Chapter 9
Dario
We were fucked. Completely and fully.
Selene was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life, even covered in bruises and blood.
She was like a nightmare and a dream wrapped up in a curvy, lean body that made my cock hard as a rock.
We climb into her car—a blacked-out Charger just as hot as she is.
I let out a low whistle. “Damn, sweet cheeks, you got great taste.”
She laughs, breathy and light, a sharp contrast to the manic chuckle she let out earlier when she told that Russian prick he fought like a little bitch.
“I appreciate the compliment, and I’m sure Betty does too.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who the hell is Betty?”
She lets out a full belly laugh, the kind that has tears forming in her silver eyes.
I can’t tell if she’s mocking me or just naturally chaotic.
“Black Betty, ya know?” She scrunches her nose at me and rolls her eyes.
I watch her grab her phone and scroll through it before drums and guitar fill the car, the familiar beat clicking in my head just as the lyrics start.
Then it hits me—she named her black car Betty.
I’ve never had something go so far over my head that I was the one left dumbfounded.
I stare at this woman—this deadly, skilled killer—who names her car after a rock song.
“I have to admit, that was not what I expected.”
She glances at me out of the corner of her eye, a teasing smile curving her lips.
“It’s not my fault that you’re boring, Dario.”
The way my name rolls off her tongue makes my blood pump hot with something I have never felt before.
We pull up beside the guys, and she waves them to follow.
As we drive through Vegas, I notice her breathing is labored, her hands trembling slightly as she grips the wheel.
“You doing okay there, pumpkin?” I ask softly.
“Oh, me? Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little sore.”
I eye her a little longer before nodding and looking back out the window.
“You mentioned that you were staying somewhere else. Why aren’t you at home?”
She lets out a long breath. “It’s a long story that I’m sure we’ll all discuss soon.”
I can tell she’s not in the mood to say more, so I keep quiet.
None of us knew why she was hunting the Russians or why they had plans to keep her alive. She had never gotten her hands dirty in her father’s business before from what we heard so seeing her take down these men was not expected.
Maybe losing him made her snap. Maybe we gave her the idea of who wasn’t welcome in her city.
I’m lost in thought when we pull up to a warehouse on the outskirts of the south side.
“You’re staying in a warehouse?”
She laughs. “Well, it’s what the Gaelic Reapers had available.”
The infamous MC. Everyone assumes they’re just another street gang, but that’s the illusion they want people to believe. At least that’s what Keir said when his cousin said as he was a member.
“That makes sense. Plus, it’s well hidden from whoever you’re hiding from.” I wink at her.
She parks around the back and climbs out, gripping the roof for support when she stumbles.
“You sure you’re okay?”
She rolls her eyes at me, but before she can answer, Keir and Kaz pull up beside us.
“There’s a room inside the warehouse that should fit our needs.”
She looks between us and nods toward the side door, wincing.
Kaz notices immediately and prowls toward her, lifting her into his arms.
“I’m fine. You don’t have to carry me.”
He grunts in response, carrying her inside anyway.
Guess that leaves me and Keir to deal with the big Russian bastard.
We head around the back of the SUV, where the fucker is still knocked out in the back.
Keir pops open the trunk, watching as Kaz carries Selene inside. I can feel his obsession brewing even though he was an asshole to her earlier.
I clap a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get to this interrogation.”
He nods, and we each grab an arm, dragging the Russian inside.
The room is cold. Sterile.
White walls. A drain in the center of the floor. A stainless-steel table, chains dangling from the ceiling. A toolbox sits in the corner—definitely not filled with actual tools.
Kaz sets Selene down on the table and looks her over before stepping away.
“We’ll chain him up, then wake him,” Keir says.
Kaz and I close the steel cuffs around the Russian’s wrists, securing him in place before Keir pulls the chains tight, raising him just enough that his toes barely graze the floor.
“There’s a hose on the wall if you want to use that to wake him.”
We all turn to where Selene is pointing.
I grab it while Kaz turns on the water.
Ice-cold.
I spray the bastard in the face.
He sputters and jerks awake, cursing in Russian.
Keir steps forward, cracking his knuckles.
“You’re going to tell us everything we want to know.”
The Russian spits blood onto the floor. “Fuck you.”
Keir smiles, but there’s no warmth in it. “Wrong answer.”
I walk over to the toolbox, flipping it open. Knives. Pliers. A blowtorch.
I whistle low. “Well, well. Someone knows how to have fun.”
Keir moves to the side of the man, cracking his neck. “Selene, you want to watch or step out?”
She scoffs. “Oh, I’m watching, I have some questions of my own.”
The Russian sneers at her. “Little girl, you think you scare me?”
Selene tilts her head. “I don’t think—I know considering the position you’re in.”
Keir drives his fist into the man’s ribs. The crack echoes through the room.
The he groans but doesn’t speak.
Not yet.
Keir grabs a knife and slides it under one of the man’s fingernails.
The Russian grits his teeth. Sweat beads along his forehead.
Kaz crosses his arms. “We know your people have been trafficking women through Vegas. Bratva’s been real busy taking girls from different states, using major cities as hubs before shipping them off. We want names.”
The Russian exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Keir rips the knife upward. The Russian howls, his body jerking violently.
I grin. “Now, that’s music to my ears.”
Kaz steps forward. “Who’s running the flesh trade?”
The Russian pants, blood dripping onto the floor. He hesitates.
Keir goes for another fingernail.
“Wait!” the Russian chokes out. “It’s… Mikhailov. He’s handling shipments through the docks.”
Keir eases up, Mikhailov was the new enforcer after the old one killed the pakhan and took over.
Selene, who’s been quiet this whole time, finally speaks.
“And my father?”
The Russian lifts his gaze to her, eyes narrowing. He’s weighing his options, debating whether he should push her.
Bad fucking idea.
She steps forward, her voice dark and taunting. “You had no problem dealing death. Don’t think for a second, I won’t do the same.”
I stifle a groan at how sexy and dominating her voice sounds.
The Russian chuckles darkly. “You don’t have the stomach for this, little girl.”
Selene yanks the knife from Keir’s hand. In one swift motion, she buries it in the bastard’s thigh and twists.
He screams.
She leans in, voice low. “Who killed my father?”
Blood pools beneath him.
His breathing shudders.
Then, finally—
“Barbra.”
Selene’s grip tightens around the knife. “With what?”
He wheezes. “Aconitine… slow poisoning… months.”
Selene goes still.
Keir and I exchange a look.
I run a hand down my face. “Son of a bitch.”
It made a lot more sense as to why she was hunting them, to avenge her father.
“Aconitine?” she murmurs, almost to herself.
“It’s found in aconitum, also known as wolfsbane,” I explain. “It’s a neurotoxin. Slow. Systemic. Attacks the nervous system and the heart. Used right, it can mimic a cardiac arrest.”
Selene sways slightly, but her grip on the knife never loosens.
Keir’s expression darkens. “Who gave it to Barbra?”
The man wheezes. “She got it from someone in the Bratva.”
Selene’s eyes flash. “Who?”
The Russian glares at her, then spits at her feet.
Selene removes the knife from his thigh slamming it back in so hard she grunts.
His body seizes.
“Petrov. Everything is done under Petrov’s orders.”
Petrov, not only wanted the Bravata but also wanted to take out The Reaper.