Chapter 22 Leon
Leon
My dog barely acknowledges me while I rush to get ready in the morning, desperate to leave my house as soon as possible. It’s fine. I’m not a fan of her right now, either.
A part of me respects the fact that she protected Alex last night, but the other part of me screams ‘traitor’ internally. It’s not like I would have hurt Alex.
If she were anyone else, Dom would already have her six feet under.
But the thought of hurting her sends bouts of rage through my bloodstream.
That’s what angers me the most. I both hate her and can’t stand to hate her.
I want her to hurt just like I did, but I want to protect her.
My mind is a mess of contradictions when it comes to her, sending my inner control freak into a spiral.
Entering the casino, I walk right past my upstairs office and make my way downstairs. The dark, windowless room fits my mood better, anyway. It also hosts fewer memories of Alex spread out on my desk or down on her knees for me. Still, the image of her is impossible to get out of my head.
My office is spotless, with no trace of me treating it like a rage room. The first thing I do is pour myself a drink. Alcohol on an empty stomach at ten am isn’t the best idea I’ve had, but my facial muscles are in pain from my constant scowling. A few shots of rakia will surely relax them.
Three shots later, my theory is proven wrong. If anything, my jaw is even more clenched, my brows even lower than before. No matter how I try to distract myself, my brain can’t move away from the image of Alex in my apartment, shying away from me like she’s afraid.
You were trying to scare her, a voice in my mind adds, unhelpfully.
I let out a sigh, my head dropping to my hands.
Her eyes were widened and damp; her frantic pulse practically visible.
Her lip was trembling, but she held her own.
If I listened to my heart, I’d say she was more confused than anything.
There wasn’t recognition on her face when she found out I knew.
Fuck, she’s good at what she does. A perfect actress.
A knock rings out, snapping me out of my funk. “Come in,” I say, raising my head to look half-presentable.
Dom’s massive frame fills the office. “Morning, ?efe.” He eyes me warily, as if I’m fragile, and it’s just one more thing that pisses me off.
“Say what you need,” I bark out.
“I’m bringing good news, I think.”
My ears perk up.
“We found Luka’s car.”
His words echo in my chest. “Luka?”
Dom shakes his head. “No sign of him.”
I let out a sharp breath. It would be too good to be true. Still, this is a perfect opportunity to pull my mind off a certain redhead. “Take me to it.”
Twenty-five minutes later, we pull to the side of a deserted road, just outside of the city.
Not even three hundred feet from the view of the road, I spot Luka’s abandoned Range Rover.
Angry dark clouds cover the sky, but the rain has just subsided.
I slam the car door behind me, mud sloshing with every step.
There go my shoes.
Dom doesn’t seem to mind; his high combat boots are made for weather like this. “The keys were inside,” he says, opening the doors of the abandoned vehicle.
I’m not sure what my eyes are searching for, but the inside is perfectly mundane. A few gas station receipts in the door pocket, a pair of black sunglasses on the dashboard. I open the glove compartment, finding nothing inside.
He took his gun. Or someone took it from him.
In the back seat, there are a couple of hundred-dollar bills strewn around. I pop the trunk, finding nothing but scratch marks left from various crates he hauls and a bunch of dog hair.
“Prints?” I break the silence.
Dom clears his throat. “It was wiped clean. No prints.”
“Stains?” My heart thumps faster, waiting to hear if my brother’s blood was found on the leather seats.
“We did a quick sweep with a UV light. No blood found, for now.”
A relieved breath slips out. “So they took his car to kidnap him and dropped it here?”
“Seems like it.”
“Any track marks?”
“No. But it had been raining pretty heavily for the past few days. It’s possible that the rain wiped everything out.”
I swallow. We’re back to square one. “Good work. Bring it to the police and let them do the forensic analysis and put a detail on Alex. I don’t want her to leave our sight.”
“Sure thing, ?efe.”
I walk back to the car just as the rain starts again. The rhythmic movement of the wipers is hypnotic, but my thoughts are still in full force.
“Why doesn’t any of this make sense?” I let out a huff. “No attempt at contact, no signs of struggle.”
“They could have drugged him.”
“And why the fuck is his car just lying around here? It’s not their way of doing things.” The Russians have a knack for fire, and my bet is their preferred way would be to burn the vehicle, rather than going through the trouble of wiping it clean.
“Maybe we’re looking at it from the wrong angle?” Dom glances at me before pulling his gaze back to the road.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What if the Russians didn’t take him?”
“No? It was aliens then, wasn’t it?” I shake my head.
“I’m just saying. You were fighting one moment, and the next he was gone, along with the girl you were fighting about.” He shrugs.
“And the trail of dead bodies?”
“You mean your uncle, whom he hated?”
“He was still family,” I respond, but my voice lacks conviction. I’ve explored the same angle plenty of times. Shit, I’ve explored every angle there is. Luka is a stubborn bastard.
I forced him to work with our uncle. I’ve let the man experiment with Luka’s brand-new sex club.
My tongue runs over my top teeth. My brother bought it wanting to prove himself.
To Father, to me, and maybe to himself. After our father died, the need to make something of that place grew even bigger.
I took it away to keep Uncle complacent.
Fuck.
My hand runs through my hair. I took over his club while he was still mourning our father. That club was his way of dealing with the loss, and I bulldozed over it with my way of dealing—taking charge of everything around me. Pulling the reins tighter.
But running away isn’t his M.O. Neither is killing our blood, no matter how despicable Uncle was.
The elevator pings as it opens its doors on the top level of my casino, ready to take me down to my office. I step a foot inside, but a nervous voice stops me from entering fully.
“Going downstairs?” Johnny asks, a smile plastered on his face. We have worked together for quite a while, but I guess he senses my mood.
“That was my plan, yes.” I fucking hate hypothetical questions.
“It’s just…” He rubs the back of his neck. “We have those manager interviews lined up.”
Fuck, I completely forgot about that. “When?”
“Now?”
“Is that a question?”
“No. The interviews are now.” He stands taller, like he finally decided to put his foot down.
I dip my head. “Let’s head to work then.”
I sit through four mind-numbingly boring interviews, my thoughts mostly elsewhere.
Interviews are kind of my thing, typically.
I love making people squirm under my stare.
I love trying to read them and then comparing notes with other people who were present.
But even the sight of my desk is too distracting.
A pile of papers reminds me of when I removed everything from it, just to place Alex’s soft and pliant body on top of it.
Every time I get up to shake hands, I’m reminded of the way she dropped to her knees before me and took my cock to the back of her throat.
Johnny asks what I assume are appropriate questions to the candidates while I scowl in my seat, equally aroused and pissed off by my stream of thoughts.
“Well, thank you for coming. We will let you know what we decide.” Johnny’s words are my cue to stand up and shake hands, but when the fourth candidate leaves, my casino manager drops into the seat in front of me. “So… what do you think?” He eyes me with suspicion.
“They’re suitable candidates.” He lifts his eyebrows. “Sorry, I’m a little distracted today. Which one did you like best?”
“Oh, I already had a favorite. But I wanted you to sniff them out.”
Tough luck. “Which one is your favorite?”
“Candidate number three.” He drops a file onto my desk, showing me a face I faintly recognize, even though the man was in my office half an hour ago. He goes off on a tangent, telling me all the reasons Candidate Number Three, also known as Rick Weston, should be the guy I hire.
My focus turns to the screen, but it only reminds me of spending my hours in the same place, staring at the security feed. Eventually, I realize Johnny has stopped talking, and he’s waiting for me to jump in. “I trust you. If you think he’s the best candidate, then offer him a job.”
“Sure thing. What about his employment package?”
“The usual. But make sure it’s significantly lower than yours. He should work his way up the ladder.” Johnny nods in agreement. “And make a plan of how you’ll monitor him.”
“Of course. I already have a system in place. I’m just happy to stay on one coast for the foreseeable future.”
“You deserve it.”
“Thanks, boss.” His mouth curls into a smile beneath his goatee before he leaves my office.
As soon as I’m left alone, I make my way to my downstairs office. Even though there’s nothing here to remind me of her, I can’t escape my mind and the thoughts that beg to resurface.