Chapter 11

Kraven

What in God's name had snapped deep inside of me that had not only allowed but encouraged me to shove my cock into Penny's mouth?

Sure, I knew the answer but that would mean I'd need to admit the woman had gotten under my skin. In truth, she had. Her vulnerability and her reaction and anxiety from being certain I was going to lay a brutal hand on Remington was something that had stuck with me.

Yet, I'd never felt so possessive about anyone. Ever. The need was raw and ripe.

As I stepped into one of three more intimate clubs inside the resort, I could feel a buzz of excitement all around me. Maybe that's because this particular location had recently been renovated, upgraded to serve the needs of my wealthiest customers.

I'd left the sanctity of my suite for a drink, knowing well enough that if I didn't, I'd be unable to resist my lust. A slight growl erupted from my throat and I flexed my fingers. Spanking her had seemed natural, which was ridiculous. Fucking her mouth had been perfection. While I'd engaged in my fair share of sadistic, sexual acts over the years, I'd never spanked a woman for her behavior.

I tried to rid my mind of seeing part of her naked body, my cock still aching from being this close to fucking her pussy as well as her mouth. When I'd left, I'd made certain Misha kept watch on the door. While I'd easily been able to tell after Penny's outburst how exhausted she was, even waiting for a full thirty minutes before I'd left, I had a feeling she would make another stupid move and try to leave.

At some point, I'd need to more fully explain to her the level of danger she was in. Wouldn't that fill in the blanks with all the reasons she should run far away from me? Somehow, I had a feeling it would take a lot more with her.

Hissing as I scanned the perimeter, my thoughts centered on three things.

One: the fact David had been stupid enough to steal from me, something that not only brought my wrath down like an iron fist but resulted in a death warrant being issued.

Two: that Gray Death had made its way into my club of all places. My reputation had been a fact of life in Las Vegas since the day I'd turned eighteen, my father finding a drug dealer just outside an elementary school. Once upon a time, my father had made his fortune doling out party favors to men and women who had more money than common sense.

He'd been considered the king of cocaine, the white powder all he allowed to be served. But in those days, drugs were given out freely like lines of candy along with gold straws commemorating the event. He'd been famous for his lavish parties, those catering to the rich and famous.

Actors.

Musicians.

Politicians.

Corporate moguls.

Everyone who was anyone flocked to my father's resorts for sun, sin, and the finest snort money could buy. My father insisted it remained pure, only cutting it enough to keep from causing heart failure. Everything had been one huge party after another, except after the child of one of the men he'd sold drugs to the night before had a seizure and died because of some garbage a two-bit dealer from the wrong side of town had sold to the kid.

To a child, for fuck's sake.

He'd wanted to be like his father.

That was the day I'd been indoctrinated into my father's savagery, my initiation into violence and control something I'd never forget. I'd been the one responsible for hunting the dealer down, handling the punishment as I'd seen fit. I'd learned how much I enjoyed breaking and taking limbs.

I'd been called the Bone Crusher ever since.

Three and my most important thought of the entire freaking day: Why in the hell had my guest believed I was going to harm her dog? Had I given any indication those were my intentions? Had I treated the dog badly in any way? As I walked through the club, taking mental note of every guest, all watching me, I knew the answer.

Of course not. For all the terrible things I was capable of, harming animals wasn't one of them. I wasn't that sick kid I'd read about, the ones who tortured animals at an early age, growing up to become some crazed serial killer who craved munching on body parts.

Someone about Penny's life had brought her from a tiny town in Virginia to Las Vegas. And working for the Morelli brothers? Her abilities aside, they'd hired her to groom her into becoming a sex slave. I knew it in my gut.

While I'd yet to see her dance, I had a feeling she was talented. What in the fuck had happened to her in her past life to cause what appeared to be PTSD? Maybe I would take my anger out on the Morellis just for the fun of it.

I gave myself another reminder that I needed to handle business first.

My anger was off the charts because of that when it should be because I had a feeling Gray Death was being sold from this club. We'd been open a week. This single location was members only, membership cards checked by one of two men holding court at the door. No one got in or out who wasn't allowed.

Membership was highly sought after, bribe attempts made during its renovation after the news had gotten out about the change in the club's direction. There were no garish slot machines. There were no tables for gambling or locked down rooms for high dollar poker events. In this world, back rooms housed the few who didn't enjoy participating in sex acts in front of people.

There were booths and private venues inside the main body of the club, all with privacy in mind. Even tropical plants were used as screens, allowing for a pretense that the act of fornication couldn't be seen by management or anyone else.

Of course that was bullshit. The location was wired to the hilt with cameras in dozens of locations, the feeds going to two locations, my office and a security room locked down with almost zero access. Were some of the events filmed for potential blackmail use? Well, of course. My father had taught me over the years that there were two ways of handling enemies.

Kill them with kindness and ply them with alcohol, which allowed them to fall into sordid moments of pure sin. Only if and when remaining professional didn't work were what my father had called the big guns brought out.

Times had changed, cleaning up violence taking a toll on everyone. However, I couldn't allow drugs to be sold in any establishment. Gone were the days of hustling for a buck. There was no need. I was a respected businessman after all.

I unfastened my jacket as I headed to the bar, frustrated as fuck after the events of the evening. David would be found. It was only a matter of time. For now, I'd follow my instincts, searching the club until I found the asshole responsible for daring to bring Gray Death into the resort.

Then there was the woman sleeping in my suite.

Christ. Why couldn't I get my mind off her? It wasn't simply because she'd saved my life. My unusual reaction was more about the fact she obviously had no clue who I was. How could anyone work in this town for months and not have a clue? Maybe that's why I wanted to peel away her layers, finding out if she really was so sweet and innocent on the inside. I rolled my index finger under my nose, still able to capture the desire she'd felt during the spanking.

And afterwards.

Seeing her glistening pussy had almost done me in. It had taken far too much control, which I usually didn't need to worry about, not to take her right there on the couch. I wasn't known for being a gentleman but in a town where women flaunted themselves like the ultimate gambling prize, I hadn't needed to. I'd had my choice, often more than one.

And none of them I'd wanted as much as I had a girl caught stealing food. While my father had engaged in numerous affairs over the years, he'd always gone home to my mother, the woman grounding him.

Maybe that's what I needed, someone to settle down with.

Eyes continued to remain on me, women licking their lips and the men appearing slightly uncomfortable. Even the way Penny had acted about women in my life bothered me. Why did her opinion matter to me in the least? Was this all about the fact she'd saved my life? I didn't buy it.

Before I made it to the bar, a drink has already been placed on the surface for me. As soon as I wrapped my fingers around the thick crystal, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"I've missed you," the purring voice said.

Sighing, I remained scanning the club, observing all the activity I could see from where I stood. "Veronica. It's been over between us for months." I wasn't a relationship kind of man, which was why my earlier thoughts should disturb the fuck out of me. Veronica had been a good choice to parade around when necessary, the kind of arm candy any man would want to have. Smart, gorgeous, good in bed. As well versed in politics and the entertainment world as she was in fashion and jewelry. That had allowed my boredom to stay at bay for the few months we'd dated on and off.

"Come now, darling. You're not going to allow the little thing with the ring to get in our way of something special. Are you?"

I finally turned my head toward her. "You purchased yourself a fifteen-carat diamond engagement ring, Veronica, even taking it upon yourself to tell your friends we were getting married."

"That's because I thought that's what you wanted."

When I looked at her, I could easily tell how uncomfortable I'd made her. "Go back to your date, Veronica. I'm certain you're here with a rich client belonging to your father, hoping he'll be the one to pop the question. You shouldn't keep him waiting."

I could be cruel when I needed to be.

She took the opportunity to toss the rest of her drink in my face, her cheeks now flaming red. "How dare you."

As she walked away, the bartender immediately handed me a towel. I watched her trailing away, wondering what I'd seen in the woman in the first place. People rarely tried to make a fool of me in public, including women I'd dated. While I wasn't in the habit of harming women, Veronica's actions would normally warrant tossing her from my club permanently.

Instead, I allowed her to walk away, her hips swaying.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Dima heading in my direction. He was in charge of security in all the resorts, only staying close tonight given the recent grand reopening.

"What is it, Dima? Did you find something out about the man who tried to attack me?"

"No, boss. But it's something you should see."

Sighing, I realized that after all the years spent working almost seven days a week, I'd grown weary and bored. How could I be bored when no two days were the same? Maybe that was the issue. I wanted sameness, the ability to know exactly how every day was going to go instead of constant and unwanted surprises.

With my drink still in my hand, I tossed the towel and trailed after him into the security room.

"I think we found the asshole selling drugs." He nodded to one of six technicians who worked diligently to watch every public room in the resort, checking for crimes or other issues. It always struck me as strange given my brutal reputation that anyone would dare consider committing a crime or accosting a woman when they knew who owned the hotel. Sadly, there were usually at least three incidents a week of sheer stupidity.

And it had nothing to do with the men and women who believed themselves to be card counters. I couldn't care less about their activities, doing nothing more than running them out of the hotel.

When a still shot was brought up from less than fifteen minutes before, my blood might have turned to ice, but fire was already exploding in my core.

"I wanted you to see this since it's a political nightmare."

Dima wasn't prone to dramatics nor was he the kind of man to care about celebrities or other influential people. To us, they were a dime a dozen. But in turn, everyone had a secret. Seeing the young man doling out tiny gray pills as if handing out Tic-Tacs, the half-dressed women he was with giggling before popping the dangerous pills was repulsive enough.

Knowing that the young man was the only son of who some considered the most powerful man in Las Vegas didn't make for a bright spot in my evening. Sheldon Peterson was a wealthy and usually legitimate businessman, owner of several upscale resorts himself, and had managed to win the mayoral election with over eighty percent of the votes.

While Sheldon's campaign had been won on the promise of controlled development and providing more benefits to the needy, he'd yet to come through with a plan. Still, he was a man holding just enough power he could ceremoniously shut down any casino, any business, and any organization without batting an eye.

And the bastard couldn't care less that I carried a huge amount of power myself inside the city. Perhaps that was why Breck had ventured into my club instead of one owned by his father. I'd known there was no love lost between the father and son, as if it was any of my business. The kid had been in and out of jail and rehab more times than I could count.

All because his father hid behind his fancy digs and well-respected reputation while tormenting his own kid. Poor dumb son of a bitch.

"What do you want me to do, boss?" Dima asked, jarring me out of my moment of owning a conscience.

I folded my arms, watching Breck's actions. I could swear it appeared he was under duress. "Have him brought to my office in five minutes. Contact our doctor to have the women looked at. If they aren't staying at the hotel, arrange for a suite where they'll be more comfortable."

"Yes, sir."

I moved toward the back door of the security room, which led to a private corridor leading to my sixth-floor office. The entire floor was used for the corporate business of every resort and the standalone restaurants we owned.

The businesses catering to our less than scrupulous activities, including the diamond trade industry, were handled at a separate location. The employees were entirely different, the level of security much higher at the other facility. For all practical purposes, the men and women who worked here believed me to be nothing more than a consummate businessman with a slightly heavy hand.

Little did they know there was more than one body buried in the concrete underneath the main building. I headed through the bank of glass doors, relishing the quiet. At this time of night, there was no one else on the floor. As I walked into my corner office, the location just high enough to see a good portion of the strip while also allowing me to pay closer attention to the exterior of the building, my thoughts returned to pretty Penny.

Hopefully soon, Konstantin would shed some light on who she was. Or if her story checked out.

I stood in front of the intersecting floor-to-ceiling windows in the corner, staring out at the myriad colorful lights. It wasn't late but I was almost as exhausted as my guest had seemed. I still couldn't get over the fact not one of my soldiers had determined the man approaching Giuseppe's was out of place. It was as if I needed to retrain them. I took another sip of my drink, longing for a cigar.

Given smoking was a terrible habit, I rarely allowed myself to indulge in my favorite Cuban cigars, a gift from Miguel Mario Díaz-Canel y Bermúdez, the first secretary of the Cuban Communist party, the country's most powerful man. That had been during my last trip to the lovely yet impoverished country six months before.

We'd become pseudo friends, enough that he allowed my diamond ships to take port, the men getting some R R while the vessel was gassed up. I pulled out the cutter and my favorite stainless-steel lighter before selecting my favorite cigar. As I snipped the end, I heard commotion outside the door.

As the door was thrown open, Breck did his best to jerk free of the two bouncers, doing nothing more than stumbling over a piece of furniture, falling face first onto the floor.

"Ouch," I said, Dima advancing to light the end of my cigar for me as I watched the man flailing as he attempted to get up from the floor. It would seem he was also drunk, which might help with the interrogation process.

The two soldiers finally helped him up.

"Let the fuck go of me. Do you know who I am?" Breck insisted and I couldn't help but notice he had no intention of looking me in the eye. That was a testament to guilt.

But there was more. I was certain of it.

He'd known there was a chance of getting caught. No risk, no reward. Or was it something else entirely? Maybe he'd been brought in as a warning, knowing my tight security would eventually notice what he was up to.

"Sit him down," I said after inhaling the first puff, holding it in my lungs. Cuban cigars were surprisingly sweet. I blew out a tight ring of smoke, savoring the fragrance as much as the taste.

"Fuck, no," Breck hissed.

The soldiers yanked out a chair, plopping him down with a hard thud. I had to give the man some level of credit. He was dressed impeccably, his suit rivaling mine. I slipped the cutter into my pocket, studying his actions for a full minute before advancing. Only when I'd sat down on the edge of my desk did Breck dare to lift his head, his sheepish look somewhat surprising.

Why did I have a feeling he knew he was way in over his head?

"It would seem we have a problem, Breck, one that I was hoping you could help me with." I remained casual, enjoying watching him squirm.

"I don't have a problem other than your two goons attacked me and brought me up here. What the fuck do you want anyway and stay away from my ladies."

"You mean the three women who are currently having their stomachs pumped as we speak?"

That got his attention. He jerked to the edge of his seat, ready to stand and would have if my soldiers hadn't gripped his shoulders, pushing him back down.

"Wha… What did you say?"

While I loathed drug dealers of any type, this kid wasn't solely responsible for providing drugs, merely thinking of them as party favors. Either that or he was a damn good liar, which could make sense. Some of the best dealers wore suits and ties, not leather and stomping boots. The sophisticated variety were the ones to be worried about.

"The little gray pills you brought in?"

"I'm sorry, man, they were just ecstasy."

"Do you really think I'm that stupid, my friend?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing over at Dima, who stood next to me with his arms crossed. My brigadier enjoying playing the part of bully every so often. After the earlier attempt, we were all in cranky moods. That's why when he made a comment in Russian, I wasn't surprised.

"Otrezat' yemu palets."

Cut off his finger.

The idea had already entered my mind. I took another puff of my cigar, enjoying the smoke billowing in my lungs. I doubted the few cigars were going to be the death of me. My enemies would ultimately find a way. That was the way of our kind.

Breck was already sweating, obviously realizing he'd found himself in a lion's den.

"The pills are called Gray Death. Do you know why?"

"No."

"Because an overdose is quick and quite painful. It includes vomiting and loss of the ability to breathe, even seizures. The lovely women you brought here will feel the effects for a very long time. Where did you get the drugs? I do not want to waste time, Breck, as I am a very busy man."

He swallowed hard, glancing from Dima back to me. "I don't remember."

Sighing, I closed my eyes, slowly lowering my head while my three men chuckled. I rubbed my eyes, trying my best to keep my anger to a minimum. "We're going to try this one more time, only I'll ask the question differently. Maybe that will help."

The kid didn't say anything, just continued to sweat.

"Someone told you to enter my club with drugs in cute little baggies to offer your friends. Yes?"

"No, I just…"

I was already weary of the game. The kid was hiding something, the information vital for me to learn. I pulled out the cutter, handing it to Dima. I'd had enough excitement for the evening at this point.

Maybe I was getting soft. Or perhaps needed time away from Sin City. Maybe Cuba. It was beautiful this time of year. I could take Red Penny with me. We'd stay at my favorite little resort, the location right on the water. I was getting ahead of myself. I had to handle business first.

It took Breck a few seconds longer than what I would consider normal before he realized I didn't need to snip the end of my cigar once again.

The two soldiers also knew how I worked, one of them grabbing the man's hand, the second holding the man's other arm against the chair.

As Dima walked closer, I was surprised how strong Breck was for being slight in size. He bucked and whimpered, almost managing to pull free from his predicament.

Why was it my thoughts drifted back to Penny and how she almost found enough strength to get off my lap? My hand was itching to spank her all over again.

Dima wasted no time, glancing at me only once to see which finger I would prefer.

"Nachni s mizintsa." I also used Russian in a case like this, which often proved scary enough I was told what was required without having the need to go through whatever method of encouraging answers I'd determined.

"What? What did you say? What are you doing? No. No! My father won't like it."

"Ah, your father. Did you know he and I are good buddies?" Which was a fucking lie. I couldn't stand the pompous bastard who'd tried to bring the letter of the law down on me.

"Not possible. Not possible." The kid was shaking violently, ready to sob like a baby when Dima shoved his little finger through the cutting mechanism.

"And why is that?"

"My father hates you. He wants you gone." He was ready to blubber, the fear in his eyes tremendous.

Did Breck really think he was telling me something I didn't know? "Breck, I don't feel the need to rid you of a digit, but I will if you don't tell me what I need to hear. Who provided you with the drugs?"

"I can't. He'll kill me."

I lifted an eyebrow, giving Dima a slight nod. At least we were getting somewhere. When Dima pressed the blade just to Breck's finger, the kid let off a tremendous scream, better than any woman could do.

"Please. Please. Please. Please. Please."

"Begging isn't going to help you, Breck. Information might. Who gave you the drugs and why?"

He continued to blubber, a foamy substance slipping past his lips. I leaned forward, still enjoying my Cuban while the stench of piss filled the air.

"I was told to come. To the club. Your club."

"Go on."

Dima has a steady hand, but he was eager to satisfy some of his anger tonight. I couldn't say I blamed him.

"I don't know. Some guy my dad knew. I wasn't given a choice."

"What guy?"

"I don't know!" Exasperated, I was certain the kid was going to have a nervous breakdown.

"What do you know about him?"

"He had an accent." All of a sudden it was as if a light turned on.

"What kind of accent?"

"Spanish. Heavy. He and my father were drinking."

I glanced at Dima. On top of the troubles I'd been forced to deal with as of late, we'd heard some asshole from South America had made overtures, determined to slide into Vegas. It happened from time to time.

"Have you seen him before?"

"No, but I'm not close with my dad."

Why in God's name would Sheldon use his own son? Nothing made any sense or maybe it was because I was not completely working on all cylinders. "Was the objective to get a bunch of people sick?"

"Nah… No."

"Then what?" I noticed Dima was getting itchy, his breathing labored.

"Leave it so the cops could find it. But the girls wanted a taste. You know how women can be." At least the kid had the common sense to blush out of embarrassment.

I wouldn't be able to make any heads or tails of the ridiculous actions for some time. I stood, snuffing out my cigar in the crystal ashtray before patting him on the shoulder. "I think you and your father need to share in some counseling. Make certain and tell him warning received but I won't play his game."

"I don't understand," Breck whined.

"He'll know what I mean. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a guest upstairs that deserves my attention."

"What about this jerk?" Dima asked.

"Nam nuzhno prepodat' yemu urok, odnovremenno postaviv yego ottsa v izvestnost'. Slomay po odnomu pal'tsu za kazhduyu zhenshchinu, kotoroy on daval narkotiki."

I purposely used Russian because I'd had my share of screeching and blubbering for the night. Maybe for the month.

We need to teach him a lesson while putting his father on notice. Break one finger for each woman he gave the drugs to.

I knew I'd disappointed Dima, but I wasn't interested in starting a war with Sheldon just yet. Not until I knew what I was dealing with.

"What? What are you doing? Please let me go!" Breck wailed.

I moved around the group of men, heading for the door, stopping short before walking out. "Gag him. I don't want any guests disturbed."

Breck would learn to be careful what he passed around.

And my message would be sent to the great politician.

Maybe Sheldon was the one under duress, but no one fucked with me in my city.