Page 13 of Twisted Fate

“Can’t I?” He watches me, almost amused. Like a cat observing a mouse begging not to become tonight’s dinner.

“What happens if Markus can’t pay you what he owes on time?” I ask, hating the weakness I hear in my own damn voice.

Damian takes hold of my chin and forces me to meet his gaze. “If he can’t pay, I’ll take something else of value. I’ll get my money’s worth, one way or the other. Accept this, Alina. You have no choice in the matter. For the next sixty days, you belong to me.”

6

Damian

There are three things I believe in: Family. Fortune. And fucking.

Alina Madsen chose family, chose to stay in order to keep her brother safe. That kind of loyalty is something I can respect. Family is everything.

I study her for a second, the pale blond fall of her hair, the proud tilt of her head, the blue eyes that watch me warily. After tonight, I might consider adding a fourth F.

Fate.

I’ve never believed in it before. But maybe I do now.

As I’d knelt beside my father, his blood and brains smearing my hands, I’d sworn to find his killer, to make the bastard pay. Blood for blood. Bone for bone.

But in order to kill the killer, I need to find him first.

Leo was immediately pulled into running the business. As much as he wanted to focus every moment on finding my father’s murderer, he’s been groomed since childhood to step in as boss. So that’s what he did. He sent Dante to New York and Cassio to Chicago to deal with business there while I spoke with informants, followed up on the tiniest lead, watched security tapes for hours, days, searching for some hint that might identify the shooter. There hadn’t been anything to find. It had been a professional hit. The guy had been smart. Careful. I went back and watched the tape from a day before the shooting. Then two days. Then three. And for a split second, I saw a blurry, grainy face I recognized.

An hour later, I had his name.

Enzo Bianchi. 32 years old. Born and raised in New York City until he moved to Vegas last year. That, literally, was all the information I could find on him, even with my sources who can usually uncover nearly anyone’s deepest darkest secrets.

I’d seen Bianchi before. Not just at the casino with Alina, but other times, too. And I realize now that other than the night at the casino, each of those times was when I was with my father.

At the very least, Bianchi knows something about my father’s murder. Quite possibly, he is the killer. Either way, he’s a dead man, but only after he screams and begs for mercy as I flay the skin from his living body. Only after I confirm my suspicion that he was acting on orders from Mikhail Ivanov.

Problem is, Bianchi has disappeared.

So I followed the only lead I had. I sent my people to find out everything they could about the blonde he had been with the night my father was shot.

No, that’s not the entire truth. I would have sent my people to find her even if she’d had nothing to do with Bianchi. She’s been living in my head rent-free for two months. I don’t usually spare a thought for a woman I’ve fucked, never mind one I haven’t. Maybe my fixation is some sort of penance, some sort of guilt over not rescuing the damsel in distress. If I’d rescued her that night, I’d have killed Bianchi before he had the chance to kill my father.

But the white knight thing isn’t my style. I don’t rescue people. I’m the one people beg to be rescued from.

My people had no trouble tracking her down. They’ve been watching her, expecting that Bianchi would get in touch. But she’s had no contact with him. In fact, based on her behavior—she changed her phone number, moved out of her shitty apartment and into an even shittier one, got a new job—I’d say she’s studiously trying to avoid contact. Hiding from him.

Still, she might know something.

I considered having her picked up, questioned. It turned out that fate had a better plan.

Fate delivered Markus Madsen—a guy who’s done a few jobs for the family—straight into my hands. He reached too high and bought into a game he shouldn’t have. My game.

Markus Madsen, brother of Alina Madsen, the woman who might be the key to finding my father’s killer.

The woman I fuck every night in my fantasies.

I’m the type to take advantage of the perfect opportunity, no matter who it hurts.

If I’d had my people pick Alina up, I’d have spooked Bianchi before he reached out to her. If I had my people question her, she might have given me the information I want. Or she might have protected Bianchi. Hard to know.

Now Alina’s focus is on Markus. She’ll be so worried about her brother, she won’t think to guard any information she might have about Bianchi. Alternatively, she’ll offer up everything she knows in order to buy her brother’s freedom. And the icing on the cake? Bianchi will hear that I have her and he’ll wonder exactly what secrets she’s spilling. That might make the rat slink out of his hidey hole.

---