Chapter Three – Roman
The Luxor Casino was in full swing when I arrived.
Lights flashed, music pulsed, and the dice were spinning. A couple of men at a nearby poker table spotted us, and they quietened down, murmurs breaking out between them. But my sights were set on only one person.
He was the reason I’d bothered to come here, with more men than I would normally deem necessary, all armed and ready to blow up the fucking place if they had to.
“Where is he?” Lev asked someone behind us.
“Top floor, high-roller room.”
We moved through the crowd, the sea of people parting like a velvet curtain as we made our way up. The murmurings resonated as we passed, and finally, my target at the back of the high-roller room met my gaze through the swarm of people.
He froze in his seat, ignored his ongoing game of poker, and tried so fucking hard not to break eye contact.
We both knew anything could happen if he did.
Fear danced in his eyes, as bright as flickers of tiny fireflies in the dark. If I got close enough, I was sure I’d smell it oozing out of his fucking pores.
Each step closer set him on edge.
He swished the drink in his glass, took a swig, and nodded to one of his acquaintances. I saw his lips move as he muttered, “Clear the room. I’ve got an important friend,” and I didn’t have to be up close to pick the sarcasm in his tone, the quiver in his voice, and the regret that followed after he recognized my presence in the room.
Important friend? Yeah, sure. If the Grim Reaper was a friend. His fucking death sentence would’ve been more like it.
The others evacuated the room, leaving with grumbles and more murmurs on their way out. I dragged the chair closest to his and sat, crossing one leg over the other. I could almost hear his miserable heart stop beating.
“Martin fucking Claude.”
Lev and Kian rotated and assumed positions behind his chair.
Martin twisted uncomfortably, swallowed down the last of his drink, and sat up with a pretentious smile. Shimmering beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.
“Roman Varkov. What a pleasant surprise.” He patted down the scanty strands on his partially bald head and threw cautionary stares at the men behind him. “What do I owe the sudden visit?”
I massaged my temples.
The fucker thought I’d come all the way to play games.
I tilted to the side and reached for the cold steel hooked between my belt. If it wasn’t clear before, my intentions were made obvious now. But I didn’t take it out. My finger lingered just low enough to pass the message.
“Pleasant surprise, Martin?” I waved a hand around the room. “There are possibly over two hundred people here. Do you honestly believe that I came here to fuck around?”
He played the same card, keeping his defenses up. “I have no idea—”
“If you want my advice, I’d say keep the fucking drama aside. We can do that next time, if you live to see another day.”
Now, his fear was visible. He rubbed his palms against his shirt, and a sweaty handprint remained after he dragged it away. His anxiety heightened my irritation.
Martin Claude owed me money. And it was more than enough to make me want his head rolling like the fucking dice on the tables. He’d come to me on his knees, in complete submission, sniveling like a fucking pig, seeking protection, weapons, and a ridiculous amount of cash.
A successful businessman never passed up a promising deal. And the deal with Claude was a good one.
That was until the bastard thought he could get smart with me. He upheld his end of the deal and paused after making only half the returns. And he’d paused for six long months already.
Wrong fucking move.
No one played stupid games with me and made it out unscarred. He didn’t know it—not when I had on a poker face to keep him unsuspecting—but he’d dug his own grave.
I drummed my fingers on my knees, trying to hold on to every tiny fucking thread of patience I had left, when I made a subtle motion with my head. “You’ve been hiding.”
“Hiding?” He released a laugh that sounded in between a choke and a sob. “What...what are you talking about?”
I scoffed. “Playing that fucking card now, are we? Is this how you want us to do it, Martin?” I sat up. “Fine. If you want it the hard way, I’ll give it the hard way.”
“Look, Roman. I don’t want any trouble.”
I adjusted in my seat and took some time to scan the luxury casino. It was fancy, classy, and somewhat impressive.
“Good thing you’ve got running here.” I nodded toward the establishment. “From what I see, it won’t be too far-fetched now to believe this used up the rest of it. Where is it?”
He was swallowed again and scratched his brow. “I’m—I’m not sure what you’re talking—”
“The fucking money, Martin!” He visibly trembled and shook in his fake leather boots when I slammed a hand down on the poker table. “I’m not messing around. You have five fucking minutes to drop the rest of what you owe me. Don’t test me.”
Surprisingly, the bastard was not as cowardly as I’d pegged him to be. He wore confidence on his sleeves.
Behind him, Lev’s brows went up.
Someone was getting bold really fast. Too fast.
“The rest of your money, Roman?” Anger flashed through his eyes, and he clenched his teeth, muttering, “I don’t fucking owe you anything.”
Kian raised his arm, ready to hold our little friend’s head in a deadlock. But I shook my head and shifted forward on my seat.
“Say that again, Martin.” I grinned. “I dare you.”
He moved back, but his confidence didn’t waver like I expected it to. “Give me one bloody reason why. Why should I pay when one of my men ended up fucking dead? I came to you for protection, and oh, here’s the very funny part: You fucking killed him.”
“Is that it?”
Martin looked on the verge of choking in awe. “ Is that it? ”
I could have laughed. But I found nothing amusing.
“Not that I owe you an explanation, but since you’ve asked nicely , the fucking idiot couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Itchy palms and a big mouth never fucking end well, Martin. You know the rules. I don’t tolerate loose mouths or idiots. What did you expect? That I was going to stand there and watch him jeopardize the operation? Fuck, no. So, his loss— that’s on you. His inadequacies have nothing to do with my money. Allow me to remind you: You have three fucking minutes left.”
“No!” He shook his head violently and began to spew lots of rubbish I didn’t have the time to entertain. “...no fucking way I’m giving you a dime. You didn’t do shit!” he now yelled. “You didn’t keep your side of the bargain. You fucking killed Eugene, fucking monster!”
Great.
I exhaled and kicked my chair back.
I was done with this shit.
That was the sign Lev needed, and he roared in Russian, “Aim!”
The rest of my men, a dozen of them, flooded in with their guns raised. The cocking of steel drew the attention of the guests from the other tables, and loud screams erupted. Chaos followed immediately after, the excitement of the moment forgotten as they scrambled for protection.
I sighed.
Things could have gone a whole lot easier if Martin had been willing to cooperate.
Lev barked, pointing his rifle aimlessly at every head in view. “Every one of you remain in your fucking seats and put your heads on the tables now!”
No witnesses.
That was the golden rule. It didn’t matter if they’d heard what was going on; seeing it was prohibited. The witnesses of the crime had to go down, too.
A sudden quiet settled on the top floor, and everyone scurried back reluctantly, seeking a chair. The ladies whimpered, some men cried, and I was even more irritated. The scene in front of me was an eyesore. I pulled out my gun from the spot between my belt, aimed, and fired.
The sniffles and whimpering stopped. The silent crack resonated through the air; the sound of the bullet whooshing through and connecting with flesh definitely left everyone in a daze.
“Goddammit!” Martin coughed, dropping to his knees.
No one had seen it coming, not even the fucker on the ground. A pool of red gathered on his green shirt. The bullet had traveled right through his abdomen and was quickly spreading.
“Please, don’t do this. I have a wife and a daughter.”
A wife and a daughter.
I cocked my gun and deliberately ignored the dull ache in my chest after I remembered why I only had one of those.
“I’ll admit, it’s funny that you actually think I might give a shit.”
Groaning, he clutched his side tightly, immense pain visibly printed on his face.
I walked up to him, waited until he’d tilted his head back and looked me in the eye. Then, I gave a hard kick to his jaw and watched him topple backward.
Before he could slither away like the fucking snake he was, I pressed my foot down on his fresh wound. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, huh?”
“Nowhere, I swear…. Shit!” He coughed and sputtered more blood.
I moved forward, adding more weight to his side. His face turned a deeper shade of scarlet, and right before my eyes, he busted into tears, weeping like a newborn.
Lev and I shared a look.
Underneath my foot, Martin wriggled and tried to sit up. “ Aargh—God! Please...” he cried harder. “Please, fuck! Don’t...don’t kill me. I’m going to give you...I’m going to give you your money, I swear it. Please...even double.”
My ears twitched as fast as he’d said it. “Well, what do you know? At the end of the day, you’d turn out to be a good fucking investment.” The corners of my lips pulled to the sides, and I repeated more slowly, “You said double?”
He nodded.
That was what I liked to hear.
“Yes....” Another cough, and more blood on my shoes. “I just need to...I just need to....”
“You just need to what?”
“Rita.”
“Who the fuck is Rita?” Lev glanced around the room.
The restlessness and tension in the room were high. My men were eager, their guns aimlessly moving from head to head. All they needed was a word, just a confirmation, and the whole place would be a chaotic mess.
Not yet.
“Rita....” He wriggled like an earthworm, pleaded, and couldn’t look more miserable than he already did. “My secretary.”
I eyed Lev, and he gave the word to Evgeni to fetch Rita. In seconds, a slender redhead with teary eyes, horn-rimmed glasses, and shaking knees was shoved into the room. She met my gaze, and I watched her hold her breath, like she was holding onto her last bubble of life.
“Your boss owes me some money, and he says you have access to it.” I pointed my gun at the man on the ground. “I want it now.”
“Get to work,” Lev barked, and I could almost see her soul floating out of her body.
Evgeni had one strong grip on her arm while she staggered to the back of the room, opened a hidden safe behind a chess wall painting, and extracted a black bag that hopefully had all of my money and not a cent less.
After Lev carefully confirmed the amount and gave a thumbs up, I removed my shoes from a pale, shock-ridden Martin. My withdrawal didn’t do much; he could barely move.
I signaled Evgeni and told him in Russian, “Get two others to take him away.”
He nodded and immediately sprung to action.
Lev forced the girl on her knees, ordered her to look away, and jacked the bag while I walked away from the crime scene. He followed closely behind me, making sure no one looked up until we were out of the building.
The showdown with Martin Claude was not just about the money. In this city, the maintenance of fear and respect was dire. My reputation was at stake. If I let him go free, we could be perceived as weak. And I’d be damned before I ever let that happen.
The unfortunate bastard was just one out of many others. If anyone dared to fuck around with us, they had to be prepared to face the music.