Chapter 2 - Mikhail
The Vegas heat is thick even after dark tonight, making me grateful for the air-conditioned office above the club.
The bass vibrates faintly through the floor, reminding me of the action happening out there. Everything is running smoothly with ample business, and our employees are doing everything they can to upsell.
Even while I run cash through the counter, making sure the numbers are where I want them, my focus isn’t entirely on operations. Not while knowing Maxim is back.
It’s been weeks since we first heard that he slipped out of lockup, as if he had keys all along, and yet we still haven’t found him. He’s somehow been giving us the runaround and driving me nothing short of insane.
I’ve had men out on the streets checking every dank corner and known Nikolaev warehouse for the asshole, yet we’ve come up with nothing. It isn’t like him to be this covert, but it seems we managed to scare him shitless after confronting him.
Somehow, he has become even greasier over time, and knowing he’s out there pisses me off.
I don’t want him to feel like he has won, and I certainly don’t need him reviving his ranks.
Roman knows, of course, but given how he’s enjoying taking care of the rugrat with Vic, I decided to take on the task myself. At least then, he can’t say I never did anything for him.
Even after recruiting help from my brothers—checking lists of Nikolaev associates, reviewing old surveillance footage, and anything else that might help—we still have nothing.
Knowing Maxim, he wouldn’t break out without a plan, and that means he has to be hiding somewhere. And whenever he inevitably resurfaces, I’ll be damned if he tries carving into our territory again.
But, of course, things can’t be straightforward. Not while my head is being pulled in a completely different direction.
I’ve been trying to forget her face and her name, but I can’t.
Lily.
Regardless of the two weeks that passed since we slept together, I can’t forget about her eyes, her body, and all the ways she surrendered to me. The way she looked at me, and had no idea of who or what I was.
She responded to me in ways that were so genuine and primal that I half believed she was made for me and made to be worshipped by me. That innocent look of hers vanished the moment I got her in the back of the vehicle, and even more so once we reached the penthouse.
Regardless of how many women I’ve had before her, nobody has compared, and annoyingly, I don’t think anyone else will.
Even seeing her in my mind makes me want to find her and finish what we started.
It would likely be easy for me to put leads out to find her, but I can’t. I need to get her out of my head so I can focus.
Tracking her down would only make it worse. This way, I’m being responsible, even if it has me feeling strung out.
Besides, she’s innocent and doesn’t need to brush shoulders with my world more than she already has. It’s better for both of us if she stays away and we go back to our normal lives. It’s a painful endeavor after already getting a taste of her, but it’s necessary.
Still, I can’t get over how she vanished before I woke up, leaving no number and no trail.
I only have a name, and despite how badly I don’t want to, I’m clinging to it.
It’s ridiculous, given how I’ve had my fair share of lays, but none of them felt like her, and I can’t stop thinking about her. One night was all it took to haunt me, even weeks later.
My phone lights up and vibrates against the desk, pulling me out of my infuriating thoughts. I jolt and then reach for it, finding Nikolai’s contact on the screen.
Grabbing it, I accept the call and put the phone to my ear.
I don’t even get the chance to say a word before he murmurs, “We have a problem.”
My brows furrow. “Is it Maxim?”
“No, not this time. But it’s still important.”
I sit up in my chair and murmur, “Go on.”
Nikolai lets go of a breath and begins, his tone clipped. “We found a rat. Someone close enough to gain important information to feed the Nikolaevs. He was slick about it and covered his tracks well until he didn’t.”
I clench my jaw, feeling the heat rise in me. “And?”
“We handled it. Tracked him down, took him into an alleyway, and when he wouldn’t talk, it was game over. We made it look like a random attack, but it wasn’t clean.”
My eyes narrow while I focus on nothing in particular. “What do you mean?”
He sighs again. “There was a witness.”
Silence lingers for a beat while I let that sink in, and I stand instinctively. In most situations, that’s the last thing we want. “What happened?”
“We thought the spot was cleared, but the girl came out of nowhere. She tried to call the cops, but I stopped her and took her phone.”
“Did she see everything?” I ask, aimlessly pacing.
“She saw enough, and she knows our name.”
Forcing out a breath, I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a throb in my temples. “Jesus Christ…”
Bodies can be cleared and buried, but a living witness is something completely different. Especially when it’s a woman.
We might be ruthless in our work, but we have a code, and that code involves not harming women or children wherever possible. It sometimes makes situations stickier, but even in our world, a moral compass needs to be established.
Despite the anger coursing through me, I pause my movements and scrub a hand down my face. “Who is she?”
“Not sure. She’s young—a student, maybe. I’m assuming she came from that med school, but I didn’t grab her ID. She’s scared enough, I didn’t want to freak her out more.”
“How thoughtful of you,” I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief. “What did you do with her then?”
“I brought her in. She’s held up in the main warehouse on the East end. I figured you’d want to see for yourself.”
My brows pinch together again. “Why did you figure that?”
There’s a touch of knowing in his tone, fully observing himself of responsibility. “So, you’d be the one to decide what the hell to do with her.”
Idiot.
Forcing out a steadying breath, I reach for my jacket on the back of the chair.
“Sit tight. I’m on my way.”
***
The drive doesn’t take too long, but I spend the whole time mauling over what I’m supposed to do with a hostage witness and how I can possibly let her go without risking her running straight to the authorities.
Most witnesses end up dead one way or another, but that doesn’t mean I want to handle the situation brutally.
Leaving ourselves open for anyone to connect our name to remotely any provable crime is less than ideal, and if we don’t handle it carefully, then I’ll have an even bigger headache.
It’s dark when I reach the warehouse, and the place is mostly quiet, aside from a few guards milling about and the occasional employee coming back from an assignment.
Seeing as this building is one of our main ones, it’s big and open, full of steel catwalks and hanging fluorescent lights. Our offices are up top, while the interrogation rooms are down below. There’s usually lots of activity going on, but tonight, it feels strangely intimate.
My steps on the concrete floor echo with the purpose I walk with, and after heading downstairs, I find Nikolai standing outside one of the rooms. A few other guys linger nearby.
I lift a brow at Nikolai.
“Has the witness lost her mind yet?”
He shakes his head, and despite his usual confidence, he seems almost worried. Almost.
“Not yet, but I’m sure she’ll get there soon enough.”
That seems likely.
“That must mean you’re getting soft,” I murmur, giving him a lighthearted nudge to the side while I slide my black gloves on. “Or are you feeling some type of way about this witness?”
Nikolai scoffs. “If you think I’d let something as sentimental as that stop me from getting a job done, then you must not know me.”
I hum and clap a hand against his shoulder. “I saw you at your most vulnerable in diapers. I’d say I know you pretty well, kid.”
He huffs out a breath, feigning irritation as he swats my hand away. He has always hated being called that. “Whatever you say, old man.”
Grinning, I find myself appreciating the levity despite the tough situation. Even if Nikolai can have a stick up his ass sometimes, I can tell he doesn’t mind it either.
“Watch it. Don’t go picking fights you can’t follow through with.”
“Who said anything about not keeping up? Your age puts you at a disadvantage,” Nikolai says, not afraid to get a jab in from time to time.
I chuckle. “You may be younger than I am, but you’re not exactly twenty-one anymore, either. I’d be careful…you’ll be geriatric just like me soon enough.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” I murmur with a sigh before gesturing to the steel door in front of us. “Let’s get this over with.”
Despite the slight pull of his lips, Nikolai nods, then takes a step forward and grabs the door handle, pulling it open to let me in first.
Getting myself ready for the delicate exchange, I pull in a steadying breath, then head inside.
The silence of the interrogation room hits me first, then I glance up, peering through the fluorescent light, stopping in my tracks.
My eyes widen fractionally, and the recognition hits me so hard that I’m almost breathless.
Sitting in front of me with her hands in cuffs, brown gaze peering at me through circular, gold-rimmed glasses, is the very person I haven’t been able to shake from my mind. Dressed in more relaxed, casual clothes, she looks different from the first time I saw her, but without a doubt, it’s her.
The woman I got so lost in while feeling and tasting her. The one who has been haunting me ever since that night.
Lily.
She’s the witness.