Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I nod. “Ah, ok.”
“I saved him from a situation in my country, and the motherfucker owes me.” He glances at one of his guards. “Call the girl over here to get Mr. Huxley a drink.” He turns to face me, leaning in. “Sorry for being so rude.”
I shrug. “It’s fine. I’ll have a Glenfiddich 30.”
A short, black-haired woman hurries over and Yuri relays my drink request. As she leaves, he leers at her ass.
“I think I might take her home tonight,” he says to me.
I deal with men like Yuri a lot. Not all of them mob bosses, but all cut from the same chauvinist-pig cloth.
I switch gears. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
He gives me an apologetic look, his jowls sagging. “I’ve been busy with my empire. I had to go to Russia to oversee a few things.”
My drink arrives, and I take a sip. “See your sons all the time.”
“Ah, are they causing trouble again? I swear, I spoiled them too much when they were little.” He barks out a laugh. “I apologize for them. Let me know how much I owe you.”
“They haven’t caused any damage to anything.”
“Then why are you here?” His saggy face grows serious, like he’s sobered up in the past two seconds.
“Have you seen the news? A few of my Greedy Girls were murdered.”
Understanding dawns on his old features. “And you want to see if I know anything about it?”
“Do you?”
“I wish I could give you something, my friend, but I know nothing.”
I swirl my liquor, letting the ice cubes clink together as I study Yuri, determining if he’s telling the truth. Yuri may be a member at my club, but that doesn’t mean I trust the asshole. “Mm,” I say before I take another swallow. “I don’t have to remind you I can bring down your entire empire with one phone call, right?”
Yuri’s head rears back, like I’ve slapped him across the face. “Devereaux, if I knew anything, I’d tell you.”
“What about your sons?”
His eyes show genuine fear in them. Like he’s as unsure of their innocence as me. When I decided to question Yuri, I knew he had nothing to do with killing my girls. It’s not his style, but his sons are a newer, nastier variety of criminal.
“No. I don’t think my sons would do that. Do they kill people?” He shrugs. “Sure, but only men. They’d never kill pussy.”
I run my hand over my jaw. “I’m going to talk to your sons about it but wanted to talk to you first.”
He nods. “Thank you.” His attention returns to the fight that just ended with the yellow-trunk guy taking a mean left jab to the face and falling flat on his back to the ring’s floor. Guess he didn’t win. “I have to go. I have business,” he mutters.
We shake hands, and I weave through the crowd and head to my car in the lot. It’s no longer raining as I race down the empty roads toward Club Greed on the other side of town. Tonight will be a busy one with all the reservations in the books, and I know Adele can handle herself, but it’s unnerving not knowing what’s happening in my club.
I’m definitely not expecting what I see when I make my way through the club, into the back employee area.
Adele towers over Swan, tugging and trying to fasten the back of Swan’s corset.
“What the fuck is going on?” I bark out, trying my best not to let my hungry eyes feast on Swan’s tempting outfit.
She’s dressed in a black corset with a pink ribbon lacing through the silk material into a bow that sits just above her apple-shaped ass. Black stockings travel up to a pair of barely there pink panties.
Fuck me.
I nearly come all over myself just from the sight.
Yet, this is all wrong.
Swan’s startled gaze holds mine.
“She’s dancing for the Chekov party tonight,” Adele says, interrupting my dirty thoughts.
“No the fuck she’s not.”
Adele abandons Swan’s corset and parks a hand on her hip. “There’s no one else.”
I yank my phone out of my pocket and bring up the schedule on one of my managing apps. I scroll through the list of girls working tonight. “We scheduled Kitty to be in that room tonight.”
“She called out sick.” Adele raises a hand. “Don’t worry, her boyfriend is with her. She’s ok.”
Normally, I’d breathe a sigh of relief that Kitty’s home safe, but I’m too worked up over this recent change of events to calm down.
“What about Luna?”
“Luna has a group that requested her, so she’s busy.”
My hands ball into fists. Hell, I think I’d rather have Adele go into the monster’s cave instead of Swan.
And she’ll be dancing for the Chekov brothers?
Over my dead body.
Chapter 14
Chloe
* * *
Devereaux looks testier than I’ve ever seen him. I try not to get angry at his implication that I’m not good enough—not sexy enough—to dance.