I almost smile at the thought. “They’re hungry,” I tell him. “It’s steak night.”
He laughs and presses a button to let me in. With him in his booth, it’s impossible to see, but I know he has several guns hidden by his legs and a security button that he can push if there’s an emergency that will notify me and every single one of my men. If any bastard ever manages to make it through my gate, they’ll wish they hadn’t when they meet my dogs.
Parking in the three-car garage, I shut off the engine and give a quick whistle. Within seconds I have three large dogs running towards me. Shortly after moving here, I’d seen a cane corso for sale, and I’d ended up buying three of them. They’re the perfect dogs. One look at them will scare the hell out of most people, but the truth is they’re unbelievably sweet and gentle. They guard the house and walk the perimeter fence that surrounds all fifteen acres of land, but unless they felt like my life or theirs were in danger, I really doubt they’d ever bite anyone.
They smell the steaks in the bag and start to whine. Three sleek butts, each in a different color, wiggle in their excitement. I speak to them in Russian and let them into the house, laughing when they race toward the patio doors. They know the drill. Opening the French doors, I walk over to the large grill and get it started. The ocean waves crash along the beach, but I can barely hear it over the excited whimpers. I toss tennis balls while I get everything ready, and as soon as they smell the steaks, they start to drool. The amount of drool when they smell food is the only drawback to the breed, and I’ll gladly put up with it.
As soon as the steaks are brown enough to be deemed safe to eat, but still rare enough to please them, I make the three of them line up and sit. They wait patiently while I drop a steak into each of their bowls. They keep their amber eyes on mine, and when I give the single-word command, they dig in. Grabbing my own food, I sit out on the veranda with them, enjoying the cool breeze coming off the water and not caring that I chose to be with my dogs instead of pick up random pussy at the club. Pathetic? Maybe, but my dogs sure are happy, and they’ll be around a lot longer than some random one-night stand.
Confident I made the right choice, I chew my steak slowly while they inhale theirs. They run off to play long before I’ve finished my meal, and when I’m just about to go inside, my phone buzzes on the table next to me. Vasily’s name pops up, and when I read it, I let out a groan.
We need to grab the sister. Scott just went out, and she’s there alone. Are the guys with you?
I tell him I left them at the club and that I’m back at my house.
You ate supper with your dogs again, didn’t you? God, that’s so sad.
I shake my head and type out a response.You’re one to talk. How’s Ruslan, by the way?
He’s sleeping by the crib, smartass.
I laugh at the image of his huge Tibetan mastiff sprawled out beneath their son’s crib and ask him,You need me to grab her?
Can you?
Yeah, sure. I think I can handle one woman. I can ask the guys for help if I need it.
Sounds good. I’ll text you her photo in a sec. Let me know when you have her.
I give him a thumbs up and grab my plate. So much for my relaxing night at home. It’s been a while since I’ve had to go in and grab someone, and as irritated as I am for the unplanned disruption, there’s also a good bit of excitement running through me as I pack a quick bag. The last thing I grab is a black ski mask, because you can’t ever go wrong with a classic.
Giving the dogs each a bit of love, I tell them to watch the house and then get back in my car. The loud rumble of the engine pulls a genuine smile from me as I give Boris another wave and head back into the city. Gunning the engine when I hit the highway, a laugh slips through, proving that I can in fact have fun and that I do lighten up on occasion. I’m forced to slow down once I turn onto the side street that will take me to the subdivision Scott lives in. The houses are lit up around me, lines of carbon-copy mansions dot both sides of the street. Parking along the curb before the entrance to the cul-de-sac, I grab my phone, sending a quick text to Ivan, one of the guys watching Scott, asking if there’s anything I need to be aware of.
Scott left earlier with some friends. There might still be one in the house, though. We’re tailing him now, looks like he’s headed downtown. I saw his sister getting something from her car before he left.
My brother still hasn’t sent me a photo, so I send another text to Ivan, asking for one. I’m less than thrilled with the response.
Sorry, man. I don’t have one. She’s short, dark hair, and gorgeous. You can’t miss her.
I thank him and slowly pull into the cul-de-sac, knowing it’ll look way more suspicious if I get out and walk the distance, especially for the walk back when I’ll apparently be carrying a short brunette. I pull into the driveway, parking my beauty of a car next to an old Ford Escort that looks like it’s running on nothing but fumes and desperation. Looks like some of Scott’s friends aren’t getting as big of a cut.
Grabbing my bag, I get out of the car and head around to the back of the house like I have every damn right to be here. As soon as I’m far enough away from the security lights mounted around their garage and confident that the darkness is concealing me, I slip on the ski mask and a pair of black gloves. With the bag slung over my shoulder, I follow the path to the backyard. Their house doesn’t butt up against the ocean like mine does, so to make up for it, they have a massive in-ground pool with lounge chairs lined up around it, a hot tub, and a veranda with more patio furniture and a large flat-screen TV. The place is littered with beach towels, empty red cups, and various bikini tops and bottoms tossed around like fucking confetti. The place looks like a goddamn frat house.
Ignoring the mess, I run my eyes over the windows, watching for any movement from within. When I don’t see anything, I step closer to the set of French doors. I’m about to dig out my lock-picking tools, but on a whim, I try the handle and realize the damn thing is unlocked. My estimation of Scott’s intelligence keeps finding new lows. Sneaking in, I quietly shut the door behind me, not bothering to lock it because the bad guy is already inside. The house is silent and most of the lights are off. I weave around the furniture, noticing the inside of the house is a lot cleaner than the outside.
Stepping into a large kitchen, I’m just walking past the island when I hear footsteps approaching. Backing against the wall, I wait, listening as the steps go down the hallway. Peeking out, I see a man step into what looks to be a bathroom and shut the door behind him. While I wait for him, I eye the foyer in front of me and nearly give myself away by laughing at what has to be the world’s ugliest painting. Who the fuck paints big, hairy ballsacks and frames it in their entryway?
Swallowing the laughter, I grab my knife and step back into the kitchen when I hear the bathroom door open. The man comes closer, no doubt planning on getting a snack from the kitchen, but his plans are cut short when he steps in and I immediately grab him, shoving him against the wall and clamping a hand over his mouth. I grimace at the feel of his lip ring and overly moist lips against my palm. His eyes are wide with terror, and when he sees the knife, he lets out a scared moan while his knees threaten to give out.
“You were warned to stop selling for Scott,” I remind him before swiping the sharp blade across his neck, making sure to hit the carotid artery so it’ll be quick. It’s a messy death, the blood soaking my gloves and shirt, but there’s little to be done about that. I do feel sorry for his maid, though. She’s going to have her hands full.
The soft whimper behind me has me whipping my head around as a massive case of déjà vu hits me as yet another dead body falls to my feet. The young woman staring at me has a hand clamped to her mouth, and her eyes are so wide I can see the whites all around. She’s gorgeous, and for a second all I can do is stare at her as my knife drips blood onto the nice tiled floor.
Short, dark hair, and gorgeous. I smile at Kaylee and take a step closer.
Chapter 3
Maddie
