Page 141 of Corrupted Heart

“How much do you owe Chernoff?”

He gulps weakly. “Three hundred grand.”

I grit my teeth. I can’t believe I’m about to spare this piece of shit’s life for a measly three hundred grand. But I won’t have his wife, whose only crime was saying “I do” to this walking choad, getting dragged into this.

“How much cash do you have on?—”

Movement behind me pulls my attention up from the sink. In the mirror, I see Tim stumble to his feet, glance at me with terror in his eyes, and then lurch for the bathroom door. I roll my eyes as I turn.

“You’re not seriously going to make a run for it, are?—”

Tim’s feet skid out, slipping on the toilet water. He gasps as he tips backward, a shocked expression on his dumb face as his world goes upside-down. With a choked bleat, he somehow does a half backflip before landing on the floor, head-first, with a sickening crunch sound.

The bathroom goes silent.

Fuck.

“Tim?”

I frown as I walk over, then crouch down to slap his face once or twice. “Tim.”

Blood begins to form a puddle under his head. There’s no way his neck is supposed to be at that angle. My fingers go to his jugular, and my jaw grinds.

Shit.

He’s dead.

I exhale as I roll my shoulders and stand, staring down at him. Now, I’m not in any way shape or form bent out of shape about it. But it does look like I’m going to owe Lukas a favor after all.

I mean, he did ask me not to make a mess.

I’m on my way out of the Black Swan when someone catches my eye in one of the side poker rooms: Arian Kirakosian, sipping a glass of something, a grimace on his face.

Just leave, idiot.

I exhale with a groan.

In many respects—okay, in just about every respect—Bianca has been a one-thousand-percent net positive influence on my life. I’m noticing the goodness in the world. I sleep better at night. My…and my beast’s…need for bloodshed and violence is certainly tempered.

Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve killed at all since she crashed into my life like a goddamn basket of daisies and kittens. Tim just now doesn’t count. That’s his fault for running like a fucking idiot.

But there’s one side effect of overdosing on Bianca that’s a pain in the ass: I’ve got this thing now where I care.

It’s a habit I can’t seem to shake these days, and it’s a thorn in my fucking side. Every logical thought says to just walk the hell out of this casino right now. To leave well enough alone when it comes to Arian and the Albanians. And yet, even as I’m telling myself to walk the fuck away, go figure, my feet are carrying me into the room until I’m standing right in front of Arian.

The Bianca Effect, ladies and gentlemen, in all its chaotic glory.

Arian arches a brow as I stop in front of him.

“My condolences for your loss, Arian,” I nod stiffly. “Your father was a good man.”

He smiles wanly at me, but he nods back. “I appreciate that. He was short-sighted, maybe a little naive at times…” He shakes his head. “But thank you, Kratos.” He clears his throat. “I, ah, didn’t know you played cards.”

“I don’t,” I rumble. “Just here tying up a loose end.”

He smirks. “Should I be worried?”

“Not unless you need to piss anytime soon.”

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