Chapter 58
CHAPTER
FIFTY-EIGHT
DARE
Lee pulls up to Rustik’s house, the exact fucking opposite direction of where we were headed. We’re back in Vegas, and I have to confess—if only to myself—that I hate being here alone.
I’ve always considered Rustik reasonable, but I’m not sure he’s going to be that once he finds out I was planning on killing his man. Before Lee turns the car’s engine off, I turn toward him, an idea having exploded in my brain.
“Are you fucking Rocky?”
Slowly, too fucking slowly, he turns his head, his eyes meet my own, and that’s how I know the truth of it. “And she’s the one who started all this, at least with you being involved?”
Instead of answering me, he throws the driver’s car door open and unfolds from the seat, which means that’s exactly what happened. That fucking cunt did this, and I have to wonder what she thinks she’s truly going to gain here.
Except I already know what she’s going to gain… her brain's being blown the fuck out.
The moment I step onto the porch, the door to the house opens, and I see a man standing there I don’t recognize. So this must mean this is official Bratva business and not a relaxed meeting.
“This way. They are waiting,” the stranger announces before he steps to the side to allow us entrance.
Lee moves into the house before me, and I follow behind him. I’m playing the game. Soon I’ll find out what I need to know. I’m going to stay quiet and listen. I’m going to watch. I’m going to take it all in and then do whatever needs to be done to survive this. Then the war is on.
Lee walks into the dining room, where it seems Rustik conducts most of his business, at least when there is a group of people. I don’t blame him. Our conference room for church is about this size, maybe a little bigger.
As I step into the room, I quickly assess my situation. There are six men, none of whom look happy to see me, and Rocky.
Fucking bitch.
When I narrow my eyes at her, she smirks as she watches me. For whatever fucking reason, she thinks she’s won a game or something. I have news for her: she hasn’t won a goddamn thing other than a bullet to the fucking head.
Rustik stands halfway from his seat in a greeting, his eyes shifting from me to Lee. “So, you,” he begins, “you betrayed your longtime colleague for a chance at what?”
Straight to fucking business. That is one thing about Rustik that I’ve discovered. He does like a bit of the flair. He enjoys sharing a meal and taking the time to have a conversation, but when it’s business, it’s goddamn business. I can appreciate that.
“I did what I had to do.”
Rustik chuckles, though the smile does not reach his eyes. In fact, his gaze is vacant. He’s shut his shit down completely. I can appreciate that as well. This might not go the way I thought it was going when I was brought here at gunpoint.
“To pad your bank account?” he asks. “And what, keep this woman?”
Rustik lifts his hand and waves his fingers toward Rocky, his lip curling in disgust—which is fucking great—before lowering his hand to his lap again.
I feel the exact same way about her right about now.
I’m keeping my thoughts and opinions to myself for the moment, more than happy to assess this situation before I become immersed in it myself.
“Essentially,” Lee murmurs.
“So, by this admission, you can’t be trusted. You will never be loyal—not to me, and certainly not to Dare. And she is loyal to no one, so she will never make a good partner. A whore, sure. A partner? No.”
Lee balls his hands into fists at his sides, and I realize that was not what he was planning on hearing come out of Rustik’s mouth. He wanted to be praised for bringing me here. Lee takes only half a step forward. Rustik tsks when he does, so he stops.
“Dare was going to come after your man. His woman already did something. She was there at his office.”
Rustik lifts his hand again. This time, his index finger shoots up, then his middle finger as he makes the sign for the number two in the air, and out of the corner of my eye, I watch a man lift a gun with a silencer attached.
One shot.
Then two.
They don’t realize it’s happened until blood sprays and I watch as she falls to the floor. Neither she nor Lee standing next to her makes a noise until her body slams to the floor with a thud. Dead. Rocky is now nobody else’s fucking problem.
Flicking my attention over to Rustik, I arch my brow and wait for what is coming my way. He won’t kill me, but I have no doubt he’s going to throw some harsh words at me. Except he doesn’t. He lifts his hand again, wriggling his fingers, and his men move behind me.
I don’t turn around. I don’t even show him an ounce of hesitation. I keep my expression neutral and my thoughts hidden. I’m confused as fuck, though—don’t get it fucking twisted. I have no idea what the hell is about to happen.
Then, after some rustling around behind me, I watch as Samuil is hauled across the room and is forced to stand in front of Rocky’s lifeless body. I’m sure seeing her like that should make me feel some kind of way, but it doesn’t.
She betrayed our club.
Betrayed me.
The death she got was actually a kindness compared to what I would do to her. Now I watch and wait to see what happens with the asshole, the baby daddy. Fuck me, if I had the opportunity, I would gut him here and now.
“Where is Dare’s woman, and what did you discuss?” Rustik asks.
Samuil doesn’t even look back at me. He keeps his focus forward and only on Rustik. I halfway expect him to fall to his knees and beg to suck Rustik’s cock at this point. But he doesn’t answer.
Samuil dips his chin slightly, though he doesn’t fall to his knees, which halfway surprises me. “I told her to leave town. To disappear. I didn’t touch her.”
“And she came to you?” Rustik asks.
“She wanted to make sure I didn’t want anything to do with the baby.”
I find it interesting that he’s being so open, but maybe I shouldn’t. Rustik is his boss and holds his life—literally—on his index finger. The man could scare the shit out of someone easily.
“So your solution was to tell her to disappear?” Rustik asks. “Well, to hire a cop to cause a problem, gather the whore, and tell her to disappear.”
“Yeah,” Samuil mutters.
“Wrong choice.”