•••
TheAnwar family had become wealthy enough that they had built their own private gated community, where they could invite people to move into the homes they provided on the prestigious grounds. It didn’t appear much different from other exclusive gated communities, with golf clubs and swimming pools and lavish estates dotting the landscape. But if one looked closely, they would see that the number of security guards was tripled, if not quadrupled, and the weapons they carried had serious firepower. The family was free to throw their extravagant parties, providing their sex slaves to their friends and entrapping officials and other members of the various lairs they invited. Compromising anyone who came wouldn’t be a problem given what Maya had told them went on during the parties.
It was safe to say that anyone residing in that community was a member of the Anwar’s inner circle and aided in their trafficking ring. They were the higher echelon, profiting the most from it and drawing others into it. Most of them pretended to be Marzio’s friends. Some were shifters, some weren’t. All were guilty, humans and shifters alike.
The roving patrols had to be removed first. Those on the grounds and those in cars. The phones had been dealt with, the towers taken down, affecting not only Anwar’s area but a large grid, so it wouldn’t seem as if he was specifically targeted. Next, they jammed all radio and internet access as the Amurov soldiers proceeded through the large community, silently killing the guards and removing the bodies from sight.
Enrico Anwar lived in a long, sprawling U-shaped house with an inner courtyard. Gorya had the interior of the house mapped out in his head, the long hallways and various rooms. Which room was Enrico’s bedroom. His playroom. He had every luxury a man could want and then some. He believed in indulging himself. Gorya found it strange that there was very little to accommodate the man’s leopard. No high perches. No plants to lounge under. Didn’t Enrico allow his leopard freedom?
Gorya reached out to the leopard first, allowing his mind to travel through the house, energy low and nonthreatening. There could be no prior warning, not that it would matter. He had no doubt that he would kill Enrico, but he wanted this night over with as quickly as possible. This was a large group of men and women involved in the trafficking, a big cog in Jaoa Escabar Velentez’s wheel. It was imperative that they take it down swiftly and silently.
The leopard was lazy. Indolent. Enrico indulged in drugs, by turns sedating his leopard or hyping him up. His memories were of indulgence, but also work. Bartoloexpected his sons to run the docks on the days and times they had to bring in their cargo, and they did. They were hard workers and didn’t shirk, running the crews and keeping track of shipments, but when they played with the merchandise, they played just as hard. Enrico preferred to keep his leopard tuned to his moods and needs by enhancing him with drugs.
Gorya moved through the house unerringly, following the directions in his mind. It wasn’t difficult with the wide hallways. The archways were open, leading from one entry to the next. The rooms were spacious, with comfortable furniture. Abruptly, Rogue snarled, warning him Enrico wasn’t alone.
Gorya dropped to a crouch, annoyed that he hadn’t been given that information. They had eyes on the houses. It should have been relayed to him that Enrico had company. He was lucky that Rogue alerted, warning him before one of the other leopards sensed their presence. He kept his energy low and nonthreatening as he moved toward his target, which served him well in this instance.
It took a few more minutes to tap into the four leopards. One of the shifters present was Enrico’s younger brother, Samuele. The other three seemed to be close friends of the oldest Anwar son, now serving as his personal security. Only one of the three friends was tainted by drugs. Like Enrico’s, the male’s cat was disoriented and confused. The other two leopards were on edge. Samuele definitely hadn’t taken drugs, and his leopard was alert and, like the other two, restless and stressed.
It took some time for Gorya and Gedeon to calm the leopards and keep them from alerting their human shifter counterparts to their presence before they proceeded toward the playroom. Gorya could hear the sound of a cue stick hitting pool balls and then a voice.
“I don’t understand why Braum can’t take care of Amurov. His rep isn’t all that great,” Enrico’s distinctvoice said. He had a slight accent, reminiscent of his father’s. “I’ve met him. Believe me, he isn’t very impressive. On a bad day, Giacenta could take him.”
The three others in the room laughed. “Your sister could take Braum. He’s a chickenshit, sitting back and getting everyone else to do his dirty work for him,” one commented.
•••
Itmight be a good idea if you opened your eyes about now,” Maya told Giacenta. “We’ve found all the evidence we need in your little secret safe behind the wall. Not a very clever hiding place when you consider how the perfume and pills that were smuggled from New Orleans are in such short supply.”
Giacenta sat up with a curse, reaching for the gun she always kept next to her. It wasn’t there. She glared at Maya. “Who do you think you are, sneaking into my home and robbing me? Do you have any idea who I am?”
Maya ignored her and indicated to Meiling, who was in the shadows. “She’s ready for pickup. She’s a bit of a mess, but no one’s going to care what she looks like. I’d say she drank a little too much last night.”
“My security people are going to tear you to pieces. You have no idea what you’ve let yourself in for, you scrawny little nobody. Get the hell out of my house.” Giacenta’s voice rose to a high pitch. She leaned over and pressed a button over and over again.
“They’re all dead,” Maya informed her. “Every last one of them. Your brothers as well. Your father, like you, will be taken prisoner, but it would have been far kinder to just kill you.”
Giacenta hissed her displeasure and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her hair fell in tangles around her face. “Who are you?” She tried to pour reason into her voice, but it still came out haughty.
“It doesn’t matter. Get up. You’re coming with us. If you give us trouble, one of the men will be happy to drag you out by your hair.”
“You wouldn’t dare touch me.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Suit yourself,” Maya said. “Meiling, tell Fyodor we need a garbage collector.”
•••
Bartolopaced restlessly across the floor of his private den, glass of whiskey in hand. He didn’t like when things went wrong. Not even small things. This night had seemed to have some kind of weird domino effect, starting with phone towers going out and then the internet. Radios failing. He couldn’t raise his sons, either one of them. He’d tried his security people. He employed a shit ton of them just outside his house as well as roving walking patrols and patrols in vehicles. Two-man teams and four-man teams. Where the hell was everyone?
He kept his family and community safe. Their secrets were safe. They had places underground where they could interrogate prisoners. Anyone looking would expect it on the docks, not in their upscale neighborhood. Beneath the sprawling golf clubhouse were a gambling club to rival the best casinos and a party room where they brought the whores to entertain their guests any way their guests saw fit. If things went too far, there were always the ovens made just for the purpose of getting rid of shifter bodies or those they tortured and killed. He carried it all out under the nose of Marzio Caruso, the hot kingpin of Florida and the docks of Houston.
Marzio. His nemesis. He’d grown up with his father always pointing out how Marzio was such a success, ruling a huge territory in Florida. How everything Marzio touched seemed to turn to gold. No matter what he’d done, he’d always come up short in his father’s eyes.
“Bartolo.” The low voice came out of nowhere, seemingly disembodied, as if the shadows in the room had leapt to life. He whirled around, nearly dropping his crystal whiskey glass, only keeping his composure at the last moment. In the dim lighting, even with his superior vision, he had to blink several times before he made out Gorya Amurov sitting so still in his favorite leather chair.
“How did you get in here?” Bartolo demanded. “My guards...”
“Are dead. I killed them. It wasn’t that difficult. They really haven’t had any opposition, so they haven’t trained hard in years. Your sons are dead as well, in case you think they may come rushing to your rescue.”
