6. Dante
CHAPTER 6
DANTE
H ow fucking long is this gonna take?
I peer at my watch.
Five minutes have passed.
Feels like hours.
And I can’t hear a goddamn thing from where I’m standing outside the door.
I rake a hand through my hand and lean back against the wall. I tailed her to make sure she didn’t pull a fast one and escape out the back door, yet something inside of me snapped as I followed her.
Watching her stalk through the crowd in that tight red dress, her perfect ass swinging with every angry step she took, dark hair my fingers itch to fist cascading down her bare back…I couldn’t help myself.
And she couldn’t pull off her little shrinking violet act, hard as she tried. That woman killed Vigo — I’d stake my life on it. The reason why is still eluding me, and it makes me wonder who else might be on her hit list.
Because if I know one thing, she’s Russian mafia.
I saw the star when she pulled the key out of her bra at Tatiana, and again just now when I was feasting on her tits.
That kind of ink can’t be mistaken for anything other than a rite of passage.
She’s killed for that five-pointed star, more than once.
And her sob story about that ‘interview’ gone wrong was complete crap.
The only thing Vigo interviews women for are his very special positions, and I guarantee none of them involve walking around his casino slinging drinks.
Knowing all of that didn’t stop me from kissing her, though, or from launching that erotic invasion against her. I can still feel her slim leg snaked around my hip, clenching me tight as I drive my fingers into her soft, wet pussy.
My cock jerks at the thought and I swallow a groan.
This was not the goddamn plan.
All I needed to do was find out what the hell Conor was up to, eliminate the threat to our families, and hop a flight back to Vegas.
Now I’ve got a gorgeous bratva assassin to contend with, and she has information I need.
Information I was supposed to get from Vigo before his throat was impaled with a steel blade.
The big question is, can I get what I need from her without getting stabbed myself?
Or worse…
My phone vibrates against my pants and I pull it out, stabbing the Accept button.
“Yeah?” I grunt.
“Did you take care of things?” It’s Matteo. I squeeze my eyes shut and press a clenched fist against my forehead.
“No. Someone else did,” I say in a low voice.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Conor?”
“I don’t know.” I stare at the closed door, willing it to open as Matteo unloads on me. “We got there too late.”
“Do you know anything, Dante?” he yells. “I sent you in there to collect information!”
“Yeah, well, I got some information, but it wasn’t enough, okay? I didn’t get to the target in time.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “Listen, we can talk tomorrow when I get to the hotel. I’m still working an angle here.”
“Don’t fucking tell me that angle is lying spread-eagle and naked on your bed.”
I roll my eyes. If only. But I don’t tell him about the girl. Not yet. I still don’t have a clear-enough read on her or why she killed Vigo, and even though I want to bend her over a couch and fuck her until she can’t remember her alias, I plan to get the information I need before this night is over. “No, I’m still out with Patty. But I may have a lead.” That’s all I offer right now. I know my brother, and if I gave him anything more, he’d keep me on the phone hounding me for details I just don’t have to offer.
“You’d better grab hold of that goddamn lead before you get on the plane. We need to know what we’re up against. That’s why I sent you in, Dante. I didn’t send Roman, I didn’t send Sergio. I sent you because you’re the best at what you do. Please don’t fuck with my perception of you.”
“Look, this is a sensitive job, Matty. That’s why you wanted me to handle things. I could set fire to the whole fucking place, but that wouldn’t get us any closer to the truth. We found out Conor owed a debt. That’s it. I don’t have the details, though. Vigo’s vocal cords were, ah, a little bit compromised, you know what I’m saying?”
Matteo lets out a snort. “Great, so what the hell do we do now? If someone did that hit, they might have been trying to set it up so Conor takes the fall. Then we’re all up shit creek.”
“Look, Patty is gonna be watching and he’ll let us know if anything points in our direction.”
“I don’t like this, Dante. What in the fuck would Conor be doing with the Russians? Because I seriously doubt it was just a gambling debt that degenerate owed them.”
I scrub a hand down the front of my face. “I don’t know. But let’s face it. He’s too much of an idiot to carry out that kind of a hit on his own.”
“What are you thinking?”
I sigh, leaning my head back against the wall. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not usually the guy who comes up with the theories about ‘who’ or ‘why’. I just carry out the ‘what’ and ‘where’ parts of the plan, you know?”
“I know, thinking isn’t your forte.” Matteo’s dry laugh makes me cringe.
“Fuck off,” I grumble. “I just don’t have enough information, and since you need me back in Vegas, I don’t have time to pull it all together.
“So you don’t think you should high-tail it to Hell’s Kitchen, find Conor, and put him through a little rat torture to get him talking?”
“As satisfying as it would be to make the cocksucker suffer like that, I think we pull back on the reins a little bit.” I shake my head. “And by the way, you don’t sound like a boss right now. You sound like a guy who wants to make his wife’s enemy suffer.”
“He is a common enemy, as much to us as he is to her,” Matteo grunts. “And he should fucking suffer. Him, his father, and his other schmuck brothers.”
“Easy, bro. “You know Niall and Quinn can’t do anything in their positions. They aren’t gonna stage a coup or anything. They’re being led around by their dicks because they have no other choice.”
“Patty did,” he says darkly.
“Patty is a different guy. Plus, we both know he’s not gonna do anything to get his pretty face smashed in. So, right now, we watch and wait. I guarantee it won’t be long before Conor pulls something and I’ll be all over him like fucking flies on roadkill.”
“You’d better be right,” Matteo says. “If anything happens to Heaven and Aisling?—”
“Nothing will.” My jaw tightens. “That’s why you have me.” And as I say the words, I know it’s only going to be that much harder to tell him I’m moving on after we handle this business with Conor. I need my life back — outside of Sin City.
And not just because I’m perpetually on the run from my own demons.
Killing is what I’m good at, the only thing I’m really good at, for that matter.
I don’t allow myself to ever get comfortable in one place.
Not anymore…
Matteo is silent for a second. I know he wants to tear Conor apart with his bare hands. I don’t blame him. But if we want to see the bigger picture, we need to keep him alive.
For now, at least.
His time will come.
Fuckers like Conor always go down in flames because they can’t see past their own noses.
And if we’re talking about noses, Conor is the type to do more snorting than looking, anyway.
“Okay,” he finally says. “We’ll do it your way.”
“Good. Now take the rest of the night off, have few drinks, and fuck your wife. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
“Fuck my wife. That’s a good one. Sure, I’ll see if I can slip something in while the baby sleeps for like an hour. Christ, we need this au pair so badly.”
“Oh pair of what?” I furrow my brow.
“Not ‘oh pair’, dipshit. An au pair, you know, like a nanny.” He groans. “Maybe then I can have sex again.”
“So you’re not getting any.” I smirk. “Makes sense why you’re wound tighter than usual.”
“Screw you, Dante.”
“Yeah, see, I’m not the one having an issue with that.”
“I’m flipping you off right now,” Matteo says with a loud yawn.
“Okay, so you go to bed and not fuck your wife. I’ll wrap things up here.” Speaking of wrapping things up, where in the fuck is my killer kiss?
“See you tomorrow. Safe flight. I had one of my guys drop off your car in short-term parking at the airport.”
“Good,” I reply. Matteo doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve got a side job to handle once I get back to Vegas, the first one I’ve taken in months. And an Uber won’t give me the fast getaway that I’ll need.
Soon enough, I’ll get instructions for the hit and I’ll finally be able to scratch the damn itch that’s been plaguing me for months.
I click to end the call, letting my hand drop to my side. I look over my shoulder. Nobody is coming. I could just peek my head inside the bathroom?—
I shake the door handle.
Locked.
Dammit!
I stuff my phone into my pocket and rap on the door with my fist. I don’t really want to attract any attention to myself, but an uneasy feeling eats at my gut as I stand there with my ear pressed to the door.
I don’t hear a thing.
Of course, the blaring music could be the reason for that.
I jiggle the handle again. It’s not strong. Flimsy, at best.
I take another look over my shoulder and kick open the door, figuring I’ll deal with the hellfire that erupts after I get some answers.
The one-person bathroom is tiny, barely enough room for a toilet and a sink.
My gaze drops on the red fabric hanging out of the trash can positioned next to the single window to the outside.
She didn’t even bother to close it.
“Motherfucker!” I yell, kicking the trash can so hard, it falls over. The lid tumbles off and my mystery woman empties out of it.
Dark brown wig, tight red dress, small handbag.
She completely stripped herself bare to the point where she may as well be a ghost.
I grab the bag, pulling it open for no good reason considering the fact that anything of value would be on her person.
And that would be an interesting sight to see.
What kind of clothes could she possibly have fit into this tiny purse?
Of course there isn’t a single clue in the bag. I throw it against the wall and let out a loud roar.
She played me like a violin.
And there was no way she was gonna stick around and get caught for whatever indiscretion she committed earlier tonight…like murder.
I don’t think we’ve seen the last of her.
But since my ‘angle’ managed to escape my clutches, I’m not as clueless about her involvement as I am about Conor’s.
I open the window and climb out of the small opening, feeling a little like a contortionist maneuvering my way out of it. I straighten up, quickly jogging around the front side of the building and then back down the side street to see if I can find…Christ, I don’t even know who I’m looking for right now!
Not that there’s anyone in sight.
For all I know, she could have called someone to come pick her up.
Someone she’s working with.
Someone I might want to get acquainted with.
I fist my hair and stalk toward the back door of Velvet Lounge instead of shoving myself through that window again. I push open the door so hard that the girls standing right inside jump back with looks of horror on their faces.
“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” one of them yells as I push past. I stop for a second and silence her with a menacing glare.
Lucky for her, she gets the message I just impaled her with.
I shove past people grinding against each other on the dance floor, my cock now limp as a fucking overcooked spaghetti noodle.
Patrick looks up from his phone with a single eyebrow lifted when he sees me.
“I thought you were with her in the back.”
“I was.”
“Well, where is she?”
“Gone,” I say through clenched teeth, picking up my shot of vodka and sucking it down before slamming the glass down again.
“Gone where?”
I narrow my eyes. “She didn’t tell me before escaping out of the fucking window!”
“So why are we still here? If she escaped, shouldn’t we try to find her? We’ll definitely find her in that red dress!”
“No dress,” I grunt.
“What are you talking about?”
“She stripped out of it. Left it in the trash along with a wig.”
“Shiiiit,” Patrick mutters. “But if she left her clothes, we’d have an easy time picking out a naked chick running through Brooklyn, yeah?”
I rub the back of my neck. “God only knows what she’s wearing. And as far as I could tell, she disappeared into thin air.” My shoulders slump. “But one thing I know for sure. She’s Russian mafia, I saw the star.”
He furrows his brow. “I didn’t see anything. Where was it?”
“In my mouth, along with the tit it was inked onto.”
Patrick gives my shoulder a punch. “Damn, I knew you were stealth in your job, bro. When was her tit in your mouth? And how did I miss it?”
I nod toward the bathroom.
“You fuck her, too?”
“No time,” I mutter. “But the bigger issue is that she wasn’t working on her own tonight.”
“You mean for her interview?”
Jesus Christ. Why is he so goddamn slow on the uptake?
“Patty,” I say. “There was no interview. It was bullshit!”
“What are you saying?”
“I think she killed Vigo. And she might not have been acting alone.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“If you are going to say that she might have ties to Conor, then yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
“That’s not good. Conor, in bed with the Russians?”
“Patty, if you ask me another fucking question, I might put you through a goddamn wall. I’m just saying.” I swallow hard. It’s insane for me to feel this way, but my gut clenches when I think about that cocksucker Conor’s hands on…whoever the hell she is.
Let’s call her Red Dress.
Red Death.
Whatever.
I don’t even know her name, but somehow I’m all tangled up in her lethal web.
Conor.
I wanna fucking vomit just thinking about it.
For all I know, she wants me dead.
But, as much as I hate myself for it, I want her .
“Okay, so lemme phrase this as a statement so that you don’t bite my head off about answering another question,” Patrick says with a smirk. “You’re going back to Vegas tomorrow and I’m staying here in the city. I’m gonna keep an ear to the ground and see if Conor does or says anything suspicious, now that I know what I’m looking for. And I’m gonna keep you posted. Hopefully, I’ll have something by the time I see you for Aisling’s christening next weekend.”
I rub my temples. “Just keep the rest of your family out of this. You’re on your own here. If you need backup, you call Roman. Whatever happens, do not tip off Conor. Christ only knows what he’d do to you if he found out. I mean, he tried to kill Heaven while he was high, for fuck’s sake.”
Patrick’s gaze darkens. “I can handle him. I will handle him.”
“Be careful. The last thing you want is for whoever he’s working with to handle you . Because if that happens, you can be sure as shit they’ll be coming for us next.” Blood rushes between my temples, rage bubbling under my skin at the thought of Conor’s betrayal.
If I can’t kill him, then goddammit, I need to fucking kill somebody.
Immediately, if not sooner.
The burner phone in my pocket buzzes against my leg almost on cue. I pull it out with a roll of my eyes.
I can’t handle more of Matteo right now.
My gaze drops to the screen and the corners of my lips lift.
Just what I’ve been waiting for.
Fire and Ice. Las Vegas Blvd. Five million.
Well, feather my ass and jiggle my balls.
I’m about to scratch the hell outta that itch.