Chapter 3

"Tell me every terrible thing you ever did and let me love you anyway."

—Edgar Allan Poe

Kraven

What the hell?

Fuck.

It was as if I'd just been swept into some kind of crazy dream, the woman's beauty catching me completely off guard as she was led inside the restaurant, the hostess giving her a table by the front windows.

The moment our eyes had connected, I'd felt such a heightened sense of longing, my hands had gotten clammy. Something about her mere existence on this planet boosted the darkest kind of desires a man could have.

Ones of power.

Ones of unbridled hunger.

And more important, ones of possession.

It had been over a decade since I'd felt anything this strong. I smirked at the thought, tossing back a gulp of my drink.

"Don't look now, boss, but she might eat you for dinner," one of my guards said as he laughed.

At least his indecency brought me back to the business at hand. "Just get on with it. I have other work to do tonight." Not that I'd be sleeping. I was basically an insomniac. Some would say it was my conscience prodding me, only I knew I didn't have one.

I also needed to figure out if my employee's act of treachery had been entirely his own or if he'd been working with someone.

"The theft at the resort is one thing but the fuckers are at it again," Konstantin Morozov said from beside me. As my most trusted soldier, a man who'd been my advisor for years, I usually listened to what he had to say. However, there were times his promotion to counselor had obviously gone to his head. He'd become more arrogant than ever.

"What are we talking about here?" Dima snarled, although he was grinning. He was my brigadier, the man in charge of my mighty army. He was also more of a playboy than I was.

In a town like Las Vegas, you couldn't throw a penny without finding a mafia man on some street corner, the fucker acting as if he owned the world. I'd been brought here as a pre-pubescent teenager, my father claiming the Bratva position when no other Russian entity had managed to do so. At the time, there'd been one other major player in town, a couple of smaller syndicates crowding territories. Now every single massive resort and casino had some organized crime syndicate attached to it.

One of my highest-ranking warriors burst out laughing, cursing in Russian as he threw back a shot glass of vodka. Misha drank the clear shit like water, where I could barely stand the taste. How many jokes had I endured over the years, bottles of Russian vodka sent to me as potential bribes? Enough that the entire population of Sin City could toast to people's stupidity.

"Shitheads bringing illegal drugs into the new club." Konstantin threw me a look.

It wasn't unusual in a city where every sin was embraced. While not a significant part of my business any longer, I also catered to the rich and famous with party favors for a hefty price. But not inside a single resort or club.

"Track down who is responsible," I said, still finding it very difficult to take my eyes off the lovely girl. She was quite a few years younger, but there was something worldly about her. Or maybe I sensed she was going through rough times. I could smell her fear from where I was sitting.

My men rambled on in Russian, comparing the various enemies we had. As usual, we had a situation at one of the casinos, although this time the crime was more egregious. A guy little more than a kid who'd worked for me for over two years had managed to get inside the very secure money vault, clipping two hundred thousand in cash and getting away with it. Well, almost. The poor dumb fuck hadn't anticipated one camera in particular. It was the only one that had shown his face.

What Konstantin had brought to my attention was that some bearer bonds were missing as well from an earlier heist. With some other anomalies, it would appear the kid wasn't working for himself but told to evoke my wrath. The question was simply why at this point?

And of course whom.

I sat back in my seat, my gaze still captured by the young woman, my curiosity piqued as to how she'd found the place, given it was off the beaten path, only the aging locals bothering to slide inside for slice of pizza or to use the location as a meeting ground. I couldn't remember the last time a beautiful woman had walked inside.

I owned Giuseppe's, a purchase made after a buddy had almost defaulted on the crooked loan he'd signed. Why he hadn't come to me in the first place I'd never know, but I'd taught the shark who'd provided the forty percent piece of junk with an escalation clause a lesson I doubted he'd forgotten.

Although Tony still worked as manager, paid very well considering the shitty money the place made, he was free to indulge in his passions without the hassle of ownership. Meanwhile, the location was perfect to handle both internal and external business.

While I hadn't been to the place in almost two months, I knew every regular as well as the usual crowd that meandered inside. Maybe that was why the stunning redhead caught my eye the second she'd walked in. While she was dressed casually in jeans and a simple emerald green top, there was something about her that called to me more than just her fiery hair.

She had an attitude that wasn't about arrogance but the kind of confidence few women had, at least in this town. While it was easy to pick out the tourists, the bread and butter of my legitimate businesses, I considered the showgirls and powerhouse women fluffy arm pieces.

In my mind she also looked vulnerable. This wasn't the best part of town to be in, which was another reason the location suited my world and certain business activities.

However, this girl looked like she could wrangle a bear if she wanted, even if she wasn't particularly tall or muscular. I found it fascinating that my cock was already throbbing just from the sight of her. That just didn't happen to me. Women were beautiful objects, something I had indulged in many a time, but I never mixed business with pleasure and right now, the strategy meeting should be all I had on my mind.

"Yeah, it's bad, boss. Three overdoses in two weeks," Konstantin said under his breath, ensuring no one else heard us. We had a special round table meant to seat six, a prime position in the restaurant allowing us to see out the glass front and anyone who came inside either by the front door or through the service entrance. It was also far removed from other customer tables. However, the DEA, the ATF, the FBI, and the local police were always on the hunt, their technology getting more and more sophisticated. That included the use of specialty long distance listening devices. That's why we swept every club, and every public room in our resorts, houses, and corporate offices on a regular basis.

"That doesn't bode well for maintaining a low profile," Dima growled.

I took a deep breath. "No, it doesn't. What illegal substance are we talking about?"

Konstantin glanced in my direction, clearly anxious about what drug had been used. He picked up his drink before answering. "Gray Death."

What the fuck? As the name implied, the ashy gray substance went straight to the brain through the tissues of the body without being metabolized. Made of heroin, U4 or Pink as it was called on the streets, and fentanyl, either one was deadly enough alone. Together the substance was lethal. And it was something I did not want inside my resorts or casinos.

"How much?" I snarled, fisting my hand around my drink.

"Personal usage volume at this point but it was handed out like candy to unsuspecting tourists, for fuck's sake."

I didn't like Konstantin's answer. Some people came here to let go of all their inhibitions. They didn't need to die because of their stupidity.

"Who is suspected to be bringing it in?" My demand was met with sheepish looks on all their faces.

"We don't know," Misha said after clearing his throat.

I dealt in party favors to a select few only, a leftover business activity started by my father. He had reliable sources both in South America and Mexico that I continued to use. It was good shit, every shipment tested for quality and distributed to responsible people who could pay the price to play. What I didn't allow was for coke to be sold on the street or for any of my people to consume a single line. That meant instant termination.

For someone to be bringing Gray Death into my world meant they were purposely defying my rules.

"Find out the source. That is your number one priority. The little shithead who stole from me comes second." A couple hundred thousand dollars in my world was a drop in the bucket. Being in the crosshairs of the local law enforcement could cost millions. That couldn't be allowed.

"You got it, Pakhan," Misha said.

I gritted my teeth when the kid used the term. I'd done my best to move away from the old ways including the need for savage brutality, but as of late, it was becoming more and more difficult.

They returned to their conversation while I returned my gaze toward the woman once again. She appeared even more nervous than when she'd walked in, constantly staring out the window as she munched on a breadstick. Was she in some kind of trouble? I was more than curious, which also wasn't like me. But people usually had a reason for doing things. Including the choice of restaurant where they dined.

Dima followed my line of sight, huffing under his breath. "You with us, oh great Pakhan?"

I slowly turned my head, glaring at him. My father had been the Pakhan until he'd been murdered in cold blood alongside my mother, leaving my much younger brother under my wing. I hated the title, even though I'd accepted the role, taking over the man's empire in its entirety. I'd built and strengthened it, adding millions to the accounts while keeping a firm hold over the city even with the other syndicates coming into my home in droves.

While most were happy with the profits they'd achieved, our unwritten rules of conduct followed without incident, there were always a few who poked the bear for fun.

"Tell me the details again," I instructed.

Dima groaned. We'd gone over the situation three full times, but each time I'd learned a little more. Each man gave his take on what he'd seen or heard, including a play by play of how David had managed to get into the locked room where the vault was located, let alone the wired to the hilt vault itself.

I was only half listening because of constantly glancing in her direction. Goddamn it, I was attracted to her. And I couldn't help but notice she was giving me a few subtle looks from time to time, still gobbling her food while doing so.

"Do we have any concrete evidence the kid was working for anyone?" I asked.

"You mean other than large sums of money deposited into his bank account starting four months ago?" Konstantin asked in his usual snarky way.

"Why would a smart kid be that stupid not to open up another bank account that wasn't attached to his earnings from the casino?" Misha asked the question that had been rolling around in the back of my mind.

"Valid question," I muttered and took a sip of my whiskey, curious as to what the girl had ordered. She was already gobbling up the free breadsticks, dousing them with water. She appeared as if she was starving, eating way too fast.

"Kids are stupid and arrogant," Konstantin suggested.

"True, but this kid was also no stranger to breaking into a vault. Someone trained him." Dima's words were also very true.

"We need to find him so I can have a lengthy discussion with the brat." I rapped my fingers on the table, furious that the kid been able to disappear within minutes of being seen on tape. My men had raced after him, but he'd fled the scene as if a ghost.

That meant someone had been his accomplice.

I had a bad feeling his actions had been for an entirely different reason than simple theft.

"We're trying, boss," Misha hissed.

"I have our best trackers out. He won't be able to take a shit soon enough without us hearing about it." Dima laughed, lifting his glass to the waitress as she walked in our direction, twisting his finger to indicate another round.

Konstantin munched on his calzone, tomato sauce dripping down his chin. I shook my head when I noticed, hating messy eaters. I always had. It was one of many quirks that I'd been labeled with over the years.

That was in addition to the fact I enjoyed violence more than most men. So what? I was damn good at what I did. Now some would call me soft, which was likely why the kid had made the hit in the first place. It would seem I'd need to make an example of him.

Sighing, I couldn't help but notice the girl had ordered a large pizza and at least one other order. She wasn't just hungry. She was famished. I did love a girl who could eat, not some stick-thin chick who refused anything but a salad. Who wanted a bird in their bed?

I couldn't seem to take my eyes off her or the way she was chowing down. In my experience, girls who ate so fast had issues in their lives, including possibly running from someone. I certainly didn't need to get involved with any messy situation but if there was one thing I couldn't tolerate it was brutality against a woman.

"You with us, boss?" Konstantin asked at least four minutes later.

The waitress blocked my view of the girl as she brought another round of drinks. She'd been flirting with me since we walked in and she was pretty but I would adhere to my rule of not mixing business with pleasure.

No matter how enjoyable the experience might be.

"I'm here. We need to find David and find out who he's working for. Once we do, we'll remind the other players in town that we control. Period." I took a swig of my new drink, realizing that I might need to find out from another connection about any gossip on the street. I had a feeling whoever was behind the theft was just beginning an attempt to destroy my regime. That didn't sit well with me.

"Agreed," Konstantin said through clenched teeth.

I rose from the table. "I need to make a phone call. I'll be right back." I took long strides through the small restaurant toward Tony's small office, stopping long enough to admire the beautiful woman. She'd eaten a significant portion of the food she'd ordered, the waiter already bringing to-go boxes.

As I headed into the office, I immediately pulled out my phone, dialing an old buddy of mine.

"Kraven, my man," he answered on the second ring. "Long time no hear from."

"Yeah, I know. I wish I could say this was a social call, although you should make a trip to Sin City every once in a while."

Zach chuckled. "I've been as busy as you have. What can I do for you?"

"I need to find out what you heard on the streets in Reno about new blood coming into Vegas."

"Sure, that's an easy request. What's up?"

"I have a feeling someone thinks they can overthrow my regime."

He laughed heartedly. "I guess they'll soon learn facing your wrath isn't in their best interest."

Now I laughed with him. "Maybe it's long overdue I provide a reason why not to fucking cross me."

"We all need to do that from time to time. How's business otherwise?"

"Damn good. Too good. However, there's a little issue with Gray Death as well. I can't have that."

"Shit, man. That crap is bad news," he said after whistling.

"Tell me something I don't know. Any runs in your area?"

"Can't say I've seen it yet. But I have heard it's picking up in popularity in places like Russia and Cuba."

"Interesting. See if you hear anything." I rubbed my eyes. Sometimes the business was taxing as fuck.

"How's Vissarian?"

I snorted thinking about my kid brother. I was eighteen years older, the nineteen-year-old acting as if he was top of the world when he was nothing but a troublemaker at this point. While considered an adult, his issues with rage had gotten him to a heap of trouble in the past four years. Enough so that I did what I could to keep him on lockdown. "He's my kid brother. A pain in my ass."

My buddy laughed. "Well, if anyone can handle him, you can. You've done a damn good job so far. Let me see what I can find for you, and I was planning on coming out for one of the races this year."

Since the huge stadium had been built, tourism had picked up extensively. "Good deal. Let me know as soon as you can discover anything. You know how I feel about certain illegal substances."

"Yeah, you and I are getting too old to chase down drug dealers."

"Hey. Speak for yourself, buddy. I'm still young." We both laughed and seconds later, I ended the call, taking a deep breath as I slipped my phone back into my jacket pocket. I'd lost my youth the day my parents had died, forcing me to become a surrogate father. Still, my kid brother was the only family I had, both sets of grandparents long dead, my father's parents refusing to acknowledge their own son after our departure for a better life in the States.

So much for reminiscing.

As I walked into the hallway, I heard a commotion, someone cursing in Italian.

Then I heard a clang, dishes being shattered. I pulled out my weapon, carefully making my way into the corridor. One of Tony's waiters was screaming at the very woman I'd been interested in, yanking on her arms. The look on her face was one of terror, her entire face twisting from fear.

But she managed to pull away, guarding the to-go bag in her hand as if it was the air she needed to breathe. As she bounded for the door, I lowered my weapon. It was obvious she'd run out on the tab.

"I'm calling the police!" he screamed.

"Let her go," I told him. "I'll pay for it."

The waiter turned around, hissing before darting into the kitchen. A strange set of sensations, jolts of current rushed through me as she managed to head out the door. But in a slow-motion flash, I noticed her eyes opening wide just as the door was thrown open. And the mysterious yet beautiful woman did something completely out of character. Her food bag tossed to the floor, she lunged toward the man heading inside. In a split second, I realized why.

In the asshole's hand was a weapon, the bastard preparing to shoot.

Pop! Pop!