Page 33 of Deadly Legacy
Stepan gestured to a small metal table where three tiny devices lay, each no larger than a cufflink.
“First one was behind the painting in the high-stakes room.” Stepan pointed to each device in turn. “Second in the vent above the VIP bar. Third under the poker table where the whales sit.”
Nikon picked up one of the devices, rolling it between his fingers. The metal felt cool against his skin. “Range?”
“Estimated twenty meters. Audio only, no video.” Stepan tapped a sequence on one of the nearby keyboards. Security footage appeared on the main screen. “These two placed them about forty minutes ago.”
The screen showed two men in expensive suits moving through the casino with the confident air of regulars. Nothing about them would have triggered suspicion to an untrained eye. But Nikon caught the subtle signs; the too-perfect posture, the calculated casualness, and the way they scanned the room while pretending not to.
“Dmitrii’s people.” Nikon confirmed as his index finger traced their path on the screen.
Nikon’s fingers tightened around the bug until the metal edges bit into his skin. The thought of what he would have done to these men in the past flashed through his mind.
Nikon had a favorite abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, where questions could be asked politely before escalating into the kind of brutal demands that left permanent marks.
The methods he’d used—methods that made strong men break and earned him both fear and respect—were likely ones Reuben would never approve of, would never want to imagine him capable of.
Nikon set the device down and inhaled slowly, feeling the air fill his lungs as he considered his next move.
“They’re still here?” Nikon’s voice remained level, but his pulse quickened.
Stepan nodded, pulling up live footage. The men had moved to the main bar area during peak hours, perched on stools near the center. Their untouched drinks sat before them while their eyes methodically cataloged every detail of the casino floor.
“I’ll handle this myself.” Nikon straightened his already perfect tie, smoothing the silk with the same controlled attention he gave every important task.
Stepan’s eyebrows rose a touch. “You want us to grab them?”
“No.” Nikon’s eyes narrowed as something inside his mind shifted. A subtle adjustment of strategy. “I’ll approach themdirectly. Have teams ready, but keep your distance unless I signal.”
Nikon moved through his casino with purpose. He navigated around gamblers, servers, and security personnel, acknowledging each with appropriate attention. The constant sounds of shuffled cards, raucous conversation, and clinking of casino chips created a rhythmic backdrop as he descended to the main floor.
This was his territory. His domain.
His presence seemed to alter the atmosphere. Staff stood straighter. Dealers missed beats in their shuffles. Players glanced up from their games—curious or wary, depending on their relationship with the Matvei family. Nikon acknowledged a few regulars with a slight nod. But his eyes never lost sight of his targets at the bar.
The two men sat on adjacent stools, tumblers of amber liquid before them. Their conversation halted as Nikon approached. The taller one, with a jagged scar across his right eyebrow, shifted his weight. His hand moved closer to his jacket. Nikon noted the movement.
“Gentlemen.” Nikon slid onto the stool beside them. He placed both hands on the bar, fingers spread, showing he held no weapon. “I see you’re making yourselves comfortable.”
The second man, who had a nose that appeared bent unnaturally from a poorly-set break, forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Mr. Matvei. Didn’t expect to see you down here.”
“No?” Nikon raised two fingers. The bartender immediately placed a glass of vodka before him without a word. “I find surprises inconvenient. They disrupt operations.”
His words carried a clear threat. Broken-Nose’s fingers drummed once against the bar counter before stilling. He swallowed hard enough for his Adam’s apple to bob hard.
“Just having a drink,” Eyebrow-Scar said, voice carefully neutral. He gestured loosely at the crowded casino floor. “Nice place you got.”
“Indeed.” Nikon lifted his glass, taking a small sip. The vodka burned cold down his throat. Yet his eyes never left Eyebrow-Scar’s face. “It’s so nice, in fact, that guests sometimes forget themselves. Leave things behind. Small things. Electronic things.”
Eyebrow-Scar’s shoulder tensed. A slight tightening most would miss. His gaze shifted to the exits where Stepan’s men stood, hands clasped in front, feet shoulder-width apart.
Nikon rose to his feet and then placed a hand on his shoulder. The gesture appeared friendly to any observers across the casino floor. But his fingers found the nerve cluster beneath the collarbone. And pressed down. The expensive fabric of the man’s suit couldn’t disguise the twitching muscle beneath.
“You have two options,” Nikon said, voice low enough that only the three of them could hear it over the ambient casino noise. He leaned closer, as if sharing a friendly joke. “Walk out now, tell your boss his toys are compromised, and stay thefuckout of my place. Or stay, and we continue this conversation somewhere more private.”
Eyebrow-Scar winced under the pressure. Beads of sweat formed along his hairline.
“If we pick the first option?” he asked, voice strained.
