Page 46 of Hunt Me
Let alone daring to betray my father or my uncle, two of the most powerful men to enter Las Vegas at a time when cash was needed.
I’d pretended the blood and gore could easily be washed away, but blood stained, the stench lingering even after years of rot and decay.
Eventually the mask had no longer been necessary. I’d become what I’d only pretended to be.
However, those days were mostly behind us.
Or they should be. Yet with the Irish breathing down our necks, it was possible the old methods of doing business would need to be brought to the forefront.
Through hard work and perseverance, my family had revitalized the downtown, creating a kingdom within several years. They’d learned from the mistakes of their fathers while accepting the United States as their new home.
But that didn’t mean the bones of the resorts weren’t built on the blood of sacrificial lambs or without blackmail and extortion. The two powerful men had carefully built a reputation as being legitimate while the bread and butter of the corporation had been funded by the illegal sale of drugs and weapons.
It hadn’t been without strife, including dealing with members of law enforcement. Until my father and uncle had taken a stronghold over the various departments. It hadn’t hurt that regular donations had been made to their respective organizations and still were. Even as they’d started to look the other way, required acts of violence had decreased.
In Russia, we’d lived behind iron gates, a necessity given the violence experienced on the streets of Moscow every day. I’d been a young boy who’d been forced to grow up quickly. Neither my brothers nor my sisters had been forced to endure such atrocities.
For that I was grateful.
I’d left Moscow an angry kid, turning into an enraged young man. My siblings were different, never forced to endure the kind of terror that had lingered in my dreams. Hell, they were more American than Russian by this point.
After I’d turned seventeen, I’d become my father’s enforcer. I’d learned there was no room for regret or remorse within our world. My moral compass had been smashed at an early age.
Yet now, as I walked through the halls of the empire I’d taken to an entirely new level, I realized almost everyone wore a mask. Whether for an event or for a job, a marriage that was no longer working or even when dealing with family members, there wasn’t a person alive who hadn’t taken solace in pretending to be someone or something they weren’t.
That was especially true in the city. The old saying that what happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas had been taken to heart. Tourists were often reckless, performing acts or deeds that they’d never consider while living their perfectly normal if not boring lives.
From gambling to prostitution, infidelity to kink clubs, if you were willing to wear a mask, you could satisfy any proclivity.
Nightmares.
I’d had them my entire life, often awakening me in a cold sweat. While I almost never remembered any details, I knew in my gut they were bloody as fuck. If I had to guess, I’d say some psychiatrist would have a field day, telling me that my guilt was the reason.
Bullshit.
I knew better.
There’d been no sleep before, the dream coming in vivid images of the night I’d lost my conscience. Had it popped up because I felt remorse? Not a chance in hell. However, any time the Irish were mentioned, I had brutal reactions. This time, I knew the answer. The realization that drugs were flowing through the city I loved with all my heart.
People were dying, just like they had over twenty years before.
What few knew was that I’d suffered a personal loss, the tragedy fueling the bitter anger.
Even now, as I tried to shove aside the memories, they lingered in the forefront of my mind. I needed a release, or the rage would turn into something more explosive.
Exhaling, I tried to concentrate on my job and the upcoming meeting. The nightmares would need to be put on hold.
Tonight was buzzing. With the start of the residency of Lainey Rose, the pop singer considered a worldwide phenomenon, the resort was booked for months. Getting her signature on a signed contract had taken months, considered a coup since there wasn’t a single resort anywhere who hadn’t courted her like she was the queen.
I couldn’t care less about pop music, yet was impressed that my cousin Sasha had somehow managed to convince her we were the right fit.
At least the asshole from two nights before had yet to resurface. Or I should say he’d remained quiet when dumped into a special taxi we used when trouble brewed, the driver on our payroll. If he was on O’Shaughnessy’s payroll, the warning had been received. That would require extra caution in the upcoming days.
With business booming, I was more diligent in both security and operations. This was a prime opportunity for high-rolling cheaters and for our enemies to try to make a move.
I’d learned to watch out for every snake unearthed.
I headed onto the main floor of the smaller casino, the location preferred by our more elite guests.
