Chapter 19

JASPER

M ax and I reached the Petrov brothers' casino at ten-fifteen. We were welcomed by a tall, slender girl with red hair and curious eyes, who gave me a hungry once-over.

She was dressed in her uniform, consisting of a black pencil skirt and a white button-down shirt with a collar, that fit tightly against her chest forcing her buttons to splay open at the top.

I could see the lace outline of her bra, where she spilled from the top. Her name tag said ‘Sassy'. I looked past her towards the office area, searching for our clients, but noticed through the window that the lights were off. I made eye contact with the young woman, for direction. Her eyes were fixed on my crotch as she licked her lips. I cleared my throat, and her attention immediately shifted back to my face.

"Are they in? We have a ten-thirty appointment." My tone was thick with irritation. She gave me a flirty smile, tilting her head while running her hand over my suit jacket, brushing imaginary lint from my shoulder.

"The two of them are downstairs, handling an issue, they will be back shortly." She guided us toward the office. She offered us a beverage, her gaze never leaving me. Things started to get uncomfortable, Max cleared his throat and requested a glass of water.

"Yes, of course, sir." She quickly glanced in his direction, bringing her eyes back to me before leaving the room, and pulling the door shut behind her, taking care to give me a full view of her ass on the way out.

"What the hell was that?" I said brushing off my jacket in the spot she had her hands. Max laughed hysterically at my disgust.

"Man, if you don't want it, I'll take it," he taunted.

"I'm not sure you could. She was a stage four clinger. She didn't seem that interested in what you have to offer." I retorted.

The office we were waiting in was just as you would expect, a large room that seemed small with both Max and I sitting in it given our size. Max was 6'2, 210 pounds with huge forearms that threatened to rip through his coat. I'm tall, 6'4". I weigh around 220 pounds, with a good amount of muscle. Our appearance may not fit the typical lawyer stereotype, but our reputation confirms that we are the best in the field.

It didn't take long for Ms. Lusty pants to come back, handing Max a bottle of water. With a broad smile, he reached for the bottle, deliberately brushing her hand with his, drawing her attention away from me and towards himself.

Thank God.

"Thank you, pretty lady," he said flirtatiously. Her face turned a shade of pink just lighter than the red lipstick she was wearing as she let out a pitiful giggle. "Yes, sir." she choked out.

"Mmm, I like how you say that… s ir ." he purred the last word drawing it out for no reason other than to mess with her. She bit her bottom lip and let out an almost inaudible groan before opening the door to leave but instead of walking out the door, she ran face-first into the chest of one of the two burly tattooed men in suits that were standing on the other side.

"I'm sorry sir." She whimpered; her gaze fixed on the floor. He grunted in her direction, prompting her to rush out of the way, which she did.

The man showed his disapproval with one glance at the woman, saying everything that needed to be said, with one look.

"Ah, Mr. Whitlock, Max! Good to see you," his loud voice vibrated from the walls in a thick accent.

He walked over with his hand extended. I rose and met him halfway. He was a large muscular bald man, with dark brown eyes, and an eyebrow piercing over his left eye. His neck was tattooed with wings that covered the length of his throat. He wore a designer suit with a white shirt beneath it, which I couldn't help but notice had red speckles on its cuff. His knuckles were covered in gashes, that were open and swollen, more than likely a fresh wound.

The guy who came in after him was built pretty much the same and had his hair, which was a bit longer, slicked to the side with way too much hair gel. He had stars tattooed over his right eye. His knuckles were covered in a tribal tattoo, with the word ‘MOM'. His face was familiar, but it didn't belong to the two men we previously met with at the restaurant weeks ago.

"I'm sorry. there must be a mistake we are here to meet the Petrov brothers." I stated, confused at the two new faces.

The gentlemen looked towards each other with smirks on their faces.

"Ah yes, Mr. Whitlock you met with our cousins," he said with a chuckle, I glanced at the man behind him again, as he nodded in agreement.

"I'm Malice Petrov and this," he throws his thumb towards the man standing behind him.

"This is Havoc Petrov," he introduced. Havoc nodded in my direction without uttering a word. Meanwhile, Malice cleared his throat.

"You can never be too careful, you understand," he said with another nod in Max's direction. The two of them share another look, obviously communicating with each other. I looked back at Max, unsure of what had just occurred, I was determined to figure it out.

"Okay, gentlemen what can we do for you?" I asked trying to get this meet and greet over with and down to business. Malice, who was clearly in charge, walked back to the door they originally walked through and gestured for us to follow. Havoc stood back allowing space for Max and me, as we followed Malice toward the back of the casino.

We walked past two tall well-dressed men with earpieces. Both were sizing us up with an intense stare. Malice used a key card to gain entrance through the double doors.

Walking through, the decor changed drastically. Instead of the vibrant bright ambiance of the casino, it was dark wood furniture and black marble flooring with deep burgundy walls. In the background, I could hear a faint noise of grunts and groans.

We walked down a long-curved hallway into a room with an open floor plan, it looked like some sports arena. In the center, was a caged fighting ring. We walked past two large shirtless men battling it out. I could see that neither was going in full force over the other.

Walking even further I saw something that made my stomach turn. A man standing at a back door that was propped open had a young girl held by the elbow as he stood over her sternly speaking down to her in another language. I realized it was Russian as we approached close enough to hear.

My dad dealt with a lot of Russian Mafia affiliates when I was younger. I never learned the language fully, but I can recognize certain words.

"Stai zitta Stronza" He yelled into her tear-streaked face as we walked past them.

Havoc, closely trailing behind Max, cleared his throat with a loud, deliberate cough.

"See something you like?" he asked with a menacing grin. I ignored his antics and kept following Malice.

Finally, after passing through two more sets of guarded doors. We approached another room much smaller than the first.

That room was decorated less dramatically. Instead of concrete floors there was carpet and instead of a caged ring there was a large oval stage with a pole that reached the length from the ceiling to the floor positioned in the middle of it.

There wasn't a question of what this room was used for. That was obvious once I took in the scene around me. The room featured several smaller stages in its corners, each surrounded by more intimate settings. There were chairs stationed all around each stage, like a strip club. What was odd, was the long chains bolted to the floor of each stage that looked to have a shackle cuff at the end of it, and the computer monitors in the front of each seat that housed a numbered paddle. I observed Max notice the chains. It was clear that this was news to him.

I'm going to kill Max when we leave here.

"Have a seat gentleman," Malice gestured, as we approached a circular bar.

"Can I get you a drink?" he offered with a grin and a proud look in his eye.

"It's a bit early for me my friend," I declined with a nod. Max nodded in agreement.

"Suit yourselves," Malice said with a flick of his wrist towards the man behind the bar. As if some silent language was spoken, the man walked out of another set of doors opposite the ones we came through.

Havoc walked over to his brother beside him, wearing that familiar smug expression. They gave off unsettling vibes.

"What can we do for you? " I asked once again.

"Well, I'm glad you asked," Malice started,

"Seems you and I have a common acquaintance," he said staring into my eyes like he was searching for something he wouldn't find.

"Well, I guess I can say, we had a common acquaintance." he corrected, emphasizing the word had.

I rolled my eyes as it hit me to whom he was referring.

"If you and my father had dealings, that's none of my concern. If you are seeking anything other than legal advice or legal representation you came to the wrong firm." Malice turned to Havoc as they exchanged yet another look. Havoc remained silent; his gaze fixed on me attempting to intimidate me. I met his stare without flinching.

Malice began to chuckle to himself, and shortly after Havoc joined in. Havoc extended his arms across the bar, leaning forward, in a gesture of frustration.

"Chester said you were a tightwad. When you inherited all your father's estate and businesses, I hoped I could persuade you otherwise. You know there is a lot of money to be made, and your father and I had an agreement that I hope you would honor."

"I see. What type of agreement was that?" With pursed lips and narrowed eyes, I waited for the specifics of this agreement.

Even from the grave, my piece of shit father had managed to drag me into his bullshit.

"Take a look around, you're a smart man. I'm sure you can figure out what type of business I run around here, much like the ones I run from your father's casinos, or I guess your casinos now" He gestured, hands waving to the sides to showcase the room, his demeanor full of satisfaction.

"Just before Mickey died, we were in the process of buying out his estate," he stated matter-of-factually

"I hoped you and I could reach some sort of agreement."

"What sort of agreement was that?" I asked, knowing what this meeting was all about.

It was no secret who my father was as a businessman, but if these men think they would try to strong-arm me into handing over what's rightfully mine they have another thing coming.

"Mickey had a run-in with my family years ago. He did something unforgivable. He should have paid for it with his life, but instead, we decided to allow him to pay out his debt in services. One being, that we ran our illegitimate businesses out of the basement in the basements of all his establishments. With some persuasion, he was ready to sign over all the deeds to those properties to myself and my brother. Debt paid in full." Malice finished, shifting his eyes to his brother with a nod.

Havoc pulled a set of paperwork from his back pocket and slid it in my direction. I reached out and opened the packet quickly reading it. I let out a short humorless snort

"So, let me get this straight, you want me to sign over all the properties my father owned, to repay a debt he owed you? Is that right?" Malice looked at Havoc before grunting and giving me a single nod in answer.

"Okay, except there is a flaw in your plan," I announced still looking down at the paperwork. I looked up to meet Malice's confused glare.

"I'm not Mickey, and I don't owe you a fucking damn thing." Malice's lips twisted into the beginnings of a smirk as Havoc rose swiftly, sending his chair skidding backward—a poor excuse for an intimidation tactic. I glanced at Max and gave a subtle nod, signaling him to take my lead.

"Now if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I've got work to get to. I have some tenants I need to evict from my newly inherited buildings." I buttoned my blazer, looked at my watch, and met Malice's burning glare. "I'd suggest you guys start looking for new locations for your illegal operations."

Max and I make our way toward the door marked ‘Exit'. I paused just before I walked out of it, turning to face the two of them. Havoc stood and Malice was seated, staring in our direction.

"Oh, and if you please, disregard the current signed contracts, my firm will no longer do business with the Petrov family." I winked and straightened my tie then turned walking to the door.

* * *

Max remained silent until we reached his car, where I slid into the passenger seat. Max turned the key, and the engine of his Ferrari hummed to life. Before merging onto the roadway, Max turned to look at me. "I hope you know what you're doing," he said. I laugh out loud throwing my head back.

"Don't underestimate me, brother."

* * *

Once we were back in the office, Max began processing the information I had requested earlier in the morning, as I delved into investigating my father's interactions with the Petrov brothers.

I had no doubt he in was deep with them. Hell, he stayed buried in shit with other crime families, while trying to establish his own, but the idea of him signing away all his assets seemed too drastic.

Despite my disdain for my father, I couldn't imagine him yielding to intimidation, regardless of the reason. There must have been more to this story, and I intended to uncover it.