Page 97 of Devious Secrets

Stevan Carmine’s condo is nestled in the middle the Gold Coast overlooking Washington Square Park. As soon as we enter the building, I sense the DeAngelo family presence.

They own a bunch of properties in this neighborhood. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were family members behind one of these doors.

“What’s the plan, Alexander?” Ivan asks as we approach Stevan’s door.

“I told you. We’re going to find Megan.” As we walk down the hall, I pull my Glock out from behind my jacket and aim it at the door. One quick shot and it’s open, making it easier for me when I get to kick the fucker in.

“Now is one hell of a time for him to go off half-cocked,” Kaz mutters behind me, drawing his gun to be ready for whatever comes next.

“I’m fully cocked.”

A woman dressed in a house uniform crosses into the foyer, sees me, and screams.

“Stevan Carmine. Where is he?” I demand.

“Bedroom,” she mutters, unable to take her eyes off the weapon I have trained on her. “Up the stairs and to the left, first… first door.”

“Sorry about him,” Kaz says as we pass her and head to the stairs. “We’ll be just a minute.”

Lev stays downstairs with the maid as I take the stairs two at a time.

Moans waft from behind the bedroom door as we approach it. Pleasure filled, erotic groans mingle with the slapping sounds of flesh against flesh.

I don’t bother with the knob; I kick this fucking door down too.

A woman shrieks. Stevan is behind her, thrusting into her while she’s on all fours. She scrambles away from him, and he falls forward, barely catching himself before landing on his face.

“What the fuck?” He turns to see us, his cheeks pale. “Who the fuck are you?”

The woman presses herself against the headboard, pulling on the sheets to cover herself.

“Go.” I nod toward the door, and she leaps from the bed, taking a sheet with her as she runs from the room. Lev will catch her downstairs and keep her contained until we’re done here.

Stevan isn’t disturbed by having the three of us in the room pointing our weapons at his face. He casually climbs off the bed, grabs the silk robe at the end, and shoves his body into it.

“What do you want?” He ties the robe closed at his waist.

“My wife. Where is she?”

“Who is your wife?” he asks, sounding almost bored.

“Megan Reed,” Ivan answers.

“Volkov. Megan Volkov,” I ground out.

He pauses a moment. “Alexander Volkov. Yes?” He gestures to me as he walks to the nightstand, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and pulling one out.

“Where is she?”

He lights the cigarette and blows a cloud of smoke up at the ceiling.

“I have no fucking idea.”

“She used to work for you.”

“A lot of people work for me. Why would I have her?” He takes another drag, letting the cigarette dangle from his mouth as he walks to the other side of the room.

“I don’t think you’re understanding the trouble here.” I squeeze the trigger, and his cigarette disappears from his mouth.

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