Page 22 of A Pawn in the Game
With a shake of his head, he leaves the office, his apes in tow.
Leon runs his hands through his hair, the silver streaks in it suddenly more pronounced. My typically put-together brother looks like death. Dark circles adorn his eyes and the half-drunk bottle of rakia doesn’t look too good either.
My fingers wrap around the bottle, and I take a big swig before slumping down into the tall leather chair in front of his desk. Alcohol burns its way down my insides in a familiar, soothing rhythm.
“If we don’t handle Landers soon, Toma’s going to become a problem,” my brother says, staring at his black marble desk. This office is as opulent as the upstairs one, with expensive materials covering every inch, but the color scheme is pretty much all black.
“Become? Contrary to the lovely addition to the family he is now?”
Leon lets out a breath. “I’m not kidding. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we have a mutiny on our hands.”
“I’m the one on the streets every fucking day. So yeah, I noticed. And I sent the Russians a fucking message. There’s no need to kill loyal people to do that.”
“I know.” Another long breath escapes him. “And I agree with you. But the power-grabbing asshole who calls himself our uncle doesn’t. And while we’re out there, running damage control, he’s leading a political campaign, turning our men against us.”
I down another drink. “We need to get Landers as soon as possible.”
Leon lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Yeah, we do.”
“What’s up with that, anyway? Did he get our message?”
“There’s no way to know for sure. We have no idea of hislocation. We’ve put it online through channels he must have seen, but he still hasn’t reached out.”
I dip my chin, remembering every time I mentioned Sophie’s father to her. My bet would be that they’re not on the best terms. But a parent must try to save his daughter, right? Ours would have moved the Earth for us, burned the world to watch us rise from the ashes. And they took him away in a blink of an eye.
Moisture pools in the corners of my eyes, but I clear my throat, desperate to escape it.
“We’re going to find him,” Leon says with conviction.
“I know.” We have to. He has to pay for what he did.
The Russians may have pulled the trigger, but he’s the one who handed them a loaded gun. He’s the one we put our trust in, and he sold him out.
My fists clench around the bottle. “Have any more of these?” I ask, lifting it in the air.
“Sure. Ask Dom to open you a crate.”
“Thanks,” I say, rising from the chair and heading out. Leon’s personal guard stands in front of the office, his shoulders the width of the doorframe.
“Dom, my man. I need you to hook me up with some booze.”
He glances at me and, without a word, heads to the crates lining the wall. The long hallway is lined with miscellaneous goods on both sides. Using a crowbar, he opens a crate, and I find it full of bottles with see-through liquid. My eyes light up, the corners of my lips turning up.
“Take as many as you need,” Dom says, and my palms press together.
I fill my arms with as many bottles as I can carry and make my way to the car, dropping them all in the passenger’s seat.
There’s no news from Landers, and I have no drop-offs today, so I get back to the club, itching to get started on it. There’s no doubt we have bigger fish to fry at the moment, but it’s comforting to feel you’re doing something. I’d love to shut the place down and gut it, but it needs to stay open because of ourlittle dungeon guest. My men and I going in and out of a sex club makes sense, but any fool would question if we were to frequent a deserted place. It would be obvious we were hiding something here. Orsomeone.
Still, I want to tackle something. I enter the office, slipping my hands into my pockets. My eyes trail the room, my face scrunched. Leon’s office is dark and masculine. You sense he’s a leader from a mile away. This place is anything but. The only thing you can sense here are the bodily fluids that probably cover every inch of the room. I extract my phone from my back pocket, unlocking it and dial one of the top contacts.
“Da, šefe,” Ivan’s voice rings through. Yes, boss.
“I want to get started on the club.”
“Are you sure it’s the right time?”
“Are you saying we should hide out until it’s over?”
