Page 73 of Dev

“He managed to climb out the girl’s window, but it’s only a matter of time before her body’s found. There were witnesses who saw him go up the stairs. It’s gonna be easy to pin this on him.” I look down at the picture Dev sent me after he called. The girl is young, even younger than Peyton, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Long Beach’s mystery murderer is behind all this.

“I need to find out who’s doing this; it’s getting outta hand,” I admit. Finding out who this sick fucker is is proving to be way beyond the club’s resources.

“We’re gonna have to arrange a meeting with their leader, explain that there’s been a mistake. You must know how to contact this Prizrak guy they all suck up to?” I look back up at him, knowing he ain’t gonna like my plan, but I see no other option. “We can strike a deal with him, use the weapons we took from the Irish as leverage.”

“The weapons that were probably already his?” Burlusconi looks at me as if I've lost my mind. “Raze, are you forgetting that no one knows who the Prizrak is; no one's ever seen him, not even me. He doesn't do meetings.”

“Well, maybe a dead whore with our name etched into her stomach might change his mind. I’m all about standing up for my actions, but we didn’t do this. Someone out there is trying to screw me and my club over, and now you’re being dragged into it too. We need the Russians to know we’re innocent of this. We started the war with the Irish when we killed all of Quinnell’s men; we don’t need to extend it to them.”

“You didn’t start the war.” Burlusconi sits down and looks tired all of a sudden.

“What are you talkin’ about?” I pierce him with my eyes, sensing that there’s something more to this.

“I caused the war. A few years ago, it was arranged by my parents that I would marry Brian’s daughter. Our families were going to unite and rule the West Coast. But Eva came back into my life, I wasn’t expecting her to. I wasn’t prepared for it, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her go again.” He closes his eyes and scrubs his face. “I spoke to the girl. Briella Quinnell didn’t want to marry me; she wanted to see the world and be free. So we made an agreement that would buy her more time, I took over from my father, and I renegotiated with Quinnell. Promisedthat my brother would marry his daughter to uphold our side of the deal.” He leans forward to take the whiskey I pour him. I’ve had many meetings with Burlusconi since I took over as president, and I’ve seen him open up the way he is now.

“Prizrak called me on my wedding day, he spoke to me for the first time and the last and told me we didn’t need to be enemies. It was obvious he had an interest in the Quinnell girl.” He knocks back his drink.

“Briella?”

“He said now that I wasn’t in possession of what he wanted, we could be allies; informed me that he would be passing stock through my city from time to time. That was over three years ago, and I haven’t heard from him since.”

“But….” I wait for him to continue because I can sense there's more to his story.

“Quinnell was keen to have our families unite. A date was set for Rhett to marry Briella. It was supposed to be six months ago, but it didn’t happen.” Burlusconi shrugs his shoulders and helps himself to another drink.

“Why not?” I’m pissed the fuck off that he’s been keeping all this from me. Burlusconi may call the shots in this city, but my men put their lives on the line for him. When we got into it with the Irish, he should have made us aware.

“The girl vanished. Gone without a trace on the morning of her wedding. Rhett was, of course, relieved. He never wanted to be tied down to a wife, and although I know Briella would have planned all this, I think her father believes that it was our doing. He’s convinced himself that we didn’t want the alliance.”

“And did you?” I ask, hoping he’ll give me an honest answer.

“Quinnell needed us more than we needed him,” he admits. “If we want to keep the Russians on our side, we need to find that girl and offer her to Prizrak. He wants her more than he wants power.”

“You want me to send Brian Quinnell's daughter like a lamb to the slaughter?” I check I’m hearing him right.

“We’re already at war with Quinnell. And we have to protect the people we love. We’ve all had to make sacrifices, Raze.” Burlusconi stands up from the table, leaving me with something to think about.

“Daddy, what's happening?” I ask him, trying not to sound scared, as the man who’s holding me slams me into the chair opposite my father's desk.

He has to wait for the gag to be removed from his mouth before he can answer.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got this under control.” The panic in his eyes and voice tells a different story.

“Do you believe that?” The man leans over me, giving me a good look at his face, and I try to recall it. He’s an older man, with a podgy face, rosy cheeks, and swept-back grey hair. “I think yer da here, be tellin’ ye what ye want to hear.” He chuckles, softly stroking my cheek with his finger, before he turns his attention back to my dad.

“Now, can ye see how serious I am, Frank? ’Tis a terrible thing to lose a daughter. A pain that can’t be described.”

“No…don’t hurt her. She has nothing to do with this.” Dad shakes his head and tries to break free from the ropes.

“Exactly. What caused all this trouble in the first place? Ye should have taken heed of me warnin’, Frankie.”

“What is this?” I cry out. I’ve already figured from their accents that these are the men who were behind Corey’s death,but I can’t work out what the hell they’re doing here. Has my association with the club put my father in danger?

“Just stay calm, pumpkin. I can fix this.”

“There he goes, lyin’ to ye again.” The man laughs. “Daddycan’t fix this, little girl. Yer da’s in trouble, and now so are you.” He grabs my hair and drags me forward so my cheek is pressing against the surface of the desk, and when I feel something hard press against my temple, my father’s eyes become swallowed up with fear.

“I’m going to take yer ‘something precious’, Frankie Boy. I’m going to keep her, and let every one of my men sample her. The quicker ye find a way to give memydaughter back, the less damaged yours will be.” He laughs so coldly as the horror on my dad's face masks his fear.

---