Page 33 of Once A Crime Lord

“Anything else I should know?” Marcus asked.

He glanced at the laptop and saw computer codes flashing across the screen. “The amenities for the homeowners are generous and well worth the fees. And Falkner designed the floor plans, so I know it’s the best use of style while still maintaining our signature and keeping it classy. Good job.”

“Wow. You really do read my emails.”

“They do the trick when I need a nap. In the future, don’t write that formal shit. Get to the point. I don’t have time to rifle through fifty emails a day.”

Marcus nodded. “Got it.”

His phone rang, and he picked up. “Yeah?”

“There’s a lot of security on this laptop. I’m going to need more time,” Z said.

“Have you found anything interesting?”

“Am I looking for something in particular?”

“No.”

There was a pause on the other end. He could feel Marcus watching him, probably trying to figure out what the hell was going on. The sane, civilized part of him knew that he had a dozen other things to do besides rifling through Huskin’s shit, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to know everything there was to know about this guy.

“It looks like the laptop owner likes to write programs,” Z reported.

He frowned. “What type?”

“I’m not sure yet, sir.”

“How much time do you need?”

“I don’t know.”

He hung up and called one of his men. “Where is he?”

“At the Bellagio fountains.”

“I’m on my way. Let me know if he makes a move.” He headed to the door and over his shoulder said, “When the files are uploaded to that drive, hand it to the guards outside.”

“Where are you going?” Marcus called.

“Hunting.”

He strode to the elevators and made his way through his casino. He inhaled clouds of cigarette smoke, cheap perfume, and alcohol. A drunk stumbled into his path. Knowing that the man was making him richer allowed him to shove the man out of his way instead of killing him. His skin felt too tight for his body. The beast inside him demanded blood. It took every ounce of control he possessed to walk calmly through the crowd, a demon amongst lambs.

The lights and noise along The Strip were as familiar to him as his own home. He made his way to the Bellagio fountains where tourists congregated to watch a water show. He spotted one of his men who turned his head to the left. Gavin followed his line of sight to a lone figure leaning against the stone wall, watching the show.

He made his way to a spot adjacent to Huskin so he could examine the man who seduced Lyla into believing he was a good guy. Huskin looked like a nerd who played video games in his spare time. He was ordinary in every way from his brown hair and eyes to his facial features and build. He wasn’t tall or short, fat or skinny. He was just... average. Huskin didn’t seem aware of the crowd or the change in songs. He stared blindly at the water. The possibility that Huskin was remembering his time with Lyla made his hand edge toward his weapon. Only the fact he could still taste her kept him from losing his shit.

The show ended, and the crowd began to disperse. A man tapped Huskin on the shoulder. Clearly, the man didn’t speak English, but anyone could tell from his exaggerated hand motions, that he was asking Huskin to take photos of his family. Huskin obliged, patiently capturing memories as the family switched positions multiple times. When the German thanked him profusely, Huskin smiled and waved as they walked away. Huskin appeared to be a nice guy, but everyone had a dark side.

He followed Huskin through the crowd. Huskin didn’t look around at the distractions Las Vegas had to offer. He was too deep in thought. Gavin stalked him for a block before he spied an alley. He grabbed his switchblade and sped up to get closer to Huskin. Lyla reassured him that he had nothing to worry about, but he wouldn’t take chances when it came to her. He would keep fucking up. It was inevitable. If she decided to leave him, he wouldn’t allow her to have someone to run to. Fuck that.

Three men on the sidewalk created a rhythmic racket on tin buckets that was drawing a crowd. Huskin slowed, allowing Gavin to close the distance between them. He extended his hand to propel Huskin into the alley and paused when he saw it was already occupied. Two Mexicans stood in the entrance and they were both staring boldly at him. His instincts pinged a moment before one of them reached into his jacket. Fuck. He didn’t hesitate. He threw the switchblade and saw the man’s head kick back. His partner’s eyes bulged, and he too reached into his jacket, but it was too late. Gavin barreled into him, shoving him out of the neon lights and into darkness. The man shot wildly, narrowly missing Gavin’s leg, which pissed him off.

The street performers banged away, drowning out the gunshot. Gavin slammed the gangster’s head into the wall with all his strength. The man crumpled to the ground several feet from his partner who had Gavin’s switchblade sticking out of his face. He peered down at the bodies and noted the tattoos on their neck.

The underworld was calling.

He texted his men about the bodies and strolled out of the alley. He paused a moment to scan the crowd for Huskin, but he was gone. Fuck. An SUV pulled up to the curb. Gavin climbed in and glanced at his man.

---