Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
“I was following orders, man,” he says through gritted teeth as the pain consumes him.
With the handle firmly in my hold, I slice up and hit his heart before I plunge it in deep. “And I’m doing God’s work by takin’ out another piece of scum like you.”
His head falls back, and his body goes limp. Another waste of space dead. I tug the knife out and wipe it with my handkerchief.
“Where to now, boss?” Mikhail asks.
“Looks like we’re heading to Chicago. Make sure the jet is ready.”
“Maxim Fedorov, what brings you to these seedy parts?” Axel Moretti asks.
Axel is the son of Stephano Moretti, an acquaintance of my father's. A made man who killed his way to the top with ruthless ambition. Once on his throne, he married his predecessor’s wife and claimed the entire kingdom. I wasn’t sure how Stephano would react to me, but he seemed to shrug it off as part of doing business.
His son, Axel, I’ve always liked. He’s wild and has a predatory way about him, but as criminals go, he isn’t that bad.
My gaze moves from him to his two best friends. They’re lovers if the rumors are true. Apparently, the three of them are a little too involved in each other’s sex lives.
Ronan, I know from way back. He’s the son of a Russian oligarch and a famous Bollywood actress. He’s a rich, spoiled playboy that gets what he wants when he wants it. He also has a thing about watching people.
Kian is the charming one, but rumor has it he likes to do some interesting things to women and, occasionally, men.
“Axel. Long time, my friend.” I turn to his two friends and nod. “Ronan, Kian.”
“Been a minute, Max.” Ronan returns my nod before leaning back in the booth and spinning a knife on the table, balancing it on the tip of the blade. He turns to Mikhail. “What’s with the mask?”
“It’s for your protection,” Mikhail says. “If I show you what’s under it, I’d have to kill you.”
Ronan jumps out of his seat, but Kian grabs his arm. “Chill, bro. We don’t need to be causing something.”
Ronan growls but sits back down, taking a sip of his beer.
Axel ignores his friends, focusing on me. “What are you doing here, Maxim?”
“I’m lookin’ for someone. Last I heard, she was in Chicago. I thought you’d be able to lend a hand since this is your turf.”
Axel gestures toward his table, a round mahogany wooden table surrounded by red velvet cushioned seats reserved for VIP customers.
Indulgence is a gentleman’s club surrounded by half-naked servers and strippers who do anything these men want with no questions. A seedy place, but because of the pretty packaging, it somehow isn’t a strip joint but a gentleman’s club.
The ceilings hold chandelier lighting that gives off a soft blue hue and affords an air of affluence and class. The floor is pristine, sparkling, not a speck of dirt to be found. At the center of the bar is a circular stage with women coming and going, gyrating against a pole for a bunch of men in business suits.
Strip clubs have always made me uncomfortable. No matter how well they try to hide what this place is, the half-naked girls sticking their pussies and asses in men's faces reveal the truth of this place. It’s a strip joint in classy clothing.
“We had to meet here?” I ask.
Axel smirks as he lights a cigarette. “Yes. “This is where information flows. It’s a central spot for business, especially in the skin trade.”
I grit my teeth, hating any mention of Samira and the skin trade in the same sentence. “Some of these assholes are in the business of buying and selling women, so we’ve got to walk the line. They gotta think we want to buy or partake, not that you go around killing guys in their business. Got it?”
“You think this is my first rodeo? I didn’t become who I am by not playing the games of sick fucks.”
A blonde server wearing a skimpy outfit with her tits hanging out stops at our table. “Whatcha want to drink, Sugar?”
“I’m good, thanks,” I say, waving her away.
“Doesn’t work that way, baby. Gotta buy a drink to stay.”
“Just give me whatever you got on that tray.”
She drops two shooters that look like mini coffees topped with whipped cream on the table, eyeing Mikhail when he shoots them both back before I go for my wallet.
She smirks and winks at Mik. “Never thought I’d see a guy who looks like you knock back some blow jobs, sugar.”
Ronan smirks, handing the server a fifty-dollar bill. “That right there is worth more than any naked ass I could see on that stage.”
If Mik’s mad, I can’t see it. In the dark, it’s even harder to notice his eyes.