Chapter 8
8
J AMES
“James?”
“Hey, baby,” I say, crashing into a chair in my hotel room.
Silently, I scoop out a cigarette and slide it between my lips. The flame licks the tip as I keep the lighter close to it.
“Where are you?”
“London,” I say, tearing my cigarette away from my lips. “With business,” I add before taking a drag.
“How are things?” Rain asks.
“Busy. Crazy. I can’t wait to be done and go back to Monte Carlo. How are things over there?”
She sighs at the other end of the phone line.
“It’s been busy here too. I’ve spent some time with Thea, and the more I talk to her, the better I understand why Ed has fallen for her. I think she’s going to be a great mom. And he is completely smitten with her.”
She keeps talking, her words becoming a distant hum as I shift my focus to the events of the last twenty-four hours.
Mechanically, I bring my cigarette to my lips.
A few moments pass, and I don’t even realize she’s gone quiet.
“James...?”
Her voice jolts me back to reality.
“Yes?”
“Do you have any idea?”
“What?”
“When can I fly to Monaco? I want to plan my trip.”
“I’ll know by the end of the week,” I say, tense.
A few seconds go by.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You sound... I don’t know. Preoccupied?”
“It’s been a long day. That’s all,” I say just as a call flashes across my phone screen.
It’s a local phone number.
“I gotta go, baby. I’ll call you in the morning. Morning over there,” I clarify before hanging up.
I answer the call.
“Yes?”
I hear a few broken words and then a clear voice speaking.
“The meeting is at the Cabana Club. Eight o’clock. Tonight.”
The line goes dead.
I glance at the time on my phone. That’s a little over half an hour from now.
I jump out of my seat, put out my cigarette, and call Thomas on my way out.
The car is in front of the hotel, waiting for me.
I climb in, and before long, Thomas swerves our ride and pulls up in front of a flashy establishment with a sizable crowd waiting outside to get in.
The doors slide open, and just as many people seem to be crammed inside.
I check my phone again while Thomas turns off the ignition.
Without a word, we walk out and approach the entrance.
Oleg catches sight of us from behind the bouncers and barks a few words to those staring at us.
They step aside as we walk in.
“This way,” Oleg says, turning toward the main room.
The noise subsides as we climb the stairs to the upper level.
The man pushes a door open, and we walk into a dimly lit room furnished with a leather couch, matching armchairs, and a wall–to–wall bar.
A few men are waiting for us, standing. Two have their backs propped casually against the bar.
The other two are stiff, and their expressions are frosted.
Oleg slides his hand to my chest.
“Wait,” he says abruptly. “Do you have any guns?”
“Don’t they have guns?” I ask, tossing his hand away and motioning to the men in front of us.
“Let them in,” one of the men at the bar orders.
I step in with Thomas right behind me.
The man talking a moment ago pushes off the bar and steps into a cone of light.
He’s not what I expected.
Younger than I thought, he has raven hair, dark eyes, and a fair complexion.
His features are masculine and rough looking.
His eyes slice through me.
“Who’re you?”
“The man you want to cut a business deal with,” I say, walking into the shaft of light as well.
Surprise tumbles over his face as he gets a glimpse of my features.
“No fucking way,” he says, swinging his eyes to the other man propped against the bar, an incredulous smile tilting his lips.
The second man straightens and walks closer to me too.
He resembles the first man, and his frame is just as athletic. As he pulls closer, I notice his pale blue eyes.
He flickers them over my face, a smile growing on his lips.
“I’ll be damned... Do you fight as well?”
“Only if I need to,” I say.
He shows me to the seats, and I slide into one of the armchairs.
They sit across from me while the bodyguards remain standing. Oleg moves to the bar.
We trade looks, the men in front of me studying me as much as I study them.
“I want to buy Tiago Rossi from you,” I say without the slightest introduction.
Their eyebrows slide up at the same time.
“What are you talking about?”
I study their faces.
“I want him to work for me.”
They stare at me for a second before chuckling, entertained.
I look at them, unfazed.
“What makes you think he’s up for sale?” the dark-eyed man asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
Holding his gaze, I slink my hand inside my pocket and retrieve a cigarette.
Every warm body in the room jerks with apprehension.
I flick the cigarette up so they can see it and slide it between my lips.
“Let me ask you something... Aleksander,” I say around my cigarette as I light it. “Do you like money?”
I put my lighter into my pocket and lean back in my seat.
My head tilts back a little as I take a drag and look at the dark-haired man.
“I’d say you do,” I mutter, the smoke streaming through my nostrils.
I motion around the room with the hand clutching my cigarette.
“I run one of those,” I say, referring to their club. “It’s good business if you know how to set it up. The money you can make with one of these is many times over what you make off someone like Tiago Rossi.”
I take a slow drag, my eyes on them.
“I’m here to offer you a good deal. Right now, all you have is a missing man. You have no idea where he is.”
“We know where he is,” the blue-eyed man says.
A slow smile tugs at my lips.
“Then why don’t you go there and get him?”
His expression hardens.
“Let me tell you why...” I say after a moment. “You have no influence where he is, and you might get yourself into a war with the Russians if you try to claim him. That’s why you don’t make a damn move, only sniffing around, hoping he’ll come back and you’ll get a lead on where the money is. So right now, you can’t get the money, and you can’t get him. And here I am, offering you good money for something you no longer own. That is stupid money if you ask me.”
They stay silent for a few seconds before the dark-haired man speaks.
“What do you get out of this?”
“Him.”
They look at each other before Aleksander utters words again.
“We can’t do it.”
“You don’t want half a million dollars in cash for a fugitive?”
“We’ll get him back.”
“If you plan on luring him back by using that woman, you’re stupider than you look.”
The brothers’ bodies tense, their bodyguards taking a step forward. Thomas makes a move forward too.
I slide my gaze up while Aleksander flicks his hand, calming everybody down.
“But you probably don’t,” I say, calm and composed, my gaze gyrating back to them. “Or you would’ve done it already. The man isn’t that easy to pursue. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”
“It wouldn’t look good for our business if we let him get away with it and would encourage other fighters to do the same,” Sevan says.
“Who’s gonna tell them?”
They think about it for a moment.
“If we do it, he can’t fight here again. He can’t come back.”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know? You just admitted he’s not easy to control.”
“I have my methods,” I say, putting the cigarette out in the ashtray on the table.
I rise, my move taking them by surprise.
They look up for a second before pushing out of their chairs.
“It was nice doing business with you. You’ll have the cash within twenty-four hours. Once you take possession of the money, you can no longer claim him and stay away from him or anyone connected to him.”
“And if we don’t?” Sevan asks.
“Your business gets audited again unless you want to pay your fair share on the cash you collect.”
They look at each other briefly before chuckling like it was a good joke.
“I thought so,” I say, moving away from them.
“What happens if you don’t get him?” Aleksander asks as I near the door. “The money is non-refundable.”
“Let me worry about that,” I say before Thomas and I vanish out the door.