She turns all the way around and I see she’s holding a piece of notebook paper. “He’s not here,” she says. Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “How did you get in here?”
“Security guy,” I tell her.
Ares adds, “We asked him nicely.”
Her eyes dart between us and slowly, I see a mix of fear and intrigue swim behind them… and maybe a little disgust. She clears her throat and says, “Well, you shouldn’t be in here right now. We’re closed.”
“I meet with him every month,” I say. “We have a standing appointment.”
“You don’t say?” she says with a raise of her eyebrows. I just answered some question that she had. Maybe something that she was meaning to ask him today. If she’s as good with the books as Omar suggested, then there’s no doubt about the answers she was seeking.
“You must be the manager he mentioned hiring,” I say to ease the tension around her. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“That’s because I never threw it,” she says smartly. She looks me up and down, then her shoulders relax. “Listen, whatever meeting you had with Omar, you might as well cancel it indefinitely. He’s left town.”
Alarms go off in my head. “Where did he go?”
She shrugs and hands me the paper. “Maybe you can tell me.”
I read the note. It’s short and sweet.Son of a bitch.Ares glances at it from over my shoulder and grunts in affirmation. The fucker bolted anyway. “I suppose he never mentioned taking any trips, did he?”
“Why would he tell me anything like that?”
“Well, you are his manager.”
“I’m not his keeper,” she says with disgust. “He’s the owner. Technically, he doesn’t have to tell me anything.”
Omar really kept everyone in the dark about his business dealings. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised… but she certainly is about to be.
“Listen,” she goes on, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but?—”
“Want me to handle this?” Ares says in a low timber.
She stops and throws him a scowl. “Excuse me, but I can hear you.”
Ares doesn’t even look at her. He’s asking me if he can get Omar’s location out of her the hard way. Probably something involving pliers and a blowtorch. I don’t blame him for not believing her. He leaves nothing to chance.
I hand her back the paper. Then, I reach into my jacket pocket and hand her my card. “Call me if he comes back here. It’s very important that we speak.”
She just stares up at me wordlessly with those eyes, her soft, pink mouth open slightly in question. If only this were a better time…
“I’m Roman, by the way,” I tell her.
She blinks and stammers, “Ember. I’m Ember Lorenzo.”
“Nice to meet you.”
I turn and motion to Ares to follow me.
It’s beena week since we were there and there’s been no sign of Omar. I’ve put the word out to our sister gangs and allies all across the country, and so far, nobody’s seen him. Bastard just vanished into thin air.
It’s funny. If he had been there without the money, there’s no guarantee that I would have killed him. Hurt him, perhaps, but if I were to be honest, killing him wasn’t definitively on the tableuntil now. Running is so much worse. I can’t tolerate that kind of disrespect.
I’m sitting in my office as Ivan taps along on his laptop. As myobshchak, his job is normally to mind the money that flows through the Bratva. Right now, I need him for more than just that.
He stops typing and leans into the screen, adjusting the thick glasses on his nose. When Ivan has long sleeves on, he looks the part of an accountant. His brown hair is in a short, conservative cut and he usually has a serious expression on his face. But his arms are tattooed from shoulder to wrist like the rest of us, telling the story of his journey through our Bratva. He’s been with me for at least ten years and before that, he worked for my mentor. While I know better than to fully trust anyone within the Bratva, he’s never steered me wrong.
He leans back and finally says, “According to public records, the Kitten’s Paw only pulled in about four hundred thousand last year. For a club of that size, that’s a comfortable amount. Hardly what I’d call a successful club, though.”
