Page 12 of Lord of Ruin

Christos had cleared out the man’s motel room, tossing everything and cleaning every surface. No one would know the man hadn’t simply checked out. Now, his brother on the other hand had to know by now his brother wasn’t going to show up. While I was marginally surprised Whitie had chosen to come here, the other side of me remembered that neither man had been able to ignore the powerful lure of gambling.

After all, every man on this planet had a vice, a cross to bear. Mine? Pepperoni pizza with extra cheese. I could live off the stuff.

“She hot?” he asked then threw up his hands before backing away. He’d teased me relentlessly about my choice in women. Often, they weren’t my choice. In our line of work, the television commercials I’d become the star of since Phoenix didn’t like having his picture taken and Nico, my younger brother, refused to play the political games necessary to stay in business, every woman I’d dated had looked like a movie star. Of course, they had their plastic surgeons on speed dial, but men were envious of my little harem.

Even if I’d been bored to death with my choices the last few years. I only used them for brief moments of sexual satisfaction. Even that had left a bad taste in my mouth. Maybe I was getting too old to be a playboy.

I milled through the casino, seeing no one of interest. While the staff was dressed impeccably, that didn’t mean there was a requirement of a suit and tie for men or a classy dress or pantsuit for the ladies. The attire was as eclectic as the people gambling away their hard-earned money.

After searching every table, I moved toward the smaller of the two rooms, standing in the doorway for a few seconds. The crowd was even larger, more rambunctious than the other one. While I’d been tipped off by one of Gabriel’s men Whitie was here, the soldier had been called to another duty, unable to keep an eye on the traitor.

The quiet vibration of my phone was a good indication the man had been located. I admitted I wanted a nice dinner and a glass or two of scotch before heading back to the hotel. The longer this took, the later it would be, and my stomach was already growling. I glanced at the screen and grinned.

The fucker had likely recognized Christos and thought he’d given him the slip by heading out back to the outdoor café, which led to the parking garage. I knew the entire lay of the casino and resort, mapping out every area in my head just in case Whitie had attempted to escape.

If he did manage to jump ship without me catching up with him, it would tarnish the family’s reputation and I refused to allow that to happen. I was a consummate professional after all.

I snickered at the thought, typing a response to meet me on the other side of the café as quickly as possible. At least Christos wasn’t my only soldier with a body built to be a bouncer. Christos had been an award-winning sprinter in school, which meant he could easily outrun me.

I headed out the closest door, quickly scanning the perimeter.

Whitie took that exact moment to stop and glance in my direction, drawing my attention to him and him to me. That’s when he took off running, shoving his way through the customers and waiters, the poor guys and gals dropping trays. The clattering sounds were matched with screeches and even a scream or two as the idiot decided to climb over tables when he couldn’t get around the people in his way.

He also tossed chairs in my path, trying to break my stride. The more damage he caused, the more I cringed since I was in a borrowed establishment. Gabriel knew I was here and what I had planned. That didn’t mean he wanted his place jacked up because the traitor was being an idiot.

I would provide another layer of punishment for that alone.

While he continued doing everything in his power to slow me down, making it to the door leading to the parking garage, Christos appeared out of the blue, issuing several brutal punches to Whitie’s jaw and stomach. That prompted another round of screams and a small stampede, which didn’t bode well for every being invited to the fine establishment again.

At least Whitie appeared down for the count. Now I had to decide where I wanted to cart him off to since I had about four hundred witnesses watching me. Damn it. The asshole was more trouble than the money he’d brought in.

Exhaling, I slowed down, apologizing, something I almost never did, while picking up a few chairs as I headed toward the fallen man.

Christos was pacing back and forth and if I knew him, he was cursing in Greek, when what appeared to be a maître d’ rushed in front of him, yelling at the top of his lungs. I should have known that hanging back for even a couple of extra minutes was a bad choice since Whitie lifted his head and from where I was standing, I could see a grin on his face.

I took off running again, this time being the one to toss chairs and people out of the way. When Whitie slipped through the door leading to several floors of a parking garage, I was the one cursing, and certainly not under my breath.

“Goddamn motherfucking son of a bitch asshole!” I flew toward the door, able to give Christos a hard glare before tossing open the heavy steel door. I raced into the main garage, taking several scattered breaths as I moved a few feet to one side then the other, finally stopping and holding my breath to try to hear something.

Finally, I managed to grab the sound of footsteps heading down into the bowels of the building. Grinning, I flew down the stairs just as the door was flung open again, Christos rushing inside. With my Capo following closely behind, we made it to the next floor after I jumped off the last four steps onto the landing. Nope. He’d headed down another flight or two. I threw out my arm, stopping my second in command before he opened his mouth, able to realize the idiot had gone all the way to the bottom.

I wasn’t cut out for this shit. Either that or I needed to spend even more time in the gym. I was fucking winded. What the hell? I pulled out my 9mm Heckler and Koch, holding it in both hands. One good thing about Whitie headed all the way to the bottom, that’s where the service staff usually parked, which meant there shouldn’t be any pesky tourists caught in the mix.

Whereas I’d wanted to take my time with the man, given the crap he’d just pulled, I couldn’t leave more of a mess for Gabriel’s cleanup crew. That wouldn’t be the professional thing to do.

Christos had his weapon in his hands. I motioned him with my head to the left while I went to the right. Given the way Whitie played blackjack, I had a feeling he’d headed to the right. It was just a usual force of nature, a habit not easy to break. I moved stealthily through the garage, marveling at the number of expensive vehicles, including those with employee tags.

How the hell much did Gabriel pay his people? Here I thought we were generous. I heard what had to be a coin being dropped whether on purpose or by accident, my excellent hearing catching the exact location and I headed toward it. I was about ten feet away when two shots rang out, both missing the mark and hitting the concrete pole next to me instead. I dropped and rolled, using my vantage point to see a pair of legs under an SUV. Given my expert marksmanship skills, I simply fired a single shot and the asshole dropped like a bag of flour tossed from the top shelf in a kitchen.

Or maybe I should say like a rat.

The guy howled as I rose to my feet, remaining cautious as I moved between vehicles until I rounded the last one. There he was, the little pissant who’d dare cross both me and my family.

I leaned on the hood of the Mercedes, giving him a hard look as Christo’s feet pounded in the distance coming my way.

“Mia forá arouraíos, pánta arouraíos. Isn’t that true, Whitie?”

“What the fuck does that shit mean? You know I don’t speak Greek, you fucker. You shot me. You shot me in the leg. You shattered my tibia.”

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