Page 69 of Vegas Daddies

“No, sweetheart,” Lifesaver says. “Don’t be silly.”

“Then what?”

I rev the engine and we all take a right at the intersection.

“Guys?”

“Just leave it, princess. The important thing is that we’re all back together.”

She stops talking after that, and it’s probably because she’s figured us out. Silence stretches between us. Wind whistles and the bike engine growls, rising in pitch as I shift up a gear. We speed through the city, keeping right until a left turn out of the city directs us into the desert.

I always crave the open road after a kill.

Correction:kills.

We exit Interstate 15 and turn straight onto a single-lane road that continues for miles in front of us. A crescent moon shines faintly in the sky, and stars are peppered above us, glittering brightly. Wind builds as we pick up more speed, and the two Venom Vultures jackets tied around Alice’s body flap in the wind. Rotting human blood isn’t a pleasant smell, but like anything in life, the more times you do something, the easier it gets.

She might hate us.

But some of those bastards needed scolding.

Russian syndicate members think they own the world.

Because a lot of the time theydo, in fact, own it.

I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Heard it with my own ears. Innocents of the world approach them because they believe it’s their only way to advance in the world. Sheltered parents coddle their kids right from kindergarten age.“Believe in yourself, son. You can do anything if you put your mind to it.”It’s bullshit. A waste of breath. Youcan’talwaysput your mind to it. Some people justaren’tgood enough. You work overtime, twenty-four seven, and achieve nothing.

Cal was a guy I shared my sleeping bag with on the street for two weeks. He was trying to get into Harvard Law, had been for five years, but each application came back denied. He believed he was perfectly capable because his cuckoo parents reassured him with the classic “Keep trying, you’ll get there one day”bullshit. He believed he deserved a place. Believed there was a seat in the lecture theater with his name on it. He was waiting for his movie moment, so each year when that didn’t occur, when more capable students sat in the seats instead of him, he turned tothe Bratva. He was an only child, and his parents apparently were avid believers in the phrase“Work hard and your dreams will come true,”so it’s no shock that the guy developed a god complex and thought he was entitled.

The Russians said they could get him into Harvard Law, and they did. I’m not sure how many thousands were handed over—Cal, I don’t think, was sure either—but it was enough to land him homeless because he couldn’t keep up with the debt.

So yes, the Bratva do rule the world, and theydodeserve slashing with a hot iron rod for existing, because it’s always the innocents that land themselves in the biggest piles of shit for being gullible and entitled.

Peter is from Summerlin, a sheltered corner of the world where residents scream if they receive so much as a paper cut. It’s not a shocker that he turned to the Bratva to achieve his dream of being mayor.

Much like Cal, he probably saw himself worthy. And even though the guy lost his wife, he should be lucky a roof still exists over his head.

That his daughter is still alive.

And that he has us to take care of her.

I just hope Alice can understand our actions, because chances are, she’ll stop listening after hearing the word “murder,” before we can even get to the “greater good” part.

Peace eases the tension in my shoulders when I catch a glimpse of my house up ahead. Three sets of Harley-Davidson headlights illuminate the orange brick exterior.

I cut off the engine, and Alice hops down. She unties the jackets from around her. Hands them back to me.

Then she screams.

I jump out of my skin. My soul leaves my fucking body.

“What’s wrong?”

Lifesaver and Match rush over.

“Blood,” she says.

There’s a smearing of it across her thigh.

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