“There’s a lot on this month, Chance, including the opening of the Isis and Osiris show. Be ready. If you have any questions, let me know.”
The former actor nodded. His blond hair was perfectly styled and his teeth blinding white. He had an even tan, despite it being winter, which I knew was down to weekly appointments at his spa.
The assassin known as the Reaper had died, and no one had ever known the abandoned runaway named Cameron. In my new life, I hadn’t wanted my face plastered everywhere as the owner of the Avernus. Chance played that role for me, and I paid him very well in return.
I ran the business, and he attended the press conferences, the parties, the charity events, and the interviews. He hobnobbed with VIPs and high rollers.
That left me free to take care of business and do whatever the hell I wanted.
Chance tapped the tablet screen. “First up is the charity gala.”
“Yes. You’ll need a speech.”
His gaze flicked my way. “You give away a lot of your fucking money, Bastian.”
“Because I have a lot of it. And there are people who need it.”
I’d started the Avernus with several bags of uncut diamonds I’d recovered on my very last kill for the CIA. They hadn’t been mine. I hadn’t earned them, but neither had the ruthless dictator I’d taken them from. I’d used them to build the casino, and from that investment, I could give back.
Chance grunted and rose. “Okay, I think that’s everything. I’ll catch you later.”
I sank back in my leather chair, my gaze shifting to the view out the floor-to-ceiling windows. From here, I could see all of Las Vegas and the mountains in the distance.
I’d been born in Chicago, then abandoned at a fire station as a newborn. After several foster homes, I’d run away to take my chances on the streets.
Chicago had been fucking cold. I still hated the snow.
I liked Las Vegas better. I knew exactly what it felt like to be alone and shivering, freezing cold, and worried if you’d survive the night.
As my gaze swept over the city below me, I wondered where Lark was. She had to be somewhere close.
Leaning forward, I opened the top drawer of my desk. I pulled out a small roll of black fabric and then opened it.
Inside lay a knife.
It was a beautiful blade, a piece of art. I picked it up. Lark had been forced to leave it when she’d last attacked me. I strokedthe carbon steel. The knife was perfectly designed for an assassin with a no-glare finish and tough, sculpted hilt.
My office door opened, and Nash stepped inside. Smoothly, I slipped the knife away. He wasn’t alone. He was followed by three other men.
“Did you forget how to knock?” I asked silkily.
Nash sat on the black-leather couch near the wall. “You keep ignoring me and this Lark situation. I brought in reinforcements.”
I glanced at the others. The three men were all so different, but they had one thing in common. They were all former assassins.
They now all lived in villas on the golf course behind the casino and we’d become a messed-up family of sorts. The one closest to me was Cole Black. Broad, muscular, with a powerful body, you could tell in an instant that he was a brawler. He did very well for himself in the underground fight rings. He’d been a mercenary for a while, then a freelance hitman people had known as Darkwolf.
Landon Bradshaw stood beside him. He had smooth, dark skin, short hair the color of ink, and a dark goatee. Once he’d been the assassin known as the Blade. He’d been black ops like Nash. Now he was a doctor, and vowed only to use his skills to heal, not kill.
The final man moved silently across my office. Toward the windows. Alessio Rossi was lean, bronze-skinned, and covered in tattoos. The ex-mafia enforcer didn’t say much, but he was always hypervigilant. He missed nothing.
“So, this is an intervention?” I asked.
“Shewillkill you,” Nash said.
I sighed, sensing my friend’s frustration. “She blames me for killing Ed. I haven’t had the chance to explain to her why.”
I’d had no choice but to kill him.
