Yakov
Vine and Crimson is the kind of bar that caters to off-Strip locals; dim lighting, cheap drinks, pool tables in the back.
It's also where the Albanians recruit. Pretty girls looking for easy money, maybe a little coke to take the edge off.
They get introduced to the wrong people, and suddenly they're in debt.
Or they just disappear.
The sun has fully set by the time I reach the alley behind the bar. Kaiden and two of my guys are already there, watching from across the street.
"Anything?" I ask.
"Not yet. The cars left ten minutes ago. Heading east, toward Henderson."
"What about the girl?"
Kaiden gives me a look. "What girl?"
"Blonde. Jeans and a jacket. She should be arriving any minute."
"Boss, you want us on surveillance or babysitting?"
"Both."
He doesn't argue. He knows better.
A car pulls up to the curb. The back door opens, and she steps out.
Laney Parker.
Even from fifty feet away, I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she scans the street before walking toward the bar's entrance. She's scared but not showing it. Chin up, spine straight, every inch of her screaming I belong here even though she doesn't.
Fuck, she's magnificent.
And she's about to walk into a building that Zajmi's guys use as a base.
I cross the street and slip through the side entrance just as Laney pushes open the bar's front door. The music hits first, something with too much bass and not enough melody. Then the smell: stale beer, sweat, boredom.
Laney heads straight for the bar. I hang back near the pool tables, keeping her in my peripheral vision while I scan the room.
There. Corner booth. Two Albanians I recognize from surveillance photos. They're watching Laney too.
She orders a drink, something soft in a transparent plastic cup, and waits. When the bartender sets it down, she leans in and says something. He shakes his head. She tries again, pulling out her phone, showing him something on the screen. A photo, maybe.
The bartender looks uncomfortable. Says something back. Laney's shoulders drop, just a fraction, but I see it.
One of the Albanians stands up.
My hand goes to the gun at my back.
He crosses the room, casual, like he's just going to the bathroom. But he angles toward Laney instead, sliding into the space next to her at the bar.
I can't hear what he says, but I see her body language shift. She shakes her head, starts to turn away.
He touches her arm.
She jerks back, says something sharp. The Albanian's expression darkens.
The second one is moving now too, coming up on her other side. Pinning her between them.
Laney tries to step away from the bar. The first Albanian blocks her path, says something low that makes her face go white.
That’s the moment the thing inside me decides she's mine.
But I don't move yet. Not here, not with too many witnesses and security cameras. I need to get her outside first.
Laney shoves past the first Albanian, heading for the door. Smart girl. Getting herself out. Both men follow. I count to five, then trail behind them.
The alley behind Vine and Crimson is perfect for what the Albanians do, dark, isolated, far enough from the main street that screams don't carry. By the time I round the corner, they've already backed Laney against the brick wall.
"I told you," she's saying, voice shaking but steady. "I'm just looking for my sister. That's all. I don't want any trouble. I was told to meet someone here, he had information…"
The first Albanian, I recognize him now, one of Zajmi's enforcers named Dardan, pulls a gun from his waistband. "You've been asking too many questions, pretty girl. Zajmi doesn't like questions."
Laney's eyes go wide. "Please—"
"Don't worry." Dardan smiles the kind of smile that makes my trigger finger itch. "We won't kill you. You're too valuable for that. But you're going to wish we had."
The second Albanian reaches for her.
I step out of the shadows.
"Touch her, and you're dead."
Both men spin around. Dardan's gun comes up, pointing at my chest.
"Korolyov." He spits my name like it tastes bitter. "This isn't your business."
"Everything in this city is my business." I keep my hands visible, relaxed. Letting them think they have the advantage. "Especially when it involves girls disappearing from my family's casino."
"She's not from your casino."
"No. But her sister is. And you took her sister."
Dardan's smile widens. "Prove it."
"Now, now Dardan, you know men like us don’t deal in proof."
He pulls the trigger.
I'm already moving sideways, the bullet sparks off brick where my head was a second ago. My own gun is in my hand before he can adjust his aim. I put two rounds in his chest. He slumps to the ground, gurgling.
The second Albanian grabs Laney, using her as a shield, his arm around her throat. She gasps, clawing at his forearm.
"Back off," he snarls at me in Albanian. "Or I’ll snap her neck."
I switch languages. "You kill her, you die. You let her go, maybe you limp out of here."
His eyes narrow. "Bullshit. You'll kill me anyway."
"Probably." I take a step closer. "But at least you'll have a chance to run. Take it."
He's panicking now, I can see it in the way his eyes flick from side to side. His grip on Laney tightens, and she makes a choked sound that sends rage flooding through my veins.
"Last chance," I say softly. "Let. Her. Go."
He doesn't.
I shoot him in the knee.
He screams and goes down, releasing Laney. She stumbles forward, coughing, hands at her throat. I catch her before she falls, one arm around her waist, keeping her upright.
The Albanian is writhing on the ground, clutching his shattered kneecap. I walk over and press my boot to his chest, pinning him.
"Where is Zajmi keeping the girls?"
"Fuck you—"
I shoot his other knee.
His scream echoes off the alley walls. Laney flinches against me, but she doesn't look away. Brave and beautiful. Pride blooms in my chest.
"One more time," I say. "Where are the girls?"
"Henderson," he gasps out. "Warehouse. Off... off Boulder Highway."
"Address."
He gives it to me between sobs.
I nod when his eyes, ravaged with pain, meet mine in defiance. "You shouldn’t have touched her," I say, and put a bullet in his head.
Silence falls over the alley. Just the distant sound of traffic, music from the bar, and Laney's ragged breathing.
I turn to face her. She's staring at the bodies, at the blood spreading across the concrete. Her face is pale, eyes wide with shock.
"Are you hurt?" I ask.
She blinks. Looks up at me. "What?"
"Are you hurt?" I repeat, gentler this time. My hand comes up to her throat, fingers brushing over the red marks where the Albanian grabbed her. "Did he hurt you?"
"I... no. I'm... I'm fine."
She's not fine. She's shaking, adrenaline crash hitting hard. I keep my arm around her waist, holding her steady.
"Who are you?" she whispers.
"Yakov Korolyov." I pull out my phone with my free hand, texting Kaiden. Two bodies in the alley behind Vine and Crimson. Clean it up. "And you're Laney Parker."
"How do you—"
"I know everything that happens in this city. And what I don’t know, I learn fast." I put the phone away and guide her toward the mouth of the alley, away from the corpses. "Including when civilian women start asking questions about my missing cocktail waitresses."
Understanding floods her face. "You own the casino."
"Technically it’s a hotel, but yes. I part own it with my four brothers." We reach the street, and I scan for threats before leading her toward where I parked.
She tries to pull away. "I don't—"
"Your sister was taken by an Albanian gang who like to think they’re a mafia," I interrupt. "The men that just tried to grab you, they're trafficking girls out of Vegas to buyers in Eastern Europe. That's what happened to Laurie."
Her breath catches. "Is she alive?"
"Probably. They need to transport them, clean them up, make sure they're compliant. That takes time."
"How much time?"
"A week or so, I imagine. Maybe less." I unlock the R8 and open the passenger door. "Get in."
"Where are you taking me?" she asks, her eyes dropping to the car like it’s a whole new concept to her.
"Somewhere safe."
Her eyes snap back to me. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer you're getting right now.
" I study her face. The fear warring with determination, the way she's trying so hard not to fall apart.
"You have two choices, Laney. You can come with me, and I'll help you find your sister.
Or you can go back to asking questions, and end up just like her. Missing…or worse."
She stares at me. Those whiskey-gold eyes searching mine for... what? Safety? Trust? She must find something she can work with, because she gets in the car.
I close the door and walk around to the driver's side. Kaiden and his team are already moving into the alley, efficient and quiet. By morning, there'll be no evidence anyone died there tonight, and the coyotes will be well fed.
I slide behind the wheel and start the engine, pulling smoothly onto the road.
"You killed them," she finally says once we reach the Strip. "Just like that."
"They were going to rape you, torture you, and sell you to the highest bidder. So yes. I killed them just like that."
She flinches, but doesn't argue. Just stares out the window at the passing lights.
"Where are you taking me?" she asks quietly.
"My place. You'll stay there until we find your sister."
"I can’t— You can't just—"
I pull over suddenly enough that she gasps. We're on a back street behind the Korolyov Hotel, empty except for the glow of the Strip that bleeds around the building. I turn to face her.
"Listen carefully, Laney," I say, keeping my voice low and even.
"You walked into my city asking questions about missing girls.
You drew attention from people who would happily add you to their collection.
The only reason you're not zip-tied in the back of an Albanian van right now is because I stepped in. "
"Why?" she whispers.
"Because you're mine now." The words land between us, heavy and final.
She stares at me. "I'm not—"
"You are." I reach out and cup her face, the heel of my hand covering the red marks on her throat.
Bruises are forming where that piece of shit touched her.
Rage pulses through me again, hot and possessive.
"From the moment I saw you on my casino's security footage, you became my responsibility.
My problem. Mine. And I protect what's mine. "
"I don't belong to you." She says it like it’s a fact, but the breathless quality of her voice tells me it’s not quite true, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
"Maybe." I let my hand drop. "But you will."
I put the car back in drive and head to the underground parking beneath the hotel. She doesn't argue. Doesn't try to run when I pull into my parking space. Just sits there, hands folded in her lap, breathing too fast.
"I should have called the police," she mutters when I open her door for her.
"I’m guessing you already tried them." People go missing all the time in Las Vegas, most of them turn up hungover and only a little worse for wear a few days later. The police don’t have capacity to search for every drunk tourist that gets reported as missing, and unfortunately, that means legitimately missing people get missed too.
"How can I trust you?"
I lean down, close enough that she can feel my breath on her face. "Because you want to find your sister more than you want to be safe. And you know I'm your best chance."
She swallows. "I’m coming with you."
I blink once, slowly, her words not quite lining up in my brain. "What do you mean?" I ask, because she can’t possibly think I’m going to take her to the address in Henderson. Can she?
"To the place the guy in the alley told you about before you shot him in the head," she says, her sudden spark of attitude sending a warmth through me I’m not used to feeling.
"No," I state as plainly as possible. "It’s dangerous, and you have proven you are reckless with your safety."
"I don’t care," she argues back, her voice measured but doing nothing to disguise her frustration. "I’m not getting out of this car. I’m going with you."