8. Dallas

CHAPTER 8

DALLAS

It’s one of those rare days in Nevada in summer when the sky is spilling water. The rain patters on the windshield, a distorted mirror reflecting the world outside. Shadows of the bridge's overpass stretch over Nicole Khan's face as she stares at me, her hazel eyes narrowed like a hawk zeroing in on its prey. The air in the car is heavy with tension, the silence between us deafening.

"You weren't followed, right?" she says, her voice steely and calm.

I'd expected nothing less from my handler. She's always been one to keep her cool under pressure, though I can see the strain of our situation wearing on her. Her short dark hair is peppered with more gray than I remember, but she still has that unmistakable air of authority about her.

"No. Nobody was tailing me. I made sure," I reply, my own voice low and measured. I clench my right hand into a fist on my lap, out of her sight. I hate feeling this uncertain, this vulnerable. I've grown used to living life on the edge. Been doing it ever since graduated high school. But there's always something confusing—an unknown darkness—whenever I begin a new assignment. This one is no different. Thoreau has been keeping me on my toes.

"Good." Nicole nods, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "We can't afford any slip-ups, Dallas. Not now."

I glance away, staring out the window at the murky water on the ground. "I know."

"Exactly." She leans back into her seat, shoulders relaxing. "Do you have anything?"

"Not yet."

She turns away from me and stares at the wet windshield.

"Look, Nicole," I tell her. "These guys are smart. Smarter than most. Everything is clean. No drugs, no firearms, nothing. And they don’t really invite fresh blood that works at the club into their circle."

"No one’s talking?" Nicole mutters.

"No." I pause. "But I’m working on it. Just give me time. I may have an in." For some reason, I don’t want to tell her that I crossed paths with Thoreau. Three times. To make this work, I need to make sure Thoreau and I are face to face again but he hasn’t been around. Or if he has, I haven’t seen him.

"Listen, Bradley." Nicole’s tone shifts to a low, deadly serious whisper. "These things…they ain’t quick. Agents out there are living double lives for years, yeah? But we have no time to waste on Thoreau and his posse. There's some bad shit happening back east. Trust me, babe, it ain't pretty. And we need for it to stop spreading."

"I’m on it. I'll get it done," I promise, my jaw set tight.

This isn't gonna be a smooth ride and hell if I care–I’ll chase this thing to the world’s bloody end if I have to. That's why I signed up for this gig in the FBI in the first place—not for glory or commendations but to shield those who can't fight from getting burned.

"See that you do." Nicole lets out a weary sigh, her eyes flicking back to me for a moment.

The rain continues to fall in heavy sheets, drowning out the distant hum of traffic somewhere above. The world outside fades into darkness while the car sits just beyond the bridge's shadow in the spot near its support pillars, like a spider waiting to strike.

Nicole breaks the silence. "It's not just about Thoreau anymore. There's a new player in town, and we need to find out what his connection is to the Hellhounds."

"Who?"

"Yuri Solovey," she supplies. "A Russian mobster. He arrived in the U.S. a few months ago through Puerto Rico. We have reason to believe that Solovey and Thoreau are in bed together, so to speak."

"Jesus," I mutter, trying to wrap my head around this new information. "How did he manage to slip into the States?" I’ve heard of Solovey in passing once a few years ago when I was investigating a human trafficking ring out in Florida. But back then he was just one of the names whispered during drunken conversation, someone influential from across the ocean. He wasn’t on our radar back then. All I really know about him is that he’s not the man to mess with.

This mission was already like threading a needle in the dark. Adding another layer of complexity feels like I'm walking through a minefield with no map, every step a risk, every breath a gamble.

"Money talks," Nicole replies. "And Solovey's got plenty of it." There’s a bitter edge to her words. "He's got quite the résumé too. Racketeering, extortion, human trafficking, weapons smuggling... He's suspected of ordering numerous hits on rival mobsters, politicians, and other public figures who happened to be in his way. The list goes on and on. Naturally, he’s moving his operation across the ocean… Here."

I fucking hate when the Russians come into play. Outwitting them is like playing chess blindfolded. And if Solovey has partnered up with Thoreau, it will require a great deal of effort and resorting to tactics I'd rather not use in order to gather evidence.

"Is Solovey in Vegas?" I ask, mentally preparing myself for the new task.

"He's been laying low since his arrival. Holed up somewhere in New York, building connections and expanding influence. But word on the street, he’s going to be making a move to Nevada in the next few weeks."

Nicole retrieves a file folder from the driver's door pocket and hands it to me. I flip it open and carefully scan what looks like a haphazard gallery of surveillance shots, spilling into my vision.

The man in the photos is just your average Joe, an unremarkable bruiser with stony features and a receding hairline.

With meticulous attention, I rifle through every image, memorizing the new target, the way his brick face crumbles just slightly when he smiles in some shots—a smirk more like... Brute-like? Perhaps, but there’s something undeniably dangerous about him that has me questioning my own skills.

"Find out what Solovey’s connection is with Thoreau," Nicole says, collecting the folder shortly after.

"You got it."

"Stay sharp and watch your back, Bradley," she calls as I climb out of the car.

I give her a tight nod before disappearing into the rainy darkness, my mind focused on the task ahead.

Delve deeper into the treacherous waters of deceit and corruption that lie beneath this city's glittering veneer.

Get close to Thoreau.

Get intel on Solovey.

Bring their operation down once and for all.