, licking his lips and everything clicks into place.
He doesn’t suspect she’s cheating. No, he’s taking his time watching her because he’s probably imagining her out of that sinful dress she has on.
A flame starts in my stomach, traveling all the way to my fists. “Is there a reason you’re focusing on this camera while ignoring all the other potential cheats?” I bite out.
Mike scrambles to switch the screen to a different camera when a voice calls from the hallway. “Boss.”
I turn to see Ivan, wearing his signature black cargo pants and combat boots. Exactly what Luka wore every day. I swallow down the fear that my brother is in danger and jerk my head to signal that he should follow me.
As soon as we enter my office, I approach the dry bar and pour myself a drink. I don’t offer him one.
I drop into my chair, shooting him a disappointed look. “Want to tell me why the first Russian we captured is dead without giving us anything?”
The black of his shirt expands to the blackout tattoo on his neck. His jaw clenches, but his eyes are devoid of emotion. “It happens.” He shrugs, and I grip the shot glass hard enough to break it.
“Does it? Here I was, thinking you’re a professional.”
“If you did the dirty work yourself, you’d know it happens,” he grits through his teeth.
“Look, I know your loyalty lies with Luka. But I’m doing my best to get him back.” My finger traces the edge of the glass in a feeble attempt to calm me down.
“And you don’t think I want him back?” He stabs a finger to his chest, his eyes now burning with rage. “He might be your blood, but I consider him a brother, too.”
I sigh, relaxing back in the chair. I get him. He’s arguably even closer to Luka than I am. “Did you at least get some intel?”
“The boy was a mess. He was wailing so hard I could hardly make out the words, and no, I don’t think he was privy to any useful intel.”
I rub a hand over my face. “Fine. Don’t let it happen again.”
He grumbles in response.
Just as he reaches the door, I add, “What about the club?”
“I’ll handle it.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. Luka bought a sex club a few months back.
It was his passion project that I’ve shown little respect to.
I was too deep into the family business side of things, trying to pick up where our father’s death left us, to support his endeavor.
The least I can do is keep it afloat until Luka gets back.
The rakia sloshes in the small glass as I pour the second shot. I down it while I wait for my computer to boot up. With three clicks of my mouse, I have a clear shot of the woman I spent last night with.
She’s back at the poker table, worrying her plump bottom lip.
The green dress doesn’t show off her cleavage, but the curve of her breasts still makes my mouth salivate.
Her stack of chips is low, and the men at the table watch her like hyenas.
I’d love to say they’re after her chips, but they’re probably after something else entirely. Which reminds me.
Dom picks up after the second ring. “Yes, boss?”
“Get rid of Mike.”
“Sorry?”
I inhale deeply, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Fire him. I want him fired.” Considering our line of business, I should really be careful with my words.
“When do you want me to do that?” Was he always so exasperating?
“Tonight.”
“Did he do something wrong?”
“Is this a fucking Q I’m now down two suits because of her.
Not that I mind, considering the jacket looks better on her than it does on me. And I might imagine her wearing it. Preferably with nothing underneath.
I’d give her my entire closet if it came to it, which is concerning. Fuck, I’m losing my mind. I need to get my shit together.