CHAPTER 16
D’Angelo
I heardthe dripping sound before I even finished stepping through the door. It didn’t fit with the fine atmosphere of the private rooftop terrace.
Las Vegas had no shortage of five-star restaurants, just as it had no shortage of citizens and tourists to fill them. At this time of day, such an expensive restaurant would usually be packed with rich clientele, along with those trying to pretend they were rich for a night.
Instead, it sat empty except for a single diner. Sitting at a pristine white table spread, with a lavish multi-course meal spread before him, was Nathan Sterling. He was busy staring at something off to the side of the terrace, and just out of my sight, but he looked toward me with a smile as I approached.
“D’Angelo. I was surprised when I got your call.”
Despite the spread of food, there was no wait staff present. Instead, Nathan’s personal security handled everything. A mandressed as strictly as a secret service agent pulled out a chair at Nathan’s table, silently inviting me to sit.
“Renting out the entire restaurant to yourself. Isn’t that a bit much, even for you?”
Nathan spread his hands before him, indicative of Jesus’s pose from The Last Supper. However, there was nothing saintly about his expression, as he grinned wide enough to flash one particularly sharp canine.
“How else is a man supposed to work and eat at the same time?”
For the first time, I noticed what Nathan had been looking at earlier. Something large hung from the main rafters of the terrace, swaying slightly in the breeze that blew constantly at such a drastic height above the desert city. It was so wrapped up in ropes and torn cloth, I didn’t even realize what it was at first.
It was a body, hanging upside down by its feet and dripping blood onto the floor. At first, I thought it might already be dead, but then it twitched and a muffled moan could be heard through the gag covering most of its face.
Still alive then.
Probably male based on the size, but even that wasn’t a guarantee, and it was in such rough shape I couldn’t tell the gender just by looking.
“You having some problems?” I asked Nathan.
Gesturing dismissively with his knife, he returned to his meal. “No. Just a rat poking its nose in where it doesn’t belong. I didn’t have pest control written into my schedule, so I had to take care of it during dinner. I hate working while enjoying a meal, but there was no choice. Business has to get done.”
This was the reason Nathan was so feared by those who knew him. He was ruthless, but in a completely systematic way. Some people in positions like mine delighted in the violence and the brutality. Even I was guilty of this on occasion. Nathan, however, was as ruthless as they come, but completely emotionally untouched by it.
It made him highly efficient.
He would be one of the most renowned mafia leaders in the world, if anyone knew he existed. To most of the world, the name Nathan Sterling meant nothing. It wasn’t even his real name, just a more English sounding persona he’d taken on in order to blend in better with the western world. It was an ingenious ploy. He was the head of the Chechen mafia, yet he could go anywhere and do anything without the risk of being recognized.
Even international law enforcement, who specified in catching people like myself and Nathan, had no idea who he was. They all thought his sibling was the leader, when, in fact, that man was merely a figurehead. Nathan was the true leader, and he did it all behind a curtain of anonymity.
There were some days I wished I had that same luxury.
Glancing once again at the body hanging just a few feet away, and the bloody sunset painting the sky behind it, I addressed Nathan with a straightforward tone.
“You seem busy, so I won’t take up too much of your time. I have a favor to ask of you.”
Tapping the silver edge of his knife against his plate, Nathan regarded me with intense hazel eyes. They were a similar color to Oliver’s eyes, yet they looked nothing alike. Nathan may not be known by name, but there were plenty of rumors surroundinghim. He was referred to merely as The Wolf. It was originally a reference to Chechen’s national animal and the symbol on their insignia, but the moniker fit.
As I met those hazel eyes, I felt like I was staring down a predator.
After a moment, he put down his utensils and leaned back in his chair, taking a slow sip from the wine in his glass. “It must be important if you’ve come to me directly instead of just asking over the phone.”
I’d dealt with Nathan a few times before, so I recognized his ploy. He never stated anything as a question. To him, questions were a sign of weakness. Instead, he always posed everything as a statement, hiding how much he did or didn’t know, and letting the other person assume their own questions.
I knew better than to walk into that trap.
“I always show respect where it’s due, and a face-to-face conversation is much more respectful. Besides, it’s the city of sin.” I waved at hand at the cityscape that stretched over the horizon behind us, glowing with a mix of gold and neon as the rapidly setting sun gave way to night. “Of course I’m going to come here if I have an excuse. I wish more of my business resided in the west.”
Setting his drink down, Nathan’s expression turned serious, and he steepled his fingers to regard me over them. “Your favor.”