Delta once again bursts at its seams, overflowing with half-naked women writhing on the dance floor to modern techno remixes of the nineties R’n’B classics. Music blares from the speakers, sifting through the air that smells heavily sweet of coconuts and vanilla.
And zero giant dildos are in sight. The club looks more or less as it did before the fire, with a few updated details. A white to red color change of floor-length curtains that hung behind the DJ station happened. It was an unconscious decision. I didn’t realize at the time why I craved red…
Now, I crave red even more.
I was heading to my office at the back of the club to meet Spades and Nate when Layla called. She said two words. Two fucking words. Enough to briefly put my mind at ease.
She’s alive.
Not yet safe, but with the phone to my ear, the solution was simple: ask where the hell she is.
I asked.
She didn’t answer.
She hung up the fucking phone. When I tried to redial, a private number sat at the top of the callers’ list. It took effort, but I reined the burning need to hurl my phone at the crowd of dancing people. I did, however, squeeze the cell so hard that the screen cracked in three places.
Spades and Nate sit in the office, sprawled on the brand-new red leather couches. A bottle of Bourbon, eight crystal glasses, a box of Cuban cigars, and an ashtray sit on the table, ready for unwanted guests. Too much has happened in the last twenty-four hours… I’m no longer in the right frame of mind to endure a business meeting with the V brothers and Julij. They’re due any minute, but my mind is elsewhere. With her.
Julij hadn’t had the chance to meet the V brothers yet. Which is another reason why this meeting shouldn’t be happening tonight. I really can’t deal with their cocky attitudes. My fuse is way too short to referee the cock fight, which will, undoubtedly, ensue the second Vinn and Julij step into the same room together. Julij has an invidious ability to piss off a man without saying or doing much of anything. His face is enough. He can’t hide his emotions, and Vinn sure is easily offended. He looks for disrespect in everyone he comes across, always ready for a fight. He never takes the bigger man route, unable to just fucking drop it. I’m in for one hell of a circus show going forward.
“Caro called,” Spades says, but I shush him with one flick of my hand, dialing Jackson’s number for the hundredth time since I ordered him to find Layla yesterday morning.
God, it feels right to think about her as mine again.
“I still don’t know anything, Dante,” he answers, his tone laced with amusement rings in the office loud and clear through the speakerphone. “I told you it’ll take time. Longer if you don’t stop calling every ten minutes. Get a fucking hobby, alright? Start knitting or go fishing.”
Spades and Nate elbow each other like children. They’re having a blast watching me lose my shit as I pace the room, growing uncharacteristically impatient.
“Layla called,” I say, stopping either of them from offering an alternative hobby or a snarky comment.
My people adapted to my change of heart faster than the light turns on after a switch is flipped. They knew my resolution to leave Layla behind like a figment of my past wouldn’t last long, but they stood back and watched from the sidelines while I processed her betrayal at my own slow pace.
So fucking slow.
Now, they organize search parties to locate Layla and contact our allies to thwart whoever plans on participating in the hit. The busy schedule doesn’t interfere with their not-so-subtle digs and yanking my chain all day long, though. Spades and Nate took it upon themselves to bug me for waiting so long before chasing after Layla.
I know they’re just trying to distract me from the problem at hand, from the fact that hundreds of killers are out there, salivating at the prospect of earning three million dollars. Keen to kill the one person I care about more than myself.
Surprisingly, I don’t need a distraction. I’m proud and rather impressed by how I handle the situation. My mind took the wheel, locking my heart in the trunk to focus and work in peace without the unwanted distraction of ache or fear leaping in the way.
“Did she say where she is?” Spades reacts first, his spine straight as an arrow, undivided attention on me. He’s waiting for orders, ready to go wherever we might need to go to get Layla.
“No. And no caller ID. Can you trace it, Jackson?”
“Yeah, sure I can. It’ll take a while, but it’ll be faster than what I had planned. I need your phone. Send Nate or Spades here, and I’ll get on it right away.”
Nate’s up before Jackson stops talking. He grabs my phone, cuts the call, and leaves the office without a word. It’s good to have a crew who knows how to use their brains.
“Here they come.” Spades motions at the screens behind my back which show the live feed from cameras inside Delta.
Together with Caro, the V brothers climb the metal staircase leading to the balcony. A moment later, the office door stands open. Vince enters first, a bottle of cognac in hand, a three-piece gray suit on his back. “The club looks good,” he says, giving my hand a firm squeeze.
“It looks the same.” Vinn clips, sauntering closer to pat my back. “Any news about Layla?”
“Not yet. How are things looking on your side?”
Vince sits on the couch and takes the liberty of standing in as our bartender for the evening. He pours the cognac, glancing around to check if anyone else wants a drink. I’m off alcohol for the time being. I need to stay alert, focused, and sober to jump behind the wheel at a moment’s notice.
“None of our clients will touch the job, and all have instructed their people to steer clear.”
“That’s a start,” I say, thinking of the bosses we supply with drugs. “Julij’s been calling off Nikolaj’s affiliates.”
The one in question chooses this moment to make an appearance, stealth as a ninja if I hadn’t spotted him on the cameras. Vinn narrows his eyes, scrutinizing Dimitri as if looking for weak spots. Knowing Vinn, that’s what he’s doing.
I didn’t expect Julij to dive into new business ventures one day after the casket with his father was lowered into the ground, but when he learned the V brothers were due in Chicago tonight, he packed a suitcase and left New York by my side. That’s not what struck a nerve, though… Anatolij boarding the plane with us without a word or explanation, did.
There’s something peculiar about him. The sophistication of Prince Charming mixed with the wickedness of Scar from “The Lion King.” He carries himself with an abundance of respect and an undeniable sense of conviction, and he talks like a Commander strategizing his next move. He fooled me into believing he’s the two-point-oh version of the bosses from the olden days like the infamous Al Capone, whom Julij compared him to a few weeks ago.
But there’s more to Anatolij than meets the eye. More layers than most notice. For a reason I can’t yet understand, he favors me over his nephew. We spent the better part of the flight back to Chicago engrossed in a conversation about the hit on Layla. With no connection to the matter, he offered to help in any way he can.
It got me thinking… connecting the dots.
“How’s Jackson doing?” Julij asks, marching across the room to shake my hand.
The king-of-the-world attitude is back in full—a defense mechanism designed to hide his insecurities. He disregards the V brothers and the need for introductions, his eyes fixed on me, awaiting an answer.
I motion behind his back. “That’s Vinn and Vince, and that’s their right hand, Caro.”
“I had an idea,” he continues, without as much as a nod in the V brothers’ direction. “You’re not gonna like it.”
Vinn’s jaw tightens, eyes sparkling with annoyance that paints his face bright red. Looks like we’re off to a great start. Under different circumstances, I’d deal with his shitty attitude first, but right now, I don’t give a fuck. He’s onto something. I can tell. Any idea is worth pursuing if it’ll help me find Layla. No way he’s referring to anything else. He’s on his toes, worried, impatient, and desperate to find her. Under normal circumstances, his feelings would be bothersome, but right now, I don’t give a fuck who loves Layla if anyone is ready to turn every rock, check every lead, and kill anyone who stands in my way to her. Julij will. He won’t rest until she’s back in Chicago. Safe, with me.
He’d happily give his arm to make it happen.
I’d happily detach his arm from his body to teach him a lesson. Don’t touch what’s mine. Don’t dream about it either.
“Spit it out,” Vince seethes.
“I know someone who might know exactly where Layla is.”
I narrow my eyes, straining to see the big picture among the white noise of obsessive worry thrashing inside me like a pissed-off snake. The answer leaps in front of me out of nowhere and smacks me across the face. Fuck.
Why didn’t I think of her sooner?
“Jess.”
Julij’s right. I don’t fucking like this.
